CHANGE OF LIFE - Chapter 6

    When Willard got home after his shift, he found some cheese slices in the refrigerator. He toasted some bread and put cheese between the slices. With that and a cup of instant coffee he had his supper.

After supper, he got out a notebook. He was going to make a list of those things Dolores always did that were now his duties. Tomorrow he would go to the store and buy food for the coming week. He would begin by making a list of foods that he knew how to make. When he could figure out how to use the microwave, he could get some prepared meals and foods.

Another thing that he would have to do is look at the bills and the checkbook to see how much he could spend. Tomorrow, he would pick up the dry cleaning and laundry.

He didn’t know if he would even try calling the credit card company or the bus company. If Dolores was leaving him, what difference did it make to know what city she was in? She was gone out of his life. He missed her, but he didn’t see anything to be gained by running after her.

He looked through the newspaper, turned on the television. Later he wearily trudged upstairs. The bed was still all tousled and torn up. He made it up enough to crawl into it. The bed seemed cold and lonely without Dolores. Was it going to hurt like this a long time? He wasn’t worried – Dolores could manage all right. He wasn’t angry – he deserved it. It had been a long time since he had appreciated any of the many things she did for him. It had been a long time since he had treated her with any kindness. He got what he deserved.

The next morning, after he dressed and shaved, he went to McDonald’s for breakfast. Then he went to Comet Cleaners and Dry Cleaning to pick up his dress uniform and his laundry.  It was $38. He had better learn to use the washing machine and dryer at home! From there he went to the grocery store.

He organized his shopping by meals. First, he shopped for breakfasts.  He took a box of instant oatmeal packets, a box of instant grits packets, a box of dry cereal, a half gallon of orange juice, and a half gallon of milk. For lunches he put in the basket a loaf of bread, a package of lunch meat, a package of cheese slices, a jar of peanut butter, a carton of mixed fruit, a carton of applesauce, and a carton of pudding – all in individual serving cups, a carton of bottles of water, a box of sandwich bags, and lunch bags.

For the suppers he went slowly down the aisle looking for ideas. He picked up cans of beef stew, chicken and dumplings, chili, spaghetti and meatballs, and ravioli. Then he picked out a variety of canned vegetables. In the produce aisle he picked up a bag of small carrots, a stalk of celery, and in the cooler a carton of cole slaw. A loaf of bread and a jar of instant coffee completed his haul. That ought to do him until the next time he had two days off.  None of the things he had chosen required any knowledge of cooking. He would start off simple and when he had some practice he might try something more difficult.

At home, he carried the groceries, the uniform, and the laundry into the house. He took the uniform upstairs and hung it up. He made the bed while he was in the bedroom. Downstairs, he put the groceries away. With that completed, he tackled the laundry. The bed sheets and pillow cases were put away in the hall closet. The laundry had ironed and folded his shirts; he put them in drawers. He took the towels and wash cloths to the bathroom. His underwear and handkerchiefs and socks he put in drawers.

It was well past lunch time. He was so tired that he didn’t feel like cooking. He made himself a bowl of dry cereal. He looked for fruit in the refrigerator and realized that that was something he had forgotten to get at the grocery store. He remembered seeing some raisins when he was putting away the groceries. A cup of instant coffee finished his meal. While drinking it, he realized that he had not bought sodas or bottles of tea. He saw a notepad hanging from the refrigerator door. On it he wrote “fruit, soda, bottles of tea.”

While he was finishing his coffee the phone rang.

“Hello.”

“Willard, this is Beverly. I called to tell you that I am sorry that I was so brusque with you and cut you off. How can I help you?”

“I just needed someone to talk to. My partner cut me off short and said, ‘Give it a break.’  I called you because I didn’t know anyone else to call.”

“Like I said, I am sorry. Can we start over again?”

“Well, when I came home from work on Tuesday evening, I found out that Dolores was missing. She must have left right after I went to work. A teller at the bank told me that Dolores had a savings account that she said was for a Caribbean cruise on our twenty-fifth anniversary. I told her several months ago that I didn’t want to go on a cruise. Dolores withdrew all that money, about three thousand dollars and made a thousand dollar loan on our credit card. She had a small suitcase with her in the bank.

“I have since found out that she rode the hospital’s shuttle to Pine Bluff. She told the driver that she had an appointment with some doctor and he told her to come prepared to stay overnight in the hospital. My guess is that she took a bus from Pine Bluff to Little Rock. From there she could have taken a bus, train, or airplane to any place in the country. At first I was going to try to find out where she went to from Pine Bluff. I decided not to try. I know that she wasn’t abducted and went on her own free will. If she doesn’t want to live with me or be my wife, I’m not going to pursue her.

“Where I am now is trying to learn to do all the things I am accustomed to having her do for me – fixing my meals, taking care of my clothes and the other laundry, shopping, doing housework, paying the bills. It is a second job and one that I am not qualified for.”

“Do you know how to cook?”

“No. I am starting out simple – canned foods, sandwiches, instant and dry cereals, instant coffee. We have a microwave but I don’t know how to use it. I’ll wait until I have time to spare and try to learn to use it.”

“What about the laundry?”

“This week I took the laundry to Comet Laundry – Dry Cleaner. That was pretty expensive. I will have to learn to use the washer and dryer.”

“Do you have any friends?”

“Not really. There are guys that I bowl with and guys that I work with, but everything is on the surface. I’ve never been to their homes and they have never been to our home. My partner is a woman. While we are on the job it is strictly business. She never shares anything personal with me and she made it plain that she didn’t want me sharing anything with her.”

“Willard, you really are all alone.”

“Yeah. Everyone here knows everyone else’s family back for several generations. They went to school together. They just don’t open the gates of friendship to strangers, especially Yankees. I didn’t realize until it was too late that Dolores was my only friend. I didn’t value her friendship.”

“Willard. There is nothing we can do about spilled milk except wipe it up and try to go on. If there is anything I can do to help you, let me know. When you are trying to learn to run the washing machine and dryer or to operate the microwave, if you get stuck, give me a call. Let me tell you this much about washing. Separate it into three loads, white, colored, and dark. Don’t mix those three groups no matter how small a particular load may be. The box of soap powder or jug of liquid laundry detergent will tell you how much to use for the size load you are washing. Always use a little less than it recommends.

“I’ll make a point of calling you every week until you get through the worst of this. I love you, brother.”

“Thanks, Sis, I love you too even though I haven’t said so or showed it.”

 

CHANGE OF LIFE - Chapter 5

The next morning I was awakened with the call to breakfast by the sleeping car steward. He knocked on the door to my room and told me that my time for breakfast in the dining car was 7:45. That gave me more than half an hour to get dressed and ready for breakfast. I went down the aisle to the bathroom carrying my towel. I took a quick shower, not knowing when I would have the next opportunity to do so. Hurrying back to my roomette, I was grateful that no one else was in the aisle. I didn’t have a bathrobe. I had to wear my sleeping gown. Where it became wet, it was almost transparent.

I packed all the items that had been drying overnight, dressed and was ready to go to the dining car on time. I hung my sleeping gown from the top rack so that it would dry.

In the dining car I was seated with two other women. The table had a clean linen table cloth and the eating utensils were silver. A waiter came to take our orders. I was ready to eat a hearty breakfast. I ordered bacon and eggs, two pieces of toast, orange juice, and coffee. The other two ladies ordered rather skimpy meals. They were both dressed in skirts and white silk blouses. The skirts looked to be part of a suit. One woman was wearing pearls, the other was wearing a jeweled necklace. They were finished eating before I was and they left the table. The meal was included in the sleeping car ticket. They didn’t leave a tip.

Clothing doesn’t give you class, but their nice clothes made me conscious of how plain my own clothes are. Months ago I bought two wrinkle-resistant dresses to take on the cruise (now my escape). If they were hung up while still damp, there were no wrinkles when they were dry. They were all right for wearing around the house or going to the store, but in this company they looked plain. I did not have any nice clothes. Willard never took me out. We didn’t go to church. Where would I wear nice clothes?  When I finished eating, I left two dollars by my plate.

When I returned to my roomette, the sleeping car attendant was finishing up folding the beds away and restoring the seats to their position. I gave him five dollars and he thanked me.

“Have you been to the Union Station in Chicago before?” he asked.

“No.”

“It is an awfully busy place. Hang on to your ticket and when you get into the station ask directions to the Metropolitan Lounge. It is only for sleeping car passengers. You will have to show your ticket to get in there. It is a good place to pause, collect your wits. There are dozens of comfortable lounge chairs, free snacks, telephones and computers, maps of Chicago. Some of the nicest people in Chicago work there.”

“Thank you so much.”

I opened the curtain to my roomette so that I could see the people walking up and down the aisles. I watched out the windows at the towns and farms going by. I wished that I had a book , a magazine, or a newspaper to read. I decided to walk through the train. When I got to the end of the car the dining car was next. I tried walking in the opposite direction. That brought me to those narrow steep metal stairs. I wasn’t going to attempt those while the train was moving.

At 11:30 AM the sleeping car attendant came to each roomette with their time to go to the dining car for lunch. My time was 12:20 PM. For lunch I had tomato bisque soup, a turkey sandwich, a fruit cup, and a cup of decaf coffee. An elderly couple sat across from me. I was pleased to see that they left a tip for the servers. I also left a tip.

When the train arrived in Chicago, Union Station was as crowded and busy as it had been described. I asked for directions to the Metropolitan Lounge. The entrance is up a ramp. I walked by it twice before I saw the sign.

As I walked in the door, a man reached for my suitcase. He said,

“I’ll store this in here until you are ready to leave.”

There was a tall counter on the right with several people sitting behind it. A woman asked for my ticket, glanced at it and then handed me a pass. “This will allow you to go in and out of the Lounge all day. When you are ready to leave, turn it in with your claim ticket for your carry-on baggage.”

On the front of the counter were racks with several rows of brochures. Some were for Amtrak, but many others were about Chicago or towns around Chicago. I went toward a row of overstuffed chairs and sofas. On the way I picked up a cup of coffee and a snack. Sitting in the chair I went through the brochures and then opened the map. Going to a computer, I began a search of motels in Chicago, looking to see if they had weekly rates.

I found a place called Hosteling International. There were female dormitories, eight to a room, and shared bathroom for $33 a night including a continental breakfast. That was exactly what I needed; I made reservations for a week. Next I went to the website of Chicago Transit Authority and got directions from Union Station to the hostel. “Walk east on Jackson to the Chicago River, take a #126 bus and ride down Jackson to Wabash. Get off at Wabash and walk south to East Congress Parkway, then walk west on E. Congress a half block to Hosteling International – Chicago”.

With that taken care of, I decided to go outside, walk around the outside of the station to find Jackson and walk down that street to the River to see if I could tell where the bus stop was. It is easier to scout out the way without a suitcase. As I was walking around the station, I found Jackson on one side of the Station. As I walked down Jackson I saw the Union Bakery. Going inside I ordered a turkey sandwich on pretzel bread to go. I also got a bottle of water.

 I’ll take that with me for my supper.

My plan was to spend the first week in Chicago getting acquainted with the city. I wanted to locate several places where I would like to live. Once I found a place to live, then I could go about looking for a job.

I went back into the station and into the Lounge to retrieve my suitcase. I put the bottle of water in my suitcase but had to carry the bag with the sandwich and potato chips. Outside, I walked to the bus stop and waited. When I got on, I asked the driver to call out Wabash (where I needed to get off).

I checked into the hostel. The clerk was pleasant ,but told me that I would have to eat my food in the kitchen, I couldn’t carry food into the dormitory. After I paid for seven nights and a membership in Hosteling International, I went to the kitchen. There were different people in there cooking. Several were Indians who were cooking rice and something with a strong onion or garlic odor. At another counter a girl who looked Scandinavian was preparing something in a bowl.

As I was beginning to eat, a college age girl with a New England accent said to me,

“Oh, that looks so good. Could I have a piece of it?”

The sandwich was much larger than what I could eat. They sold half sandwiches at the bakery and that is probably what I should have ordered. The sandwich had been sliced in half. I smiled and handed the girl the other half.

“Oh, you are so generous. May I sit with you?  I see that you are married. Is your husband staying in the male dormitory?  I guess not or he would be out here sharing this sandwich. Pardon me, it is rude to be nosy.”

“Not at all. I left my husband several days ago, and came to Chicago to start a new life. I want to find out if I am worth anything as a person. I guess that sounds strange.”

“It isn’t strange if you know what it means.”

“What about you?”

“I am in college. I just finished my second year. I was supposed to go back to my parents’ home in Pennsylvania for the summer. Last week, I heard from my boy friend, ex-boy friend. He wanted to tell me, before I came back and found out , that he has been going with a girl in that town who has just graduated from high school. I feel like such a fool. I had been writing love letters to him every week, talking to him on the phone, and all along he was dating another girl! I decided to travel around the country this summer. I have money in the bank that I thought I was saving for my wedding trousseau.”

“For the past five years I had been saving money for a Caribbean cruise on our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. I was hoping that we could recapture the love that brought us together when we were first married. My husband didn’t want to go on a cruise. On our anniversary night I fixed a really nice dinner, wore my nicest clothes. He didn’t seem to notice. He didn’t bring me a card, or flowers, or candy. He didn’t even say “Happy Anniversary!”  So the next day I left.”

When we finished eating Gloria showed me the bulletin board. There were the rules, which was to be expected. There were also a dozen or more notices of activities in Chicago. The Hostel sponsored a walking tour of midtown Chicago several times a week.

We went back to the dormitory. There were bunk beds. Gloria showed me a bottom rack that wasn’t taken yet. I was surprised at how modern and clean everything was. There was a wall locker for each person. All eight occupants shared a bathroom. I opened my suitcase and unpacked.  The Hostel also had a laundry. So far all of my money was in my pocketbook. I’ll sleep with it, probably take it to the bathroom with me. I can’t open a bank account until I have an address.

Gloria asked if I would like to go out for a drink.

“No. I don’t drink and I don’t think I would be comfortable in a bar even if I only drank a cola. I have an awful lot that I need to sort out. I think I will take my maps and papers out to the lobby and sit in one of the comfortable chairs out there.”

I took my notebook and the maps and brochures out to the lobby and tried to find a place to be alone. In my notebook I wrote the things that I wanted to do tomorrow.

I will divide my money, put part of it in my suitcase, some in my pocketbook, some in my wallet, some in my pocket so that if I lose some, or have some of it taken from me, I won’t be altogether without cash. I can’t open a bank account without an address. I can’t get a driver’s license or even a photo identification card without an address. I wondered how I could pay the credit card I had in my maiden name without a bank account or an address.

I can foresee that I will probably have to give my former residence in job applications. That brought up the question of whether it is necessary to try to hide from Willard where I am.

I am going to buy a “disposable” phone, a cell phone for which you can buy minutes cards in retail stores. When I do, I will decide whether to call Willard.

I will also buy a transit card. The fare is $2.25. It is inconvenient to have to have the right change every time you get on a bus or train. I thought that a 30-day pass was slightly less than $90. Tomorrow I will ride on an elevated train just to see what it is like and how well I can orient the actual ride with the maps that I have. I want to find an old neighborhood where I can rent just a room.

I said that I was running away to find out for myself if I have any self-worth, if I have anything to contribute to life. What is it that I want to do, what is it that I want to be?  

CHANGE OF LIFE -Chapter 4

    The next morning Willard got up, and put on the uniform he had laid out the night before. He gathered up his dress uniform, went to the laundry basket, took out Dolores’ things, and put all the rest of the dirty laundry on one of the sheets from the bed. He put the other sheet from the bed and the pillow cases onto the sheet and made a bundle of the dirty laundry. On the way to work he dropped it all off at Comet Laundry-Drycleaner.  Going to the drive through at McDonalds he ordered two sausage biscuits and a cup of coffee for his breakfast.

He could do this. If Dolores didn’t want to live with him anymore, so be it. He would learn to manage on his own. After roll call, he went to the desk sergeant and filed a missing person report on Dolores. That day, driving around on patrol, he talked incessantly about Dolores’ leaving. Finally, his partner Patrolman Ginger Colvin said,

“Give it a rest, Willard. Give it a rest. She’s gone and talking about it won’t bring her back.”

“First Beverly, now Ginger. Dolores would have understood that I need to talk it out until I get it out of his system. Dolores understood me.”

 He really missed her now.

When he arrived home after his shift, Willard went directly to the kitchen. He took off his shirt, and turned on the water. When it started running hot, he filled the sink half full and added some liquid dish detergent. He found a clean dish rag and dish towel in the drawer next to the sink. After he washed several items and laid them out on the dish rack, he saw that they were soapy. He held each one under the hot water from the spigot. Then he tackled the frying pan. Then he let the water drain out of the sink, dried the dishes, and put them away. That was done.

He went upstairs, looked for clean sheets and pillow cases, and found them in the hall closet. It had been a long time since he had made up a bed – over twenty-five years ago in the Army. He knew how and he could do it. When it was made. It didn’t look as nice as when Dolores made the bed. It would have to do.

He put out all the items of uniform that he would need to wear tomorrow.  Now he could think about supper.

He looked for paper plates but couldn’t find any. He would just have to use plates and other items and wash them like he did tonight. He found bread, lunch meat, and some applesauce. There were cans of beer in the refrigerator. He took one. He made a meal on those items. Now to sit down in the living room and relax!

At ten o’clock he went upstairs. He took a shower before climbing into the bed with clean sheets. Clean sheets were always special the first night. He expected to go to sleep right away.

Instead, he lay awake remembering when he and Dolores had first met. He was in a new school, working four and five nights a week from the time school let out until ten o’clock. He drove a car delivering prescriptions for two drug stores. They were both named Stansbury Pharmacy. The pharmacy leased a car from a taxicab company. They did any maintenance that was required. When the car had 10,000 miles they took it and gave the pharmacy a new car.

His father took his salary from him. What his father didn’t know is that he got tips from most of the people to whom he delivered prescriptions. Will kept these tips. In fact Dr. Levin gave him a drawer behind the pharmacy counter where he could keep them.

He didn’t have many friends at this new school. The girls ignored him. Dolores had attracted his attention with some sharp, acid comments. She had acne on her face, but she kept her long hair brushed to a luxuriant sheen. Her eyes had a look of sadness, but they could sparkle like stars.

He decided to invite her out. That evening went well. In fact, she even took his hand while they were in the movie theatre. After they had dated for a while, when they were walking down the street, she had a way of grasping his arm above the elbow, and resting her head on his shoulder. They were a steady item all through that last year of high school.

Her mother as much as told her to try to get pregnant so that Will would marry her. She told Dolores that she would have to move out and find a job and a place of her own after graduation. That put pressure on their relationship. They would “pet” and go pretty far, but Will had decided that he was going to preserve her virginity. It would be her gift to him or whoever she married on their wedding night.

Willard went into the Army. After basic training, more training, and then experience as a military policeman, he was sent over to Germany for two years. Dolores was faithful in writing to him. She would write several times a week. She bought a Polaroid camera with a timer so that she could take sexy pictures of herself to send one at a time in her letters. When he returned, they were crazy in love, and they married.

Willard had saved money and so had Dolores. Will was hired as a patrolman by Prattsville, a small town in southern Arkansas. He used his savings as down payment on a two bedroom home. Dolores used her savings for furniture. They were happy to be in their own home. They wanted a baby to make their joy complete. 

The first years of their married life they were so in love. He couldn’t wait to see her at the end of his shift. On his days off they took day trips, camping trips, went hiking, anything to be together. Their sex life was happy and wild. Dolores was game for anything. Their sex nearly always ended with both of them laughing or giggling or tickling each other.

Then the joyful day arrived when Dolores announced that she was pregnant. Several months later it ended in a miscarriage. The doctor told them that Dolores had to avoid getting pregnant for six months. They were careful and waited before started trying again. This time it was eight months more before she again became pregnant. That pregnancy also ended in a miscarriage. The doctor advised waiting a half year or more. By now their sex was becoming awkward. The freedom was gone. The excitement and hope was fading. Will started feeling like he was somehow causing injury to her. He didn’t know whose fault the miscarriages were. Marriage wasn’t what he thought that it would be.

Over the next two years there was another miscarriage and then a tubal pregnancy. At that point the doctor advised that they stop trying to have a baby. Willard wondered,

“If we were living in a big city, were still living in Baltimore, would a doctor there be able tell us what is wrong?”

Willard would not say, he would not consciously think, that Dolores was to blame. But that that is how he started to treat her. She accepted his “punishment”, because, subconsciously, she accepted that it was her fault that they couldn’t have children.

More and more he talked mean to her. He stopped taking her places. He criticized nearly everything she did. With that realization he fell into a troubled sleep tossing and turning all night. The next morning the clean sheets were rolled up and twisted.

Willard found a box of instant oatmeal in the kitchen cabinet and put several packets in a bowl. He made a cup instant coffee. Tomorrow and the next day were his days off. He would have time to plan the meals for the coming week, and determine what other housework had to be done.

After roll call he checked with the desk sergeant. There had been no responses to the missing person report. Next he went to his captain.

“Captain, my wife walked out on me a couple days ago. I don’t know why or where she went. Could I have permission to make some inquiries while I am out on patrol today?”

“Sure, as long as it doesn’t interfere with the performance of your duties.”    

Out in the patrol car he said,

“Ginger, I know that you asked me to give it a rest, but I want to ask your help. My wife left the bank carrying a suitcase and $4000. Maybe she was being forced to do it. But suppose she just wanted to get out of town. How could she do it?”

“She could have hired someone to drive her to Pine Bluff or some other nearby city such as El Dorado or Monroe. From there she could have gotten on a bus. Pine Bluff, Pine Bluff. There is a shuttle from the hospital that takes senior citizens to their appointments with specialists in those offices surrounding the regional hospital.”

“Let’s go ask the driver.”

When they got to the hospital, the shuttle had just pulled up. Willard jumped out of the patrol car, and walked up to the shuttle bus. The driver opened the door.

“Sergeant O’Reilly. I saw your wife a couple days ago. She had a suitcase with her and said that she had to see Doctor Pepperdine. How is she doing?”

“I don’t know. Where did she go when she got off the shuttle?”

“She went right into the hospital through the Emergency Room doors.”

“Thank you.”

He knew that she went as far as Pine Bluff. He would ask her doctor if he had referred her to a doctor, and if he had ever heard of a Dr. Pepperdine. Meanwhile, if she went farther, it would probably be by bus. He would check with the credit card to see if it was used to buy a bus ticket, and if so, maybe the bus company could tell him to where. Those were things that he could do from home tomorrow. There was no point in asking around town any more. He knew that she went to Pine Bluff, and he knew how she got there.

 

CHANGE OF LIFE - Chapter 3

I arrived at the station a couple hours before the time of departure. I retrieved my suitcase from the locker and sat on one of the benches. In a little notebook, I wrote down what I had spent so far. Then I made a to-do list for when I arrived in Chicago.

After an hour, a woman of about my age sat down on the same bench.

“Hello, my name is Dolores. I’m going to Chicago. Is that where you’re going?”

“My name is Mildred. Yes, I’m going to Chicago. I came to Memphis to visit my grandchildren. They grow up so quickly. One of them is eight years old now, the other is six. They are both in school. The last time that I saw them, the oldest was just starting school. I wish they would come to see me some time, but I guess that I wouldn’t have room for them in my studio apartment. Why are you going to Chicago?”

“I’ve never been to Chicago. I know it is a big city. I grew up in a big city, Baltimore, but I’ve lived in a small town for the last twenty-five years. I want to start a new life. I want to find out what I am worth as a person. I guess that is a strange statement.”

“Do you have children?”

“No. That is part of the problem. When we couldn’t have children, my husband sort of turned on me. It got worse over the years. All the time that I was growing up my mother criticized or made fun of everything I said or did. I got married partly to get away from that. After five years of marriage my husband started the same pattern my mother followed. At first I didn’t pay much attention to it. I was used to it. Over the years it became intolerable. Yesterday morning, I snapped. I walked away. I know that I have to go far, and be careful, or else my husband will find me. He’s a police detective.”

“Well, I can’t say that I understand. My husband was good to me. I hope it was for more reasons than the fact that I gave him children. He never missed a day in telling me that he loved me. Whenever I did something for him, he would thank me. He always noticed when I did something around the house, or if I changed my hair, or was wearing new shoes. What a wonderful man he was!  He’s been gone five years now. He died suddenly of an aneurysm in his brain. Just dropped dead at work. It hasn’t been easy for me, but I’ve managed somehow.”

“I’m sorry about your loss. He sounds like a model husband. I really would appreciate it, if you could tell me neighborhoods or sections of the city where I could find a room to rent. I don’t have much money. I’ll have to try to find a job. Before I can go job-hunting, I need an address for applications and forms. I also need to find a used clothing store or a church with a clothes closet.”

Mildred gave me some suggestions, which I wrote in my notebook. About then, the first call to board the train was given. Mildred was riding in a coach, so we were separated. I went on down the platform to my sleeper car, and I was helped aboard by the steward. I had to climb narrow metal stairs to the second level of the car. The steward carried my suitcase for me, and showed me to my roomette.

I was glad to see that the bed was already made up. I closed the folding curtain and began to undress. I put my stockings and underwear in the small sink in the roomette to wash them. I’ll hang them up to dry during the night. When I had washed these things, I washed myself as well as I could in a small sink and crowded roomette. Then I crawled into the bed and looked forward to getting a good night’s sleep.

The bed was comfortable and the motion of the train was like being rocked in a cradle. However, I didn’t go to sleep right away. I began to think about how Willard and I met, became boy friend – girl friend, and eventually were married.

Willard came to Ravenwood High School in our senior year. He had to take a few classes with the junior class, but the rest of his classes were with seniors. He was in my English class and my chemistry class. He was disliked by most of the guys and all of the girls. He was so smart. It seemed like he always knew the answers. He had read so many books; he carried on conversations with the English teacher that none of the rest of the class could follow.

He was a hillbilly. He and his family came from West Virginia. People from Baltimore did not like people from West Virginia. Some of the kids looked down on him, because his clothes were shabby. Even I made hateful remarks to him, maybe to stay in good with my friends.

One day, just after English class, he came up to me and said, “Could I speak privately to you for just a few minutes?”  

I was embarrassed.

“I guess so.”

“I have been attracted to you since I started coming to school here. I know you probably don’t think very much of me. I would like to take you to the movies, and then get something to eat afterwards. Maybe after you get to know me better, you’ll find some things about me to like.”

“I don’t know. Let me think about it.”

“Could I have your phone number. I’ll call you tomorrow night a little after 10 PM. I hope that isn’t too late, but I work until 10.”

I gave him my phone number, talked things over with my mother, and when he called, I told him I would go out with him. We continued talking for almost an hour that night. Willard was the first boy to ask me out on a date. In junior high school I was too shy. By the time I was in high school I had acne on my face. Several times I asked my mother to take me to a dermatologist. She always said that she couldn’t afford it, and all I had to do was keep washing my face good with soap and water.

Willard didn’t take me to the local cinema. He took me into downtown Baltimore where they were showing a first run film, The Blues Brothers. We were both nervous, and the film was so funny that we laughed time and again. I was so happy. I took his hand while we were in the theatre. He looked over and smiled.

I thought that he would take me to a hamburger joint, but he took me to Maria’s, a restaurant in Little Italy. He held the chair for me. When Maria saw that, she walked over to the table, hugged me, and whispered, “Honey, he’s a keeper.”

Willard didn’t have a car. We had to go places on the city transit bus. He took me to museums, art galleries, concerts. He acted like I was as smart as he was. He never talked down to me. Every time that we went out, he would find something about my appearance to compliment. He was so different from my mother. She was always criticizing me, making fun of what I said. I couldn’t say anything good about Willard.

“He only wants one thing. When he gets it, it will be ‘Bye-bye Dolores.’”

When my mother told my father that she was pregnant, he left her. She never heard from him again. She had a hard time, but she raised me on her own. The hard life made her bitter. Maybe she resented me because I was the responsibility that kept her nose to the grindstone all her life. When she was no older than I am now, she looked ten years older. After I was gone from the home, I thought that she might be happier, but it seemed like she had lost her purpose in living. She was only sixty years old when she died of a fast moving cancer.

We dated steadily throughout our senior year. I couldn’t afford a class ring, but the day Willard received his class ring, he put it on my finger.

Senior Prom was on the horizon. He couldn’t dance and wanted me to teach him. I told him that I couldn’t go because I didn’t have a gown. He said we would work that out when the time came. One week night each week, depending on his work schedule, Willard came to my house and we practiced dancing in the living room. When he held me in his arms, I felt like I was in heaven.

One night when he came over for dancing, he asked, “Will you be my date for the Senior Prom?”

“You know that I told you I don’t have a gown. I can’t get a gown.”

“I’ve got that worked out. My boss, Dr. Levin, is Jewish. At his synagogue, the young women’s organization has a project each year. They loan gowns to girls for their prom. I’ll take you there this Saturday. The young women will let you pick out a gown. Then they have a seamstress there who will measure you for alterations. They will have you try on shoes until you find a pair that fits you. We’ll go back the following Saturday. The gown will be altered and the shoes dyed to match the gown. We tell them the date of the prom, and they will tell us what date to return the gown and shoes to them. Now. Will you be my date to the Senior Prom?”

“Yes, Will, I will.”

The Senior Prom was a magical moment in my life. Willard had rented a tuxedo. He brought me a beautiful corsage that matched my gown. At the Prom, we had our picture taken together. I still have that picture. Going on dates with Willard had brought about a tremendous change in my appearance. I was happy and smiling more and more. I began to see the good things in me that he was always praising. The acne began to go away. By the night of the Prom, I was one of the most beautiful girls there, if I do say so myself. 

With Prom over, final exams and Graduation were only weeks away. My mother shocked me one night.

“I don’t know if you and your boy friend have been having sex. If not, this would be a good time to start. School will be over with soon. I’m hoping that you will be moving out sometime this summer. I have been supporting you for eighteen years. You haven’t had everything you wanted, but you have had everything you needed. Now it is time to start supporting yourself. You can get a job and an apartment, or you can get married. It is up to you. Start making plans now.”

I told Willard what my mother said.

“Being pressured by your mother is not a good reason to get married, or to bring a baby into the world. As for sex. You were a virgin when I met you, and I’m not going to take that away from you. That is a precious gift to bring to your husband on your wedding night. We have had fun fooling around, and I am satisfied with keeping the boundaries we decided on.

“I’m going to try to get a job this summer. I am already committed to going into the Army in September. I’ll be in the Army for three years. I hope that you will write to me. If I get any leaves, I will be looking for you. If they send me overseas, I will probably be gone for two years. I don’t have the right to ask you to wait for me, although I hope that you will. During this summer, if you can find a job, and an apartment or a room to rent, I will help you get started.”

I found a job and a tiny apartment. Willard came to see me on leave. Then he was sent overseas to Germany for two years. He wrote to me a couple times a week and I wrote to him. I was often invited to a date, or to a party, but I went to work, went to the library, went to museums and art galleries, and waited for Willard. As Maria had said, “He’s a keeper.”

When Will came out of the Army, he came to me with an engagement ring in his pocket. I said, “Yes” and we went to City Hall for our license. We were married in the military chapel at Ft. Meade where Will was sent for discharge processing. After he was discharged, he started looking for a job as a policeman. He had been in the Military Police in the Army. That is how we came to live in a small town in southern Arkansas.

At that point in my reverie, I fell asleep.