A Park Bench

  A Park Bench

The splashing and delighted squeals of children came from the pool a few hundred yards away and I hoped it wouldn’t intrude on my conversation. I glanced around again, she was running late and that wasn’t like her, always prompt to the second. I smiled at the memory of her meeting me outside the restaurant on our first date, she’d shown me her watch that read 6:59, and our date was for 7:00. We’d laughed and gone in to eat, that was three years ago now and she’d never failed to be on time since. She’d related that it was a rule of polite society not to keep people waiting, and after meeting her parents months later, I saw where she got many of her views.

After pacing along the path with no sign of her, I sat on a nearby bench. Five minutes and a cell phone game of solitaire passed before I heard her calling my name.

“Brent, Brent, where are you?” I stood so she could see me over the low hedgerow that encircled the peacock enclosure. The birds had been quiet since I’d arrived, almost like they knew something big was happening and wanted to listen in. I waved a hand over my head as an extra gesture and saw her spot, then jog towards me. I couldn’t help but smile as I noted the familiar workday ponytail.

We embraced quickly when she reached me, I could feel her heart thumping and was strangely gratified to realize she’d been running for some distance. It meant that she realized she’d be late and tried to make up the time. I rubbed her back and then held her from me to look into her hazel eyes.

“What happened to my always-on-time angel?” I inquired. She tilted her head but didn’t answer verbally. We’d never been in this park before so the sounds coming from the pool and the nearby hens were unfamiliar to her. She brushed the surface of the bench with a crumpled napkin and perched on the edge. Shielding her eyes from the sun she peered up at me.

“Why don’t you sit down? I can’t converse with a sore neck.” I nodded and sat, but my stomach was starting to relay uneasy messages to my brain. She’d just thrown out an odd statement for her and had no idea. Jillian, at twenty-five still used the lexicon of a younger woman, she would say things like chat, or yammer when referring to a conversation, and the fact that she used converse couldn’t help but resonate.

“So, why meet here? It’s like a mile from my office, didn’t you realize? It’s kind of selfish of you Brent, making me come all the way here, what’s so important anyway?”

Jillian had been a secretary at the law firm for two years now and was feeling much more established. The first twelve months were harder to adapt to than she’d imagined, many evenings had been spent listening to her frustrations. The inequities in our relationship had been pointed out by friends, and it’s not like I hadn’t seen them but I’d come to terms with it, I had to if I wanted to make it work. I took a deep breath and went down on one knee while she had her back turned.

When she’d shifted back to hear my answer her eyes widened as they took in what I held in my left hand.

“Jillian” I began, but she held up four slim-fingers to stop me. Her eyes had started to fill with tears and since I hadn’t even asked the actual question, the crying wasn’t a happy yes.

I closed my hand over the box again, swallowed and looked into her lightly freckled face.

“Jillian, what’s the matter? Why are you crying, I mean is marriage to me enough to make you cry? I thought you loved me.” I was trying to lighten the mood, but seeing her face take in my words was enough to shove the box into my pocket. This wasn’t the time or place for a proposal, I could see that now. What I couldn’t know was the reaction and its reason. It meant sitting and waiting out her misery until she’d pulled herself together enough for an answer.  

I leaned back on the bench, my back feeling every sliver of wood through a blue summer-weight jacket. I’d dressed up for the proposal and felt more incongruous than ever. My usual workday attire as a copywriter was decidedly more casual, especially as I worked from my condo three days out of five. I could hear sniffing and knew from experience she was trying to rein in her tears. She was an emotional wee baggage as my Scottish grandma noted in an aside to me the previous Christmas. I couldn’t remember what the issue was specifically but Jillian had fled from a family dinner in tears. I apologized, blaming fatigue and ignored the looks of bafflement on the faces around the table.

“Brent? I’m sorry that I’ve upset you, I seriously didn’t anticipate a proposal, it threw me for a loop. My mind is so full of work and worries I can’t see outside my peripheries.”

I sat mutely. The implication might as well have been written across the summer sky, she didn’t even see me, her boyfriend of three years, within her ‘boundaries’. I didn’t know what to say, were we over? I exhaled and turned towards her.

“I guess I thought we had something special, that after three years we were on the same page about our future. Lately, you’re at work all the time, when you are home your mind is often elsewhere. I have to know Jill, are you seeing someone else or do we have a future? I can put this ring in a box somewhere and when you’re ready I’ll ask again. If not, I’ll return it to the store and help you find a different place to live.”

I sat back again, staring at the nearby blades of grass, trying desperately not to join her in tears.

“There are lots of things on my mind” She started to talk, to excuse herself, but I couldn’t bear to hear it all again.

“It’s pretty obvious that I’m not one of them” I interjected.

“I was trying to say, that there are some distractions that make it hard to say what you want me to, Brent, I can’t say it, I can’t say yes to marriage.” She stood and turned, facing the pool again.

“You didn’t answer my question Jill, Is there someone else? Am I just fooling myself or being made a fool of? The least you can do after all this time is to be honest with me.”

“There’s someone, I suppose I haven’t acknowledged it. I met him at work. You’ve met him but it’s nothing concrete at this point, and well I don’t want to name him until I’m sure. I didn’t plan it, you have to believe me.”

I began to imagine that I was in some second-rate movie with predictable dialogue. ‘You have to believe me’ I scoffed internally. She was starting to sound like some dame in a Bogie film.

She put her hand on my sleeve and squeezed until I looked down into the same greenish tip-tilted eyes I had loved for three years. I pat her hand then lifted it off my arm. In as smooth a voice as I could muster, I told her that she’d have the weekend to pack up her things.

“I’ll be spending the weekend with Alex, you can move your stuff out uninterrupted that way.”

“Where am I supposed to go with such short notice.” She stammered, realizing how quickly her tidy little life was about to change.

“I don’t know Jill, I just know I can’t see you or your stuff around the place knowing there’s somewhere you’d rather be, someone you’d rather be with. It isn’t fair. Call a friend or stay with your folks for a bit. I can’t believe the way this day has turned out.” I almost whispered the last bit. I turned away from her and followed the asphalt path toward the car park. I couldn’t know it then but five months later Jill did manage to ‘say yes’. I’d heard through the network of friends we shared that she’d agreed to marry that same fellow at the office.

The following Monday., I returned to my condo and noticed immediately how bare the place looked without female garments stuff strewn about, even the medicine cabinet and fridge both looked lopsided since her side was empty in each.

 I started dating a bit after six months and had met some lovely women, none of whom were ever on time, but that didn’t seem as important as it used to somehow. That conversation on the park bench taught me a lot about the flowing line between one person's expectations and beliefs and those around them.