Part 3
The continuation of the story.
Chapter 15
Getting engaged was easy. Getting married wasn’t.
Over the next several months as we dated things returned to normal, at least from my perspective. We spoke every day and saw each other three or four times a week. I used some of the money I had made over the summer to treat her well. We went to nice restaurants and the theatre and I enjoyed watching her reaction when I surprised her with gifts. Most of all, though, I just enjoyed being with her, even doing simple things. We ran together regularly, took walks, and just hung out, talking. She did not much like my friends but we did go out with hers sometimes. I always had a hard time finding interesting things to discuss with them but as long as I could spend time with Sally I didn’t mind. She made me feel, and that alone was so fresh and intoxicating that it was worth everything else.
By February I decided to propose. I realized that it was fast and was worried that it would scare her but I knew what I wanted. One day after she slept over my place, as she showered, I took the measurements of one of the rings she wore. When I confided to a classmate that I was going to buy an engagement ring he suggested that I try the Diamond District, in Midtown. I went down there on a cold weekday after classes.
The streets were teeming with people and lined with small stores and entrances to inside bazaars. All around each of these bazaars were small stalls, each of which sparkled with precious jewelry and gold. The prices were not clearly marked or sometimes not marked at all. I wanted to get the perfect ring but didn’t even know where to begin or whether the dealers were reputable. It was not my speed.
So instead I went to Tiffany’s on Fifth Avenue. A pretty saleswoman helped me, guiding me through their many, and expensive, engagement rings. I finally settled on one that, I later realized, looked a lot like my mother’s. It had a single, large classic round diamond set in white gold. The light just danced through and off the stone. The band was tapered and had a number of small, bead-like diamonds around it. At almost $20,000 it was beyond what I had, but I knew that I would soon be able to pay it back. I used my credit card (really two credit cards, since I hit my credit limit for one) to buy it.
For our date that Friday night I told her to dress up for dinner. Since we would often dress to go out I could keep my intentions secret. I met her outside her apartment building. It was a cold night and we were both bundled up. I hailed a taxi and we drove to the restaurant.
I had picked a special restaurant, one of the nicest in New York. We had never eaten there — or, for that matter, anyplace in that stratosphere of highly starred and expensive restaurants. As soon as we arrived our coats were taken, which is when I saw Sally’s stunning outfit. She was wearing a tight fitting black dress with white lines down the side. It went up to mid-thigh and down to expose just a hint of her breasts. With the black high heel shoes it was sexy as hell.
The restaurant was relatively small and, unlike many restaurants in New York, maintained a respectable distance between tables. It was classy and subdued, with fresh flowers and a candle on our table. I ordered wine for us and she looked at the menu. I could sense her discomfort.
“Everything okay?”
“I’ve never eaten in a restaurant like this. I’m not sure how this menu works.”
It was a three course prix fixe menu, with choices for each of the courses. Truth be told, the menu was a bit intimidating, even for me. Many of the ingredients and preparations were foreign, often quite literally. I blustered my way through it, though, and recommended some dishes. When the server came I ordered for the two of us. We looked around and took in the quiet elegance; the wood paneling and exquisite attention to detail. We sat quietly for a minute sipping our wine and hardly noticing as our water glasses were instantly refilled.
“This is something. Anything special?”
“Just you.”
“That’s sweet.”
“You look beautiful tonight.”
“Don’t I always?”
I laughed.
“OK, you look normal tonight.”
“You don’t like the dress?”
She had been quiet before but was slowly coming out of her shell. We bantered and flirted a bit. She shared the stories of her dysfunctional office. I barely heard, though. I was trying to figure out when and how I should propose. I hadn’t full thought this through and the ring was burning a hole in my pocket.
Dinner proved to be unexpectedly complicated. Each course came with a description of the ingredients, where they are from (for example, the butter was from the cream of cows pastured near the ocean in Normandy, France) and what (sometimes unnatural things) the chef did to them. It was quite an experience, though. The flavors were layered and delightfully shifted in the course of a mouthful. I had never expected that eating could be so interesting and exciting.
Sally was now telling me about problems with her roommate. I had never met her. Actually — and this did bother me a bit — I had never been inside her apartment. She always insisted that we stay at my place. She said that her place was small and it embarrassed her. Her roommate too was a pain in the ass. The mood was not quite right.
And then, suddenly, dinner was over. I paid with my credit card — what’s another $500 on top of a $20,000 balance? — and we were slipping back into our coats. I was caught off guard and feeling queasy.
“Home?”
“How about a nightcap?” It sounded silly, but I was desperate. It was 10 PM, still early for us.
“Sure.”
We got a taxi and rode for a short distance. She was quiet and did not ask where we were going. I decided to bring her to the Rainbow Room, high up in Rockefeller Center. We ascended to the 65th floor and got a table by the window. We looked down at Manhattan, all lit up. It was beautiful and romantic and I was nervous.
“Is everything okay? You seem quiet tonight?”
She took a deep breath.
“I – , I-. John and Jane are separating.”
I was surprised. They had three children, the oldest of which was fourteen. I had only met them that once.
“Jane left,” Sally continued. “She told John that she couldn’t live like that anymore and she had been unhappy for years. John is really upset.”
“What do you mean, live like that? How do you know?”
“Jane called me and I met her earlier today for coffee. She seemed depressed but determined. She told me that when they had met, there had been sparks. John was devoted, and passionate. She loved the way he looked at her. John was never very romantic but they were deeply in love with each other. And then, over time, it just got less passionate. Last week Jane discovered that John was having an affair.”
“An affair?”
“Yeah. She doesn’t know all the details but she suspected something and confronted him. He admitted it and they had a giant fight. You never want to get into a fight with Jane. She has an incredible temper.”
We sat for a moment quietly.
“Are you surprised?”