61. Wife
(Rosa's Story, Part 2A of 2)
"I had other regular customers that summer," Rosa continued, "but Karl and his colleagues soon became my favorites. They were a bunch of dedicated flirts and jokesters, but there was no real harm in any of them, and they always made up for ribbing me mercilessly by tipping very well. It would be too much to say we became friends, but I took a liking to them, and they to me, so it was a sad day when I had to announce I wouldn't be waiting on them any longer, as I was switching to the evening shift with the start of the school year. They were loud in their regrets, and swore up and down to stop in for dinner every now and then to see me, but none of them ever did. Except for Karl.
"I thought it odd that, of all of them, he was the one to turn up. He'd been the quiet one, never joining in the teasing, or putting himself forward in any way. I wasn't even convinced, at first, that his coming in every Tuesday night had anything to do with me. He'd recently moved out of his mother's house, he told me, and was reduced to eating out until he learned his way around a kitchen. Occasionally, he brought along a date, but mostly he dined alone. As he always sat in my section, I felt rather responsible for him, and tried, as much as my other duties allowed, to keep him company, myself, when he was on his own.
"I discovered, in the process, that I'd gotten entirely the wrong impression about him over the summer. I'd mistaken his reserve for detachment, and assumed from his silence that he was one of those people with little or nothing to say. One-on-one, though, he was actually very personable, with a calm, open manner that made him easy to approach and talk to. He was, by nature, thoughtful and deliberate, a man of few words, but those few were invariably well-chosen and insightful. As the autumn weeks passed by, I found myself lingering more and more at his table, and enjoying his quiet conversation quite as much as I'd ever enjoyed bantering with his would-be-charming colleagues.
"In appearance, he looked, then, very much as Rudolph does today, if slightly less tall and dark. I could appreciate, intellectually, that he was an attractive man, but, even so, it never occurred to me to think of him in romantic terms. An eight-year age gap may be of no great consequence, generally speaking, but when one is seventeen, twenty-five may as well have one foot in the grave. And then, it wasn't only that I was so much younger; I had no interest in boys my own age, either. With Maud's example always fresh before my eyes, I knew that boys were a luxury I couldn't afford. Though I didn't need telling, Maud herself drove the point home, informing me during what passed for our 'mother-daughter talk' about sex that I wasn't to look to her for help or sympathy if I were stupid enough to get myself 'knocked up.' I was careful to avoid temptation: I kept to myself at school, rode the bus to the restaurant immediately after, did my homework in the kitchen, worked my shift and went home to bed. That was my life, Monday through Friday, week in, week out."
Bonnie thought of her own high school years, of the carefree crowd she's run with, the teams she'd played on, the committees she'd chaired, the club meetings, dances, and sporting events that had filled her social calendar. And, always at her side, Trev. "I'm sorry, Rosa. You must have been so lonely."
"I wasn't friendless, chérie. I even had a family of sorts at the restaurant. It was common knowledge that I was something of a stray, so everyone from the chef-owner and his wife on down to the servers, bartenders and kitchen staff adopted me, each after his or her own fashion. I was the restaurant's 'kid,' and my older co-workers took it upon themselves to watch over, guide and support me. They were my 'village.'
"There was one especially kindhearted woman, a veteran waitress named Natalie, who saw the motherless chick in me, and generously took me under her wing. If not for her tipping me off, I'd've been taken completely unawares when Karl asked me out, and, again, if she hadn't urged me to give him a chance, I'd've run in the opposite direction. 'I know how you feel about dating,' she said, 'but it's past time you tested those waters, girl. Your fella's a good one: sweet, respectful, persistent. Heck, you could be letting the love of your life walk away and never know it, all because you won't give him a shot. He's earned one, I'd say.'
"Karl started small. One night when it was pouring down buckets, I made a joke about needing a bigger umbrella, and he picked up on that to ask how I was getting home, and if I could use a ride. My first impulse was to thank him kindly and protest I was all set, but as the alternative was the dismal prospect of waiting for the bus in the drenching rain, I thought better of refusing. Alone with him in his car, though, I was a bundle of nerves! I don't know what I expected — that he'd pounce on me, maybe! — but he kept a very proper distance, and made small talk about the weather and this-and-that. There was nothing at all lover-like about him, which was at once confusing and a relief.
"The next Tuesday, he arrived somewhat later than usual, and just happened to be finishing his meal when my shift ended. Again, he volunteered to drive me home, insisting it was on his way, no trouble. It was late October by then, and already full dark and cold by nine; I was still uneasy, but accepted. The whole short ride I was tense with waiting for him to make some kind of move, but again, he didn't. The Tuesday-after was the same, and the one after that. I couldn't make any sense of it, but Natalie explained that, out of consideration for my youth and inexperience, Karl was taking things extra slow, letting me dictate the pace, even if it meant proceeding by baby steps. 'He's that rare thing in this day and age,' she told me. 'A true gentleman.'
"When, around Thanksgiving, he asked me if I'd be interested in taking in a movie matinee, I didn't hesitate to say yes, and neither then, nor any time thereafter, did I ever have cause to regret accepting his invitations. We did the type of things together that didn't need to count as 'dates.' We'd meet for coffee to continue a conversation we'd started at the restaurant, or do some fun activity Karl found out I'd never tried, like bowling, or ice skating. The weekend before Christmas, we spent hours scouring bookstores, outlet malls and even thrift shops for the perfect gifts for the people on Karl's list. They were, apparently, an extremely finicky lot, as it took us forever to find anything remotely 'right' for most of them.
"What I liked best, though, was visiting the local galleries and museums. We shared a love of art, and were both of us artistic, though Karl didn't see himself that way. He considered himself a competent draftsman, no more, and, as his drawings were meant only to illustrate his design concepts, he didn't think of them as art. They were beautiful, though, all those humble razors, steam irons, and hair dryers. He drew them with the most meticulous attention to every detail and line. After we were married, I had some of them framed, and hung around the house, over his objections. 'It's just a teakettle,' he'd say, but it was as pleasing to my eye as any of the pen-and-ink drawings we saw for sale, and on the wall it stayed."
"With grandparents like you," Bonnie put in, "it's no wonder Danny's so talented."
"Do you know, I thought of Karl the moment I saw Danny's dinosaur picture. He's clearly inherited something of his grandfather's skill, and I couldn't be happier for it. He'd be so proud of that little boy."
There was a beat of silence, and then Rosa resumed, "All the while I was getting to know Karl, I was going through hell with Maud. She'd been unable to attract another boyfriend, and so, much against the grain, she'd had to go on working to put a roof over our heads. Money was always tight, and there were months she couldn't come up with the full rent, or buy groceries. At those times, since, unlike her, I was steadily employed, she'd insist I make up the shortfall, even if it meant turning over my whole paycheck. Once I turned sixteen, and began working full time, she found it increasingly hard to stick with a job, and took longer, each time she quit — or was fired — to line up another. Halfway through my senior year, she'd been, supposedly, looking for work for several months and would, I didn't doubt, continue to have no luck finding any as long as I was around to foot the bills.
"The lease on our apartment ran through the following July, but I was determined to stay only through mid-June, by which time I'd be eighteen and a legal adult. Impatient as I was to be free of Maud, I was dreading striking out on my own no less. I had it in my mind that I had to put as much distance between us as possible, but I didn't have anywhere particular to go. My grandparents had died, and my career-military uncles lived abroad. I'd met the older one, Bill, at my grandmother's funeral, and it was true he'd invited me to visit him in Germany any time. And I did, in fact, have sufficient funds for a one-way plane ticket. When my grandfather passed, my grandmother had pulled me aside, and written me a check against a savings account they'd opened for my benefit. It wasn't a large sum — ten years' worth of Christmas and birthday presents — but it was money Maud knew nothing about and so couldn't steal, unlike the cash I tried to squirrel away from her in my room. I guarded that secret stash jealously, holding it in reserve for the day I finally packed my bags and left. As for my uncle, while I fantasized sometimes about showing up on his doorstep loaded down with all my worldly goods, I never seriously considered following through. We were strangers to each other.
"There were people at school I could've sought out for guidance — teachers, counselors — but I'd been conditioned not to ask for help, and couldn't even bring myself to accept it when offered. I knew I should explore different options, do research, make plans, but there was so much to decide, and trying to tackle the problem made me so incredibly anxious, I avoided thinking about the future, constructively at least, much of the time. Weeks, then months, slipped by, and I was no closer to having a firm direction in the new year than I had in the old.
"Stressed out as I was, my head wasn't into romance at all, and, although spending time with Karl had become the highlight of my week, I still didn't think of him as my boyfriend, or of us as a couple. Karl sensed my preoccupation, but, ever tactful, said nothing about it for a long time. Finally, though, on an early spring day when I was particularly broody, he asked me to tell him what was wrong. 'Putting thoughts into words can sometimes clarify things,' he said. 'Maybe if you bring whatever's bothering you out into the open, you'll be able to see it in a new light.'
"I didn't want to tell him. I was ashamed for him to see the hopelessly inadequate girl behind the competent mask. But I'd been bearing up so long, and the pressure had grown so great, I couldn't hold back any more. I told him everything: the misery that was my home life, the absolute imperative to escape along with the paralysis that gripped me whenever I thought about setting out on my own. He listened intently, as he always did, never showing signs of impatience or judgment, and when I'd talked myself out, he took my hand, and said he was sorry for what I was going through, that none of it was my fault, that I deserved so much better. As for feeling scared about the future, that was perfectly normal, everyone went through it, everyone needed help coming out the other side. I wasn't to worry anymore, he'd help me figure it out, I didn't have to do it all alone. And just like that, I felt as if the weight of the world had dropped off my shoulders, and I could breathe again.
"We started in on the problem right then, talking in a general way about what I wanted, ideally, in a living arrangement, and from there, we brainstormed ideas of housing options that might suit. I'd been fixated on the near-impossibility of finding an affordable apartment to share, but Karl threw out a few more creative solutions, such as working for a time as a live-in nanny, or applying to live as an elder-companion at one of the intergenerational retirement homes sprouting up in the area. In the short term, he thought it was worth asking at the restaurant if anyone had a spare room they'd be willing to let for a few months, or if they knew of anyone who did.
"'There's one more option I can think of,' he said, less confidently this time. 'You could… marry me.'
"I was so shocked, I blurted out without thinking, 'I couldn't possibly!'
"He flinched, but went on evenly, 'You don't feel you could ever feel more than friendship for me?'
"That wasn't what I'd meant at all. 'I couldn't take advantage of you like that!' I told him. 'That'd make me as bad as Maud!'
"He shook his head. 'You could never be like her. Do you think Maud would ever once order the least expensive item on the menu, let alone every time? Would she ever object to anyone giving her presents, or paying her admission, or buying her the occasional souvenir? You know she wouldn't. I doubt she's ever reached for the check in her life.
"'Look,' he said, 'whatever you decide, I'll be here to support you any way I can — morally, financially, you name it. Marriage is on the table, that's all I'm saying. Think about it.'
"I did think about it, quite a bit, and the notion, at first so outlandish, grew irresistible over time. I don't know if you can understand, Bonnie, how disarming it is to be loved when you've never known much affection, how seductive it is to be taken care of when you've only ever been able to rely on yourself. Having lived my whole childhood with a monster of selfishness, how could I resist a man who couldn't do enough for me, and expected nothing in return?
"We'd been to Hagerstown to check out some sublets, and were driving back in a gentle April rain, when I told Karl I wasn't in love with him. 'I admire you,' I said, 'I respect you. I think you're maybe the finest person I've ever known. I care about you, and want what's best for you. I don't know if that's love, but it's what I can offer. Will it do?'
"He turned off onto the shoulder of the road, and put the car in park. 'Rosalie Finn, are you saying you'll marry me?'
"I was trembling so much, it was all I could do to nod 'yes.'
"I caught just a glimpse of the brightest smile I'd ever seen on his face before he gathered me to him in a fierce hug. 'Then, yes! It'll do very nicely," he said. 'Very nicely, indeed.'"