Three Loves (Chapter Nine)

My DEMOCRAT LAWYER looked very serious, but not angry or even mildly irritated.


"I think you've gotten too emotionally involved with me for your own good," he told me quietly.


"It's all right," I responded. "This isn't your fault, and I never meant for this to happen, but I'd started thinking that you were the one I'd be spending the rest of my life with. I guess you just don't feel the same way."


"You came into my life when I was feeling really down, and you lifted my spirits. I'll always appreciate that, and I hope we can continue to be friends. It's just that I don't have time for a personal relationship right now. . ." At that point, he picked up his spindle file and continued. . ."Look at all of these appointments! I never expected to be this busy this soon!"


When he said that, I felt a little more hopeful about us, because he seemed to be ruling out ALL romantic relationships at this time, and who knew what the future would bring. I had all of the patience in the world.


Then, he added--as if in afterthought, "Besides, I'm married."


A few weeks before, I'd had this dream.


In the dream, he and his wife had gotten back together and seemed to be very happy, so I was happy for them.


After I heard the news, I got in the car and drove around thinking things over and ended up in the parking lot of a place we used to shop at times for food when we were on our way to Cunot to visit Uncle George and prepare a homecooked meal for him.


I sat there and watched the people going in and out of the grocery and other stores contained in this strip mall and thought about a lot of things, such as: the happy childhood memories associated with this place (When had life become so complicated?) and all of the loving couples I saw with kids in-tow (This was probably what life was going to be like for my friend, and I had to be happy for him--and, hopefully, someday, I would find that special person and raise a family.).


Then, I woke up. . .


So, it was all a dream. . .


Was I selfish to feel relieved?


But that day in his office, I was no longer dreaming, and he was telling me that we could only be friends because he was both too busy and too married.


"You'll ALWAYS be my friend, won't you?" he asked--though he really didn't need to.


I reassured him that I would.


I also told him that I'd felt especially close to him because of what had happened to me in 1977 with this guy.


I didn't elaborate a lot, as we both had, as the familiar quote goes, "places to go and people to see."


However, I'll give you a thumbnail sketch of the story here.


I wrote about this at Epinions.com. I can't think of the exact title, except the piece was part of a write-off and had "1977" as part of the title. Unfortunately, something about my Internet connection here at home won't let me access that site anymore--but, for those of you who can, it's a story about how certain songs came to be associated with this guy.


Since he looked a lot like how Conway Twitty looked at that time--and even had a top and jeans that looked like one Conway was wearing in a billboard advertisement for Twitty City--I referred to him as Conway in my story about him.


Anyway, I'd always considered this guy to be "my first love."


By this, I didn't mean my first crush or the first guy I'd ever fallen in love with to one degree or another.


And I didn't mean the first guy I'd ever gone to bed with, as that's still in the future.


Note: I've spent the night with a few special guys--that is, drifting off to sleep talking to each other and waking up to the sight of each other the next morning, but I'm talking about sleeping together in the sense of having sex. This is an event I want to save for my future husband.


I don't even mean the first person who ever made me feel super-horny


No, what I mean by "first love" is just a sort of special feeling like nothing else I'd experienced before--and, even though a future love would, likely, make me feel even MORE special, I would always remember and cherish this time of awakening.


I think the best way to explain it is that it's the way that Charles Schulz's real-life little redhaired girl made him feel.


"Conway" and I really seemed to be on the same page for the most part when it came to how we felt about making the education experience better for kids. He and I had both had the experience of running into flack from the powers-that-be when we tried to give kids in our charge what they really needed.


It was sort of a "you and me against the red-tape of the education system" relationship, and there seemed to be a lot of romantic chemistry going on, too.


It's a long, painful story of what ended up happening to us--painful, because "Conway" told a bunch of ugly lies about me, one of the most ridiculous being that I'd cornered him in his apartment with a MACE can and kept aiming it at him while making him talk to me.


It was really hard to accept that someone I'd once been so close to--a person who had, time and time again, been in my corner when I needed him to be--would end up doing something like this.


He had other issues he was dealing with--including being disowned by his parents for a time because he chose to attend another college than the one they had decided he should attend--and he had a lot of anger and hurt inside of him. There had been other painful incidents, unanswered questions, etc. that had also shaped him in his growing-up years.


Back in 1977--for reasons that I can only begin to understand--he responded to life by putting me through hell with his lies and rejection.


In the spring of that year when things were good, the songs THE WAY THAT I WANT TO TOUCH YOU by The Captain & Tennille and WHEN I NEED YOU by Leo Sayer were the songs that most made me think of him (the latter because he often went around the country giving talks and workshops on developing a love of reading and learning in kids).


Things were good until the middle of October of the same year.


On Halloween, I asked Mark if he would share a pizza with Conway (my treat) and try to get to the bottom of what had suddenly gone wrong between us, because it seemed as if, in late September, we had become even closer.


I dropped Mark off at the university library where he would be able to find a lot to do in case he didn't run into Conway and arranged to be back there after ten that night to pick him up.


Meanwhile, I was taking Diana--along with her three youngest stepkids (Wendy, Ralph, and Robin)--out to make the trick-or-treat rounds.


One thing that stands out in my mind was hearing Wendy whimper, "Don't cook me, Alpie! Pleeeeeeeease don't cook me!"


"Ralphie!" Diana scolded. "Quit teasing your little sister."


"I'm not teasing her! I just told her that, if she didn't behave herself, somebody might take her into Wendy's and turn her into a hamburger!" Ralph had a mischievous grin on his face--which quickly disappeared when Diana threatened to spank him and take away his allowance if he didn't quit teasing Wendy.


Diana turned to me and said, "It's so cute when the Wendy's commercial comes on, and Wendy always tells people that it's her restaurant they're advertising."


We were having a wonderful time making the rounds with the kids--and I felt good in knowing that Mark and Conway were probably having a nice talk over pizza, and Mark was getting to the bottom of what had happened to change things between us.


It didn't quite work that way.


Mark was really upset when I picked him up that night, and he told me that Conway ended up having too much to drink and that he'd told him this bizarre story about my holding him hostage with a MACE can.


This was the first time I'd heard that story--but it wouldn't be the last.


I'd thought of Conway as being an honest person, so I couldn't imagine him telling this as a lie--and Mark told me that, either he was a very convincing liar, or else he actually believed what he was saying.


This really worried me, as I was starting to think that he'd snapped.


I found someone with the same last name as his in the phone book of the city he grew up in and decided to write them a letter expressing my concern.


Maybe, I was being nibby, but talented, young actor, Freddie Prinze, had just committed suicide the first part of that year, so the thought that Conway might even be suicidal crossed my mind.


I'd heard that Freddie was going through a divorce, and the thought went through my head that this was a guy who was having suicidal thoughts--but I just thought it was a stupid thought going through my head.


After all, a lot of people went through what I'd been reading that Freddie had gone through over the past couple of years: at least one or two break-ups of serious relationships, and, now, a painful divorce.


At the time, I had a gut-feeling that I should write to him and try to cheer him up, but I didn't carry through with this thought. When he DID kill himself, I was left wondering what would have happened if I had just acted on my first instincts and had written to him.


I wasn't about to make that mistake again! Not with ANYbody--and, CERTAINLY, not with the love of my life!!!


His relatives were, naturally, concerned, but they didn't quite go about getting him to open up in the right way. Instead, they blurted out that they'd received this disturbing letter and wondered if he were okay.


He'd naturally asked who the letter was from, and, when he found out, he called me, threatening all sorts of things from having me thrown into jail to suing me!


"I was worried about you!" I told him. "Why WOULDN'T I be when you told that crazy story about the MACE can!?!"


"But you DID have a MACE can. . ."


"You KNOW why I had that MACE can. My cousin loaned it to me to use for protection, since I would be walking such a long distance at night to get to your place."


(Note: There was a reason why I'd parked so far away, but that's a story in itself that I won't go into here.)


"But you DID have the MACE can, and how was I to know that you weren't going to use it on me!"


YEAH! RiiiiiiiGHT! That was the reason this guy kept finding excuses for me to stay--and why we'd ended up doing some pretty passionate necking and cuddling.


I'd had MORE than enough of this trash-talking he was doing now, so I shouted, "GROW UP, CONWAY!!!"


He gave a gasp, paused for a second, and then shouted back, "I DON'T HAVE TO LISTEN TO THIS!!!" and hung up the phone.


Mark was staying with us at the time, and I ran to him and threw myself into his arms crying. He kept holding me and telling me that none of this was my fault.


Even after all of that, I didn't give up easily on trying to make things right between Conway and me.


By 1978, I was going all out to focus on other parts of my life, even though Conway was always on my mind. At that time, my "theme song" was Gloria Gaynor's I WILL SURVIVE!


I could tell you a lot more, but I don't want to go into all of it now, as there's just too much to tell, and it isn't the focus of this series.


But I will tell you that I had at least one well-meaning friend to keep telling me to "Throw Conway in the garbage can!" and get back to being fun again.


Edith's father had recently passed away, and she was going through a lot of pain of her own, and my own pain simply compounded hers, so she just wanted it to be over with.


But it wasn't that easy for me.


I kept trying to put on a carefree front for Edith, but she saw right through it--and kept nagging me to hurry up and forget about Conway.


_______ _______ _______


In time, I was truly able to go on with my life--but, even to this day, I cherish all of the good times associated with that magical time in 1977, and I still care very much about Conway and what's going on in his life.


Conway isn't his real name, of course, but that's good enough for calling him by when you pray for him.


Over the years, his life got better in a lot of ways as he saw some of his dreams come true.


He and I even ran into each other on occasion, and our last few meetings and conversations were friendly ones.


But a combination of a lot of different things going on in his life caused his drinking to go out-of-control, and he eventually ended up losing his position, which he'd worked so hard to obtain.


Eventually, he disappeared, and nobody has heard from him.


For all I know, he could be out on the street--and, frankly, I'm very much afraid that this is what has become of him.


I've tried putting his name into different search engines, but nothing has come up.


But I DO believe in the power of prayer and positive thoughts, so thanks, in advance, for yours.


_______ _______ _______



I know I've wandered on a little side-trip away from my story--so I'll begin again where I left off when I post Part Ten, which I'm going to be writing as soon as I get this posted.


TO BE CONTINUED. . . "Three Loves (Chapter Ten)"