Being men, even if we were in our 60s and 70s, there was a little talk about the new ‘talent’. It wasn’t crude, but I wasn’t used to talking about a woman like that. I hadn’t been so physically attracted to a woman I saw for the first time since I met Eva all those years ago. So while my friends talked as if they were teens, I was silent. I felt like it was very inappropriate (it was, really, though not graphic) and in my heart, I was still in love with Eva. Looking at another woman the way I saw this stranger made me feel like I was being unfaithful.
Over the next few weeks, I saw her a number of times around the complex,’ and we always smiled pleasantly at each other and after a while we even started saying hello when we met. I noticed she made friends with a few women I knew socially. But so far we hadn’t formally met. That changed the weekend before Christmas.
The restaurant in the ‘club’ on the premises was pretty casual during the week, but if you went on the weekend, Saturday and Sunday nights, you were expected to dress for dinner. For men, that meant jacket, button down shirt and tie. Since we were almost all formerly professional men and women, we knew how to dress appropriately. For me, that Saturday before Christmas (it was a party that night, with live music), that meant one of my Brooks Brothers dark suits, a white shirt and a striped tie. Classic conservative. Since I knew most of the other residents to some degree, I went by myself at 8, knowing I’d get seated randomly at a table for eight. Sometimes I got seated with people I didn’t get along with, but usually it worked out just fine.
That night it worked out better than fine. Phil, the maitre d’, brought me to a table that just were seated right before I got there. 2 married couples, one casual couple…and the new lady. I knew the other three couples to varying degrees and Julie, one of the married women, said “Jon, have you met Olivia yet?” She looked up and me and gave a killer smile, perfect white teeth and light color lipstick. Big, dark eyes that were sparkling. And she wore a satin dark green dress that was just perfect on her.
“Well, we’ve seen each other around, but we haven’t been introduced yet. Hello, I’m Jon Grossman.” I offered my hand and she took it, long fingers, very elegant.
“Hello. I’m Olivia Camarena. It’s nice to finally meet you.” Man, my heart skipped a beat or two. There was something in her touch as well as her smile. I sat next to her and from that moment on, we talked almost exclusively to each other, almost ignoring the others at our table. At least none of them seemed to mind.
We talked about our lives between courses. She was 68 but even with the silver hair, she looked ten years younger. She and her late husband, Tomas, owned an accountancy agency which she sold when he died from a heart attack six years before. Her parents were born in Mexico and moved to Virginia before she was born, and that’s where she grew up. She went to Penn on a scholarship and then did a graduate semester in Mexico City, where she met Tomas. They fell in love and he came to the states to be with her a year later. Like me and Eva, they had a very loving marriage, 37 years. They had two children, two daughters, Anita and Pillar, and she had three grandchildren, with one on the way.
Our stories came out during dinner and during a few turns on the dance floor. Olivia was a graceful dancer, smooth moves and very lithe. It felt great to hold a woman in my arms on the dance floor, to feel her body close and warm. It was a wonderful evening, the best I’d had in years.
I escorted Olivia home (after we apologized to the other diners for ignoring them most of the night). It was chilly and she walked close to me. It was a short walk to her building, about a five minute walk, and we talked a little more. When we got to her door, for the first time all evening I was feeling tongue tied. There was a part of me that wanted to ask her for a date and yet.. my last first date had been over 55 years before. I was out of practice to say the least.
She could tell I was trying to say it. “Jon, I had a lovely evening. Do you mind if I tell you something?”
“Of course not, Olivia. You can tell me whatever you want.”
“I was hoping to see you at dinner. I asked the matire d’, when we arrived, if you were there yet and when he told me no, I asked him to seat you at our table if you came.” Her smile was dazzling me.
“You knew my name? How did you know?”
“That day at the pool, the first time we saw each other. I noticed how you looked at me, appreciative but shy. Not dirty in any way. It was very sweet.” I blushed and she laughed lightly, not at me. “So I asked about you, a couple of the women I met later that afternoon. I think one was actually jealous.” Her eyes were sparkling with mischief.
“That’s an incredible compliment, Olivia. Maybe more than I deserve. But I would like to take you out this week if you’d like. Monday is Christmas. How about Wednesday night?”
“Wednesday would be fine, Jon. Thank you for such a lovely evening.” I gave her my phone and she entered her number so we could set a time after Christmas. I left without kissing her goodnight but I walked home feeling like I was floating.
When I got home, however, reality set in. On the credenza in the hallway by my front door were a bunch of framed photos that greeted me whenever I came in. Pictures of my children and their families, of my children and grandchildren individually. And of course, pictures of Eva, with me and a few by herself. Our wedding picture. Pictures of us on vacations and from when we worked together. The love of my life. I sat down heavily on the couch and cried. I moaned out loud “Oh God, what the hell am I doing!?”
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The next day, Sunday, I seriously thought about calling Olivia and apologizing, to tell her I couldn’t take her out. It was just too much. Then I remembered how much I enjoyed talking and dancing with her the night before, and I just didn’t know what to do. I made coffee and toast and grabbed a yogurt and sat down to have my breakfast and think things over. When I was halfway through, my phone rang. Cammy. Like she knew I needed her. My sister, my best friend and the most level headed person I knew. God bless her.
“Hey sis. I am really glad to hear from you this morning. Like you wouldn’t believe.”
“Oh? Are you ok, Jon? Something wrong?”
“Not wrong. But I had an experience last night… is there any chance you’re free this afternoon? I’d rather talk about it in person, if possible.”
“Sure. Come over after 1. We’ll have a little wine and cheese. Mind if Kyle is there?”
“Never. He’s family, Cammy.” I loved my brother-in-law, now married to Cammy for over 30 years. I hung up and felt a little better. If anyone could help me figure out the right thing to do, it was my smart and loving sister.
I got there on time and, after making small talk, catching me up on her daughter Anna and bringing her up to date on her nieces and nephews, I got to what was bothering me. I told her how I met Olivia and how we made plans for Wednesday night, and then I told her how seeing all those pics of Eva, from our wedding day to our 50th anniversary, made the whole idea of a date seem like a bad idea. “Cammy, I’m still in love with Eva. I think I always will be. I can’t imagine trying to feel anything like that for anyone else. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for this. Besides, I haven’t had a date in over 50 years.”