So they sat and they talked and they held hands while they talked.
“Why’d you get married?” Beverly asked.
“I wasn’t exactly Mr. Popular,” Bill said.
He told the story of Pam, his one live-with girlfriend, and then the barren years with only two encounters, very far apart. He told about how he abandoned Pam because it was getting too serious, or maybe because he was getting restless, or maybe because he was getting afraid. Maybe he was afraid she’d leave him or not like him after awhile.
He told the story of the cold, snowy winter night some of the guys he knew wanted to go to a party, about his having a car and them asking him if he’d drive. Deciding to go, to drive, something that had not been in his plans, had not even been what he wanted, was one of those existential decisions, one of those moments he had to reason to a what-the-hell decision, one of those things out there that didn’t matter in any way in the course of his life. He’d go. He’d have a few beers, smoke a joint… He’d drive them home and come home.
He sat in the corner most of the night. He was wearing his father’s WWII army coat, one of those long khaki-green wool overcoats, this one double-breasted with all brass buttons and his father’s final PFC stripe. Big highlight was the Big Red 1, his father’s infantry unit.
He had taken the coat off and had it on his lap. He was careful not to drop ash on it when they passed around the joints, and he didn’t drink but one beer, this because he was driving.
She asked him if he wanted to dance, this girl that would eventually become his wife. She was a dancer, a dance major at the University, in the University Dance Company. He said he didn’t dance, which was true because he had no rhythm and he was a terrible dancer, not to mention the fact that he was shy and very inhibited.
She said okay and sat down by him, took her turn in the joint rotation and passed it to him, took a sip of his beer without asking if it was okay.
Then she went off to dance.
He sat awhile, never moved from the spot he was in. He watched what was going on, watched the dancers dance, would find out that this was a dance party being held by one of the UDC members, so of course there were a lot of dancers there. There were lots of drama majors too, aspiring actors. He didn’t know, but he was willing to bet he was the only poet, the only writer there.
He told Beverly how at getting-time-to-go time his friends came over with her and one other girl and asked if they could drive the girls home. Bill didn’t want to but he didn’t want to be a spoil sport, so against his desires he said yes. She made sure to sit next to him in the front seat, sandwiched in like he’d been sandwiched by Rosie and Edelgarde just the other night.
Instead of going home, they went to Denny’s because they wanted to get something to eat, his friends did. Bill didn’t want to. The snow was getting worse and he didn’t want to be out in it. But he was a team player and went along with them. One of the boys wanted to pick up that other girl.
He had a whopping two dollars and fifteen cents in his pocket. Out of nowhere, and just because, he told her he was having coffee and she could have anything she wanted up to a dollar ninety-five.
And that’s how they met, really met.
After the coffee she helped him on with his coat, said no one had ever offered her all they had before and asked him if she could come over to his place for little while. She had a roommate and the roommate had a boyfriend and he would probably still be there so if she could hang out a bit that would be great.
They made out and petted, but she didn’t stay. Four days later she showed up on his door step and said she was moving in.
