The What Ifs

A note:

Parts of this story take place in a real town, but every single one of the characters is fictional, just so you know. The places come from my memories, the people, solely from my imagination. Here goes –

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I lounged on my patio for most of this lovely summer morning. I drank coffee, listened to the crows’ conversation, and reminisced about my Maine hometown. I mostly remembered making out with my high school boyfriend, Klinger, on the bandstand in Hathorn Park. I say my high school boyfriend, but really, we only dated for three months my junior year. There are so many makeout spots in that town, and over those three months, we tried them all. Fond memories. Quite fond, indeed. It’s almost thirty years later. I still can’t decide whether or not to go to my reunion next summer.

I need to get a move on; stop daydreaming. It’s 11 o’clock. I say that to myself, then I think about Klinger some more. I wonder what became of him. I want to Google, but that’s kind of stalking, and I won’t go there. Then, I think about The Pondo. My kitty, Ralph, hears me laugh out loud, and gives me a curious, rather judgmental look. Its real name was the Ponderosa Room, the bar at the little Landmark Motor Inn. I was underage, and never tried to get in, but a lot of my friends tried, and some of them did get in. If you could get in, that was really a big thing. Something to brag about. Hey, I got into the Pondo Saturday night! I got so drunk. But I was always on the outside of things, an observer. I’m still like that. I’d rather be safe. I suppose that’s boring, but that’s the way I am.

This time I stop daydreaming for real, and come back to the present. I need to think about what to wear on my date tonight with Bentley Jones. I had my eye on Bentley for over six months, and he finally noticed me and asked me out. This will be our third date. Two of my girlfriends are jealous. I haven’t told them yet that Ben isn’t that great a guy. That in fact, I don’t like him. Tonight, I plan to tell him I don’t want to see him again. I hope I can get a word in before he starts pushing for a sleepover, either here or at his place. Last thing I want. But Adele and Claire say, you’re so lucky!  And I want to say, well, he’s kind of a snob. He doesn’t like the way I dress. He says I’m too casual. Have I thought about upgrading my car? He cringed when I ate chips with my burger on our first date. He was dying to scold me, I could tell. And there are other things. Most of all, he doesn’t like cats. That’s a deal breaker for me. I want to tell them that I idealized him too much. I only knew him as a sexy (appearance wise) man in my writer’s group. Sometimes, the idea of something is better than the real thing. You know how that is, right? But they won’t get it. They’ll say I’m too picky about men. And I am picky, but I deserve to be.

In the end, it doesn’t matter what Adele, or Claire, or anyone else thinks. Ben’s all looks, and little substance that’s not about money or designer suits. I’ll end things anyway, because I want to. But what to wear to do it?

I want to egg him on a little. Make him comment on my clothes or my hair. Or scold me for what I order for dinner. It’s only our third date, but he wants to be with me. How obnoxious will he dare to be? We’re going to meet at The Embers. I didn’t want him to pick me up. And I said I want us to pay separately. He gave me an odd look, but he agreed. When he suggested The Embers, I was again reminded of my hometown, Pittsfield, Maine. There was a little family restaurant named that there. When I was a kid, my favorite thing to have was a cheeseburger and fries. Isn’t that every kid’s favorite? Or a western omelette. But the Embers here is very trendy and expensive. A little, (or a lot?) annoying. Figures. Just like him. Why did I agree to go? Why didn’t I just say no thank you? Anyone’s guess is as good as mine.

I choose the teensiest black dress I have. I’ve never worn it, precisely because it’s so teensy. I mean, I didn’t bare this much skin when I was twenty. I’m forty seven now. I blame Adele. She encouraged me to buy it. She said I looked great in it when I tried it on. That I have a sensational figure for my age. Ahem, not a great thing to say. For my age, Dele? I said. You know what I mean, Heather, she said. So I bought it on a lark, but it’s perfect for tonight. He can’t say it’s too casual, right? I can’t exactly be casual in this black velvet handkerchief.

In fact, it’s only noon, but I should wear it for awhile, just to practice sitting down and getting up in it. Where are my black stilettos? What if I fdwwt? Fall down while wearing this? That would embarrass Bentley, but it would also embarrass me. I’ll just put the dress on for an hour or so. I’ve had plenty of practice wearing heels.

I put on the dress, but stay barefoot. I sit on the couch and try to get comfy enough to read my book. I’m halfway through The Golden Bowl, by Henry James. It’s a difficult read, but worth it. Ralph wants to take a nap on my lap. I say, no furry sweetheart.. the dress. He falls asleep on the other side of the couch on the red suede pillow. I read three pages, then I feel sleepy. I think about how I really don’t want to go on this ridiculous date with Bentley. I’ll just text him and cancel, and that will be that. Get out of this ridiculous dress, put on jeans and a tee shirt and relax. I send the text, and go to get up to change, but I can’t. I’m too sleepy. I lie down so Ralph sleeps at my feet, and pull on the quilt my Mom gave me last year. Perfect. With my eyes half closed, I focus on my dining room table and its centerpiece, a copper vase filled with yellow irises to celebrate springtime. Irises and snapdragons are my favorites; both are spring blooms.

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I must be half awake still. I hear a familiar voice say,

You’re going to love this, sweetie. I’m making your favorite chicken stew for supper. You keep napping, and I’ll read some of my book. Wake you up when it’s ready, okay?  I feel the voice kiss me gently on my forehead. I’m so drowsy.

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I see Klinger and I at a table at The Embers. The Embers from my childhood. Then, I’m at the table sitting across from him. Our waitress, my mother’s friend, Rebecca, brings us two more Cokes to go with our French dip sandwiches and fries. Klinger says, I get that we’re only sixteen, Heather, but I already know I want us to get married. I shouldn’t have told the guys. They’re all laughing at me. But I think they’re just jealous. I nod and say that I love him too, but my parents don’t believe me either. I tell him they’re always saying things like, oh Heather, there will be so many other boys and then men in your life. I roll my eyes. Klinger laughs that laugh I love so much.

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Then, I think it’s six years later, I see us at another table together. This is an old Danish Modern table in a one bedroom, cheap furnished apartment. I see us, then see him across from me again. He has just asked me to marry him, and I’ve said yes. It’s lowkey for us, because we always knew it would happen, but no one else got it. He puts a one carat pink diamond ring on my finger. The two of us are calm, smiling, but our poodle, Constance runs wild, excited circles around the table. We tell her to sit, stay quiet so our upstairs neighbors don’t complain.

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Another twelve years later, we’re walking, Klinger and I, on a woodland trail, and we discuss divorce. He tells me he’s fallen for my friend, Claire. He says he doesn’t know how or why, it just happened. I agree to an amicable divorce. We’ve had no children, though we tried for a long time. I am heartbroken. I’ll keep the house. He’ll move in with Claire and her twelve year old daughter, Chloe. I’ll keep our cats, Winston and James, with me.

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I feel a kiss on my right cheek, and another lightly on my lips. My face is wet with tears. I sit up, startled and profoundly sad. Where am I? What’s going on?

My eyes are open, but my vision is blurry because I’ve been sobbing in my sleep. Heather, sweetheart, what happened? asks my husband.

It takes me a minute to get my bearings, and Klinger wraps his arms tightly around me. I love you, Heather. You had a bad dream. Everything is good.

I suck in some deep breaths. And I say, I had more than one bad dream, I had a couple. In one, we were planning a divorce. In another I was dating Bentley, and he was a jerk, and I wanted to break it off. I must have been dating him because we went through with that divorce.

Klinger says, Bentley? Bentley Jones from MCI, class before ours? That jerk? Nightmare. No. We’re married, Heather, remember? You’re Heather Haley Harvey. Mrs. Klinger Hobson Harvey. Mrs. Klinger Hayden Hobson Harvey the Third. You’re the Love of My Life, all in caps. You’re…

I laugh. Okay, okay. I get it.

He laughs too. You’ve been Mrs. Harvey for twenty eight years, going on twenty nine. I’ve been in love with you since I was fifteen and a half years old.

I say, all right, all right. I can’t stop laughing. And you know what else, Klinger? In one dream, Claire and Adele were my best friends. Can you imagine?

No, I can’t, he says. And didn’t I tell you, sweetheart? I heard last week that Adele married Bentley. She’s Mrs. Bentley Jones. The two of them have moved to Des Moines. I say, good riddance.

Adele and Bentley? I laugh harder. My stomach starts to hurt.

Yes. And i heard she married him in the tiniest black velvet dress you’ve ever seen!

I peek under my quilt and see I’m wearing faded jeans and a favorite blue tee shirt. What a relief. No teensy black dress for me. I’ll tell Klinger more about my dreams over supper.

On the way to the kitchen, I say to Klinger, remember when Adele and Claire were my rivals for your affections?

And he answers, they never had a chance. You’re the only one I ever wanted. Now let’s eat.

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END