summer love

Could she be waving at me? There’s no way! She’s out of my league. Or so I thought. I was sitting on my orange ground sheet on the very green grass in a park in Oxford, England. It was July and I was on my first trip to Europe. To my surprise, I found a Jewish delicatessen near the college. It had the best pastrami I had tasted in years, and I decided to purchase a sandwich and picnic at the park, Munching on the gargantuan sandwich and engrossed in a Dickens novel, I only looked up when the buzz of touring students caught my attention. As they passed by, I noticed a blonde woman waving several yards away, I looked around to find whose attention she was seeking. No one was anywhere in her field of vision except for me. Could it be? Naa. As she got closer, I was mesmerized by her beauty and smile. I smiled back but it was wishful thinking. It had been a month since I had a meaningful conversation with anyone especially a woman. I was lonely but I had chosen to travel alone.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

I was shocked and tongue tied. Was she really talking to me? There was no one else in sight. I swallowed my last bite of the sandwich, wiped my face with a napkin and stuttered.

“Shsh-ure. There’s plenty of room. Can I offer you a pickle.” What a dufus! You couldn’t think of a better line. She was even more beautiful up close. Her green eyes were dazzling. She wore red shorts and a white halter top. I was smitten. Was she a student or a tourist? In any case anyone on Oxford campus had to have a brain.

“No thanks I just had lunch. By the way. May name is Patti.” She said in a Midwestern American accent as she sat next to me.

“I’m Josh. You must be American.”

“How can you tell?”

“Your accent is a giveaway. Student or tourist?”

“I’m taking a summer semester here. It’s part of my PHD program at Harvard.”

“That’s not an east coast accent.”

She laughed. “I guess it takes time to shed my Minnesota roots. Where are you from? Let me guess- Canada?”

“Wow, you are perceptive. I didn’t think I had any kind of accent. I haven’t even said eh once.”

“You’re right, you don’t have a distinctive accent. The Canadian flag on your backpack was a clue.”

 Of course!! My pack was never too far from me. It lay next to me within grabbing distance. I had already had some theft attempts during my travels and had become slightly paranoid.

“So, what are you studying?”

“Medieval history. What better place? I have just been invited to complete my degree here. I have a major decision to make. What about you? What’s your story?”

“I’m on summer break from the football season.”

“Participant or fan?”

“I play for the New York Giants.”

“So, you’re a professional football player in the NFL? Why the Canadian flag?”

“I’m originally from Vancouver but I had a football scholarship at Rudgers and got drafted by the Giants. I figured the Canadian flag would make travel easier. Everyone loves Canadians. Besides, travelling in the British Commonwealth, I’d be accepted as a long-time member.”

“I noticed that you’re reading David Copperfield. Isn’t that heavy reading for a jock.”

I smiled, I was always stereotyped. “I spent five years at Rutgers and earned a master’s degree in English literature.”

“Ah, an educated jock. Your trash talking on the field must be very interesting and intellectual.”

I laughed. “You’d be surprised how many football players are well read. Trash talking has become an art. I’ve used lines from Dylan Thomas and Hemingway and to my surprise, had repartees from Shakespeare. Stay away from stereotypes.”

Patti smiled. “God forbid! Remember I’m just a ditzy blonde!”

“Yes, you are until proven otherwise. Keep talking.”

“I used to watch Tom Brady and the New England Patriots a lot. Although your calf muscles are extraordinary and your sleeveless tee-shirt shows off your biceps, you seem pretty small for a professional football player.”

“Do I have to show you my union card? I’m a kicker. Occasionally, I get to play linebacker on the practice squad. I bulk up during the winter.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry I questioned you. I never know how to separate fact from fiction when I first meet a guy.”

“I’m sure you’ve got many suitors. Remember, I did not proposition you. You asked to join me. Should I be asking you for your student card?”

It was getting a little testy and I was becoming uncomfortable.

Patti laughed and waved her hand. “No, no, I’m sorry if I offended you. You’re the first guy I’ve approached like this. I just broke off a two-year engagement and I’m a little raw.”

“No offence taken. Sorry to hear about your breakup. Was it someone here or at home.”

“He’s a medical student at Harvard and was not pleased that I chose to come here for the summer. When I told him I was considering staying to complete my degree, he dumped me. It’s probably for the best since I may be here for another year or two. Besides, we had other problems. I think he wanted me to become a conventional housewife. He’s from an upper crust New England family.  All the women are kept China dolls. That’s not me. What about you? Do you have a girlfriend, boyfriend or wife?”

I was lying on my side, leaning on my elbow and smiled ironically. “I’m going through a divorce. My wife did not like my lifestyle as a player with all the travel. So, she decided to drown her sorrows in the arms of my best friend. I lost a friend and a wife. This trip is my antidote to anger and sadness. So, I guess I’m sort of raw as well. I can relate.”

“I’m sorry. Were there kids involved?”

“Fortunately, no. We met on campus and got married just before I got drafted. She insisted she didn’t want kids until I retired and could be a full -time Dad. I think she wanted me to be a house dad while she pursued her career as a doctor. I financed her four years in medical school. She’s going to be a surgeon. I guess partners in the medical profession were not a good match for either of us.”

Patti smiled. Her eyes shone like emeralds in the sunshine. I noticed her dimples for the first time. It had been a long time since I had been with a woman. I felt awkward. Maybe I was just a dumb jock.

“So, what else do you read?”

“I know this is going to sound like I’m sucking up to you, but I love medieval historical fiction. C.J. Sansom and Hillary Mantel are two of my favorite authors. I’ve read most of their books. Unfortunately, both of them died recently.”

“Wow, you are the real deal. Believe it or not, they inspired me to pursue my studies in medieval history. Not to one up you but I am a big football fan and was on the woman’s flag football team at Harvard.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. She sounded like the perfect woman for me. The attraction was undeniable, from my perspective at least. I wondered if she felt the same. Was it fate that or serendipity that brought us together? I was getting carried away, but I had to say something.

“So, what’s your schedule like for the next several days?” Was I coming on too strong?

“As a matter of fact, I have a four-day break. What do you have in mind?”

I hesitated before answering. This was too easy. I had been burned before. Could she actually share my attraction or was I being set up? My ongoing divorce made me paranoid. Teammates had told me stories of gold diggers bilking them. I didn’t know how to verify her sincerity without offending her. She sounded genuine. I guess I could have quizzed her about medieval history. My knowledge was sparse and besides, it would have been too obvious. Oh, what the hell, I decided I might as well go for it but have a low threshold for bailing.

“I’m leaving tomorrow for Stratford and intend to see two or three plays over the weekend. Interested?”

Patti hesitated for a few seconds. I figured I blew it, but she surprised me.

“You know I don’t even know your name but somehow, I trust you. I’d love to join you but under the following conditions. I pay my way and separate rooms.”

Boy, if she was a con artist, she was really good. I felt reassured.

“Done! I’ll meet you at the train station at 8 am. I’ll reserve two rooms at the Railway Tavern Hotel. It’s very affordable. We can look at the play schedule and availability when we get to Stratford. Attending Shakespeare with a medieval scholar should be interesting. By the way, my name is Robby”

Patti smiled as she rose and said: “Glad to meet you, Robby. I’d better get going. If I’m leaving tomorrow for Stratford, there are a few loose ends I need to attend to.”

I wondered if I’d ever see her again.

***

It was seven-fifty and no sign of Patti. I wondered if I should buy an extra train ticket. A promise was a promise, so no. The train for Stratford was leaving at eight-twenty and I was taking it whether she showed or not. My divorce had made me a skeptic. I figured she wouldn’t show. She had been playing with me. My doubt was building with every minute until she appeared with a large red backpack. The big clock in the train station chimed eight times. Wow! I couldn’t believe it. She was even more beautiful than I remembered. She wore her hair loose. The tight pair of blue jeans and ruffled white blouse drove me nuts. I still couldn’t believe that this wasn’t a dream or a scam. I just had to be cool and cautious. Easier said than done!

“Hi, you made it.” I motioned for her to sit beside me on the bench outside the terminal. I noticed she had a ticket in her hand.

“My roommate has a car and drove me here. I bought a ticket with my student pass. If you haven’t bought yours yet, I’d be happy to use my student pass to get you a cheaper price.”

I laughed. “Thanks, I’ve already bought mine besides I make a good living as a football player.”

“That’s right, I forgot, you’re a rich spoiled jock.” She smiled impishly and punched me softly in my arm.

 I was smitten! The train arrived and we hopped on and took our seats. During the hour and half, we shared stories of our childhood, relationships, family and plans for the future. I wondered if we would have been so open if we lived in the same city. Somehow, it felt safe, but the connection was undeniable. Although I was raised in Vancouver Canada, we shared midwestern middle class values. Her parents were both teachers and mine were doctors. We both had two siblings and loved dogs.

When we arrived at Stratford, we took a taxi to the hotel and argued about who should pay the driver. She seemed to be creating boundaries. I liked it. At the hotel, we checked in and stored our bags until our rooms were ready. It was a short walk to the theater where we purchased tickets for two plays. I chose Henry V, in deference to her interests and she chose As You Like It. We then toured Anne Hathaway’s cottage and gardens, continuing our easy dialogue. I had found my soulmate. Corny term, I know but that’s how I felt.

We found a great fish and chips restaurant near our hotel and discovered that we both had a sweet tooth especially for ice cream. Our waitress directed us to a great gelato place nearby. Patti allowed me to treat her for the first time. We were making progress. By the time we returned to the hotel, we were exhausted. We retired to our separate rooms, and I took a shower. As I took my novel out of my backpack and climbed into bed in a pair of running shorts, there was a knock on my door. I rose and opened the door.  Patti stood in the doorway with a bottle of Port in her hand and two glasses. She wore the same red shorts and tank top as when I met her and smiled sheepishly.

“Do you fancy an aperitif monsieur?”

I smiled back at her. “It will top off a perfect day. Come in.”

We sat on the bed, sipped Port and talked late into the night. I think we were both tipsy. I could feel us creeping closer and closer until it happened! I looked into her eyes and drowned. I don’t know who made the first move, but we kissed and were naked in a matter of seconds. It had been six months since I had last been with a woman so our love making did not last long. I was embarrassed but made up for it early the next morning. It was tough to leave the bed and get ready for the afternoon performance, but we managed it. The next two days were some of the bests I’d ever experienced. Culture, fantastic lovemaking and heartfelt dialogues. When she left to return to Oxford I felt a void. We exchanged E-mail addresses, phone numbers and promised to stay in contact. I was travelling to Scotland and had a return flight home from Edinburgh in a week. Training camp started the following week.

***

 I E-mailed and texted her weekly. At first, the replies were prompt and warm. Then they became more infrequent and distant. I wondered if I had said something offensive or that turned her off. I tried calling her, but I kept getting her voice mail. It was obvious that she was no longer interested. I had to chalk it up to a summer fling. Still, it hurt.

The years passed, I retired from football and became a best-selling author. I was given the opportunity to give a reading at a book conference in Oxford. I accepted, knowing I had ulterior motives. It was unlikely that Patti was still at Oxford but maybe someone at the college would know what happened to her. I was newly single again after a few failed short-term relationships.

I was sitting on the stage during a panel discussion with two other authors. When the door to the auditorium opened and a woman with short blonde entered and took a seat in the front row. She held a copy of my latest novel in her hand. Even from my vantage point on the stage, it was hard to miss her emerald green eyes and dimples. I couldn’t wait until the panel discussion was over. It was the last week of August and my last chance for another summer fling or something better.