Rochelle

"You look a mess." Rochelle told me as she, Rob and Lori got in my car for the ride to the airport. It was 5:00am and I hadn't slept much for the past couple of days.

"I just broke up with Rose." I blurted out without even thinking.

"I’m so sorry." Rochelle replied after a shocked pause. She placed her hand on my arm as she spoke. Her action and reaction caught me by surprise, but I could feel her warmth through my winter coat.

The new millennium was dawning. It was January of the year 2000 and change was in the air.
…

Rochelle and I had known each other for over 25 years. Her late husband, Chris was my best friend. Chris had died of cancer only a few weeks earlier. Rochelle was taking her grown kids, Lori and Rob, on a family get away to Mexico. The last twenty months of turmoil had taken a toll on them, as Chris went through painful and unsuccessful treatments. This getaway was to allow for some kind of closure for them. Rochelle had devoted almost two years of her life to helping Chris beat this demon. No one could ask for a more loyal and devoted wife.

This was the first time I had seen Rochelle since she returned to her home town from the cancer centre in my city. Chris returned home by air ambulance to await his fate. I felt emptiness, as I saw him for the last time at the cancer centre, awaiting his flight. He lay in his hospital bed, as the attendant wheeled him to the ambulance that would take him to the airport. Chris was gaunt and pale – only a fraction of the physical being he once was.

What do you say to someone who is going off to die? It made my problems with Rose seem small.

I felt deep sadness, as I looked at Chris. Was it sadness for him, or for me? I knew I would never see him again. "Good luck, my friend," was all I could muster as I watched him leave. It felt like such an inadequate farewell. Chris handled the situation with grace and composure. He fought all the way, but the fight was over. The doctors said they did all they could. He only had days or weeks left. He knew what awaited him; he was prepared. No regrets, no grumbling, no self-pity. I was impressed.

Rochelle had to drive the car back home the next morning. I asked her to join me for breakfast before she left. I hoped that talking with her, even for a few moments, would make me feel connected with Chris. We met at Denny’s Restaurant on the edge of town.

Although I had known Rochelle for all those years, I never really knew her. In all the times we had been together, I had only ever talked with Chris. Rochelle was always relegated to the background. Her short stature – less than five feet in heels – made it easy to forget she was there.

During Chris’ stay in hospital, I visited often and long. But each time I came, the family, including Rochelle, took the opportunity to make some necessary time for themselves. Again it was just Chris and I.

Now I was sitting across a booth from Rochelle talking to her for the first time. I felt something strange, but I didn't know what it was. For the first time, I noticed her beauty – even at age fifty-two.

Things were not good between Rose and me. This combined with Chris’ situation, caused my emotions to twist into a big knot. I talked to Rochelle about my personal situation, but otherwise, we kept the discussion light. Chris’ terminal cancer was the eight hundred pound gorilla in the room, and we didn't mention it.

Rochelle’s husband of over twenty years was dying, but Rochelle handled herself with such poise and strength. I was amazed at how full of life she was in the face of impending widowhood. I didn’t want our time to end. There was something electric about being with her. I forgot all about my problems with Rose and the unspoken situation with Chris. I tried hard to suppress my surprise attraction to Rochelle.

I walked with Rochelle to the parking lot, and her green Lada, which was loaded with belongings she had brought for their five week ordeal at the cancer clinic.. We hugged. I had never touched Rochelle before. I am not a hugger, but I needed a hug from her. It was an awkward embrace, especially given the difference in our heights. To call Rochelle petit would be a gross understatement. I towered over her tiny frame as I held her tight. I felt something deep inside as we embraced in friendship, not in love.

Again, I felt emptiness as I watched her drive off. I asked her to keep me posted regularly and I knew she would call with updates. Rochelle called every couple of days to let me know Chris’ condition, which kept worsening. Then on December 13, she called with the news Chris had passed away. Of course I wasn’t surprised, but it still gave me a jolt.

I started to realize that I was developing feelings for Rochelle. I felt this was completely inappropriate. I was still with Rose, and Rochelle had just lost her husband. I had to keep these feelings buried. It wasn’t right.

Rochelle held a celebration of Chris’ life, only days before Christmas 1999. I knew it would be a somber Christmas for Rochelle and her kids. I felt I should do something but what? I wanted Rochelle to know I was thinking of her. But I did not want to expose the new feelings I acquired. It might have been just sympathy for Rochelle and self pity for me.

I sent a poinsettia - the Christmas plant. I addressed it only to Rochelle, not her kids, and I put a simple neutral greeting on the card. It read "Good Luck, Brian"

Rochelle planned to take Lori and Rob to Mexico to get away for a week. Rochelle and Rob were flying to my city on January 1 of the new millennium, to meet up with Lori. Then the three of them would fly to Mexico early in the morning of January 2. I said I would be happy to drive them to the airport. Rochelle accepted my offer.

…

New years eve 1999. The turn of the century. The turn of the millennium. Rose and I planned to go to a house party at her sister’s home. But as usual, her work came first. Rose was a good person whom I truly cared for, but her work as a manager always came first. She said she would have to fill in for some staff who couldn’t work on New Year’s Eve. I was always an afterthought. I never made it to the top of her priority list.

After two and a half years, I was fed up with playing second fiddle to her job. I sat and fumed. Jim, Rose’s brother-in-law stopped by early in the evening and I vented at him. He had seen this side of Rose long before I came along, but he thought my presence would cure her of her obsession with work. But, she carried on as though her job was the most important thing in her life. Obviously I was not.

I called my son, Cam, and told him there was a chance I would be moving in with him that night. I was at my wits end. This is not what I expected from a relationship. This is not what I expected from life. I was prepared to try once more to make it work. But I didn't have the twenty-five years invested, as I did when my marriage to Marlene failed. I could walk away, and cut my losses. At forty-eight, I was young enough to start again.

I sat at home pondering my next move when Rose called about 10:30 in the evening to say that she had found someone to fill in for the rest of the night, and would be home in half an hour. I just said OK, and waited. She could tell I wasn’t happy, but Rose was not one for confrontation.

Rose came home and went straight to the bedroom to get dressed for the party. She didn't even say hello. When she came out, dressed to go I said, "We need to talk."

"I’m not interested in talking." She wasn’t prepared to deal with the problem. She would rather ignore it and hope it went away. I wouldn’t let it go this time.

"We have to talk." I wouldn’t back down.

"I’m going to the party. Are you coming with me, or not?" Rose stood at the door, ready to leave. I stood at the top of the stairs looking at her. I knew this was going nowhere. There was no future. If she wouldn’t talk, then I would have to bring it to a close.

"Should we call it quits?" I asked, looking directly into her eyes.

Rose looked down and mumbled, "I guess so."

"I’ll pack my things." I was resigned to my fate.

She left for the party.

I gathered as much of my stuff as I could in one car load, leaving the rest for another day. Cam had already left for a New Year’s trip with his girlfriend, so I was alone when I arrived at his apartment. I called Cam on his cell phone to let him know what was happening. He was driving when he answered. He wasn’t surprised but he was upset. He cried and offered to cancel his trip to be with me. I told him I was fine and he should enjoy.

I spent the turn of the millennium browsing the internet, and watching the New Year’s celebrations on TV - alone. But I was OK. I found it was better to be lonely alone, than to be lonely when you are with someone. It was a valuable lesson.

…

I was a mess when I picked up Rochelle and her kids. But a happy mess. I was starting a new life. I was in control of my destiny.

I dropped Rochelle, Lori and Rob at the departures level of the airport. Although I could sense I had feelings for Rochelle, it was too soon for her, and it was too soon for me. Or so I thought.

As they headed into the airport I suggested, “Why don’t you give me a call when you get back. I would love to see your pictures and hear about your trip. Maybe we can have dinner.” I knew that a friend of Lori’s was picking them up when they returned, so I wouldn’t see Rochelle then. I felt a need to at least keep the door open. Rochelle said she would call. but would she?

She called immediately upon her return from Mexico. I was elated. I offered to pick her up and take her to the Garlic Clove restaurant which was very close to her daughter’s house where she was staying. I wanted to hear about her trip to Mexico. I wanted to tell her about my love life, or lack of it. I wanted to find out if she might be available some day. I wanted to find out if she was interested in me. But I wanted to respect her personal crisis. After all, she had only been a widow for less than a month and I was only out of my relationship for a few days. I had better keep the discussion to just Mexico and keep my mouth shut about anything else.

We were experiencing a January snow storm, so I had to plow through fresh fallen snow to reach her place. I trudged up to the door of Lori’s apartment where Rochelle was staying. She was waiting for me with a huge smile on her face, which was framed with her golden hair. I guided her through the still falling flakes of white, to my car.

Everything is made of garlic, at the Garlic Clove. The drinks, appetizers, salad, bread, main course, dessert. We reeked of garlic. But it didn't matter. I didn't notice and she didn't seem to notice. Rochelle was great company. She positively beamed, as she showed me her pictures from Mexico. This trip had done wonders – for her and for her kids.

We never talked about Chris. I had to deal with my loss in my own way, and Rochelle had to deal with her loss in her own way. Although we both lost the same person, we each lost something different. The loss was not what we shared between us now.

I didn't want the night to end. Rochelle would be in town until Saturday morning. Today was Tuesday. Could I get more time with her without being disrespectful? Would she want more time with me. As I drove her back to Lori’s place, I asked if she would like to go to the theatre on Friday. She agreed without hesitation. I pushed my luck and added a supper invitation. Again she agreed. What did this mean? I was conscious of the fact that I was speaking with a recent widow. I didn’t want to show any disrespect.

Again I plowed through more freshly fallen snow to Lori’s home. I was the gentleman and walked her through the powdered snow to the door. I said goodnight, without so much as a handshake. My feet barely touched the ground as I floated back to the car. What an evening.

Rose called me the next day. She realized what a mistake she had made and wanted to make amends – try again. For me, the feeling was gone. I didn’t hate her, but I couldn’t see myself back in that situation. But was it my duty to try again?

I bought tickets to the theatre and I called Rochelle to let know. But there was no answer. Would she change her mind? I started to sweat. However, she saw my number on the phone and called me back. We were still on. Thank goodness.

I picked Rochelle up at 6:00. It was becoming apparent that she was as particular about timeliness as I was. This was one area of compatibility I had never experienced.

The Pegasus restaurant served great Greek food. I had made a reservation, so there would be no screw ups. I wanted everything to be perfect. This wasn’t supposed to be a “date”, but I decided to treat it like a “date”. I did the ordering, thinking I would know what Rochelle would like to eat. She didn’t object. Maybe I was trying to impress her with my limited knowledge of Greek food.

I told Rochelle about my call from Rose. I told her that Rose wanted to give it another try and I asked Rochelle for her opinion. After a thoughtful pause, she said, "You deserve better."

I liked her answer. I didn't want to go back to Rose, but I wondered if it was the "right" thing to do. Rochelle gave me the answer I wanted to hear. Had she said you should try again, it would probably mean that I was not on her radar. Her response didn't guarantee me a spot in her life, but it gave me hope.

We never spoke of Chris, but we did talk about my failed marriage of twenty-five years and my unsuccessful relationship with Rose. Rochelle could see the hurt I had been through and appeared genuinely concerned and sympathetic.

I steered the conversation in another but related direction. "Would you ever consider dating again?" Was I treading on unsafe ground?

She hesitated but gave an honest and open reply. "I haven't thought about it, but under the right circumstances I suppose I would consider it."

What were the right circumstances? Could that include me? I didn't dare go that far. But I had made a start. All I wanted was to have a chance - sometime in the future. Please keep me in mind.

As we continued our conversation, travel, and seeing the world seemed to be a constant theme. I told her about my dreams of living and working in other parts of the world. Marlene, my first wife, and then Rose would hear nothing of it. Rochelle seemed to share my dreams. Another unexpected connection.

The show, “Love with a Stranger” was interesting and entertaining, but I was preoccupied with thoughts of Rochelle. We sat gradually leaning towards each other. The more I leaned into her, the more she leaned into me. Once again, it was electric to be with her. I wanted to grab her hand, but I felt I had already intruded too far. I must show respect and restraint.

The next day, Rochelle was flying home. After a long leave of absence from her teaching job to care for Chris, she had to return to her students. I couldn't let the evening end.

On the way to the car, I asked if she would like to go for tea and dessert. The Cheesecake Restaurant was not far from the theatre. Once again, she agreed. She had accepted every offer I made. She agreed to everything I said. Was this all just coincidence? Was I pushing too hard?

At the Cheesecake, our conversation again turned to travel. We talked about what it would be like to live in other countries and experience other cultures. We both bubbled with excitement at the thought. Then out of the blue she gave a broad smile, looked me straight in the eye and said, "Would you like to be my travel partner?" I almost dropped a forkful of precious cheesecake. What was happening? How could I show restraint in the face of such an offer.

I tried not to look shocked. I made like the question was no big deal. Attempting to look calm and confident, which I was not, I replied “I have a trip to Toronto in April. Why don't you come with me?"

"Just give me the dates, and I’ll arrange the time." Her confidence and control blew me away. I was still in a state of shock, but tried to keep my emotions under control. I had been trying to respect the boundaries of a recent widow and the boundaries disappeared before my eyes. What else could happen?

We left the Cheesecake Restaurant, with me trying to conceal my conflicting emotions of shock and elation.

As we walked to the car, I reached for her hand. She responded in kind and our hands locked as we walked. I was awestruck by these everything that was happening. I opened the passenger door to let her in, and closed it after she sat. When I settled into the driver’s seat, I again reached for her hand. She offered it with no hesitation. We barely spoke, as I drove holding her hand tight. Was I shaking?

Only hours to her flight home, but I felt comfortable. Was there any way to squeeze out a few more moments of this dream?

"Would you like to see the apartment that Cam and I share?" I had only been Cam’s "roommate” for 2 weeks.

"Sure," Rochelle replied, again agreeing to my every offer.

I wasn't sure if Cam was home or not. What if he was? Or worse what if he wasn't? I’m not sure if it was good fortune or not, but Cam and his girlfriend, Kara, were sitting on the couch watching TV. I introduced Rochelle to Kara, but Cam, of course, knew Rochelle from before.

Rochelle and I sat on the floor leaning against a stool. It seemed inappropriate to hold her hand in this setting, but our little fingers were touching. We visited with Cam and Kara for about fifteen minutes and then we left. The evening was coming to a close.

I drove Rochelle back to Lori’s place, holding hands for the short drive. We stopped in front of the house and I turned to face Rochelle. I started to lean over hoping to give her a kiss. She threw her right arm around my neck and said with obvious concern, "I don't want to see you hurt anymore." Then planted her lips on mine. Me? Hurt? Sure, but it was nothing compared to what she had been through.

It was over in an instant. She grabbed the door handle and darted for the house closing the car door as she ran off. I didn't even get to walk her to the door. The old Victorian building just gobbled her up. She was gone.

I was left in stunned silence. Was I dreaming? How did this all come about?

I didn't offer to take Rochelle to the airport in the morning. I knew Lori wanted that job. After a fitful sleep, I got up early the next morning. I had to talk to her. I had to know. I picked up the phone and called Rochelle at Lori’s house. Thank goodness Rochelle answered instead of Lori. I’m not sure how I could explain my call to Lori. It was as if Rochelle was waiting for my call.

"I just wanted to know if you felt the same as me, about last night" I stammered.

No explanation needed. Rochelle replied as if she knew my thoughts. "Yes I do. I am coming out at Easter, we’ll see what happens."

"Have a good trip. We’ll talk soon." I didn't know how soon. I ended the call.

The next day was Sunday and I had a prearranged dinner date with Virginia. Now that I was "available", women I knew were coming out of the woodwork.

In the middle of the meal, my cell phone rang. Should I answer it in the middle of a date? Virginia knew that I had consulting clients and students who often called at odd times, so I decided to take the call.

"Hi, It’s Rochelle."

"Hello," I tried to be inviting to Rochelle, without giving away the nature of the call to Virginia.

"I just wanted to tell you that next time, I want more than a kiss." And then she hung up.

Virginia must have seen the stunned look on my face. "Who was that?" she inquired.

"Just a friend." My mind was numb. The evening could not end fast enough.

I called Rochelle the next morning, Monday. This discussion was for real – nothing hidden. It was clear that something was happening. We both felt it and expressed it out loud to each other. I guess at middle age, you are conscious of the time you have left. So we didn’t fool around with the games that young lovers play. We both got right to the point.

"I not prepared to wait until Easter. I have to come to see you as soon as possible." She was emphatic.

“I think you’re right.” I wasn’t even thinking of arguing. We agreed on a weekend get-together starting a week from Friday.

I booked a luxury hotel downtown so we wouldn’t have to contend with my son or her daughter. Cam was aware of my plans, but to this day, Lori is does not know of this trip. I picked Rochelle up from the airport on the Friday night and we immediately fell into each other’s arms.

After a wonderful weekend together, we planned trips to see each other as far as June. We would be together almost every weekend – either at her place or mine.

Monday morning was Rochelle’s first day back at work since her bereavement leave. She went straight to her principal that day and submitted her retirement notice. Our life together was now cast. We could now share in achieving our dreams – together.

(3995 words)