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“Oh!  I’m sorry.  I thought you were someone else…someone I’m supposed to meet here…” 

Henry kept talking…almost as though he couldn’t stop.  But I took another step.

I really couldn’t help myself…he sounded so puzzled…so flummoxed…so un-Henry like…that I had to laugh…

Yes.  Yes.  The laugh he had been listening to and apparently loving for the past few months…my very “unique” laugh…

His head snapped around and he started to reach for my arm.

Suddenly.  It was ‘the perfect storm’.

Three little boisterous boys came racing down the aisle after a visit to the bathroom in the back of the restaurant…

I quickly moved to get out of their way…but I was not quick enough as one of them bumped into me…

So…as Henry turned away from the table, reaching for my arm…my cane got caught on one of the spokes of the wheel chair that I did not even know he used!

I let out a cry as I started to fall…but Henry caught me and I ended up in his lap.

I looked at him and then down at his chair…

His laughing eyes looked quizzically into my surprised ones…

“I bet you didn’t expect this…did you?  Vietnam…second tour…Bouncing Betty…”

“By the way…where the hell were you going, Karla?“

I was almost…but not quite speechless…

“You see…when I first saw you sitting here and you watched me walk in…I saw your eyes start to narrow and you tilted your head…”

“I thought perhaps you were disappointed at what you saw…”  I started to falter at this point.  I was feeling quite stupid.

“Or…: Henry interrupted patiently.

“Or…maybe the sun was in my eyes as I was trying to clearly see as well as desperately hoping that this beautiful woman walking toward me would be the incomparable “Annabelle”…the one with the sexy laugh.”

“Oh…”  I said quietly.  “I guess…”  I had no snappy return for that.

Henry looked over my shoulder and motioned for me to turn around.

“We have an audience who appear to have almost stopped breathing…” Henry said.

When I turned and looked, there was a small group of diners who had gone suddenly quiet when I had cried out as I had fallen into Henry’s lap.

I turned back and grinned at him.

“So…what’s our encore?” I asked.

And then he kissed me…on a brilliant fall afternoon in the Canal Park Cafe overlooking Lake Superior…

And everyone clapped.  Because…who doesn’t love a happy ending.

The End

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I could see through the restaurant’s floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked Lake Superior that Henry had picked a table toward the back of the restaurant.

He had no idea what I looked like but of course I could recognize him.

I had seen countless ads in the local Rocky Point newspaper promoting his show.

He sported a shock of blonde hair and even though we had what seemed like about a month of summer in Rocky Point…he looked like he had just finished a 3-week vacation in the Cayman Islands. 

God, he was really good-looking.  He looked even better in person.  I suddenly felt very nervous.

I was glad I had put blonde streaks in my shoulder-length, brown hair and had taken advantage of the past two sunny days to extend my tan.  I knew I looked pretty damn good for an “older” woman…maybe a little on the thin side…but I was working on that.

This was like a date…right?  Oh hell…am I too old for this?

I hadn’t been to this restaurant before but I had visited here yesterday…to get the “lay of the land”.

I often did this when I was going to new places…to eliminate any surprises or potential parking problems.

As I entered the restaurant the hostess remembered me from yesterday’s visit.  She came over to me right away.

I told her I was meeting someone today and thanked her for her attention.

I started to walk towards Henry who was looking out the window.

As I got closer, he turned and saw me coming toward him…my trusty cane helping me along the way.  I stopped and took off my sunglasses.

My vision had improved in the last four months, so even though I still couldn’t read a book…I could see Henry’s face quite clearly.

I saw him tilt his head to the side…and I could see him knit his brow…ever so slightly.

It was not real obvious…but just enough for me to guess what he was thinking.

I had seen that look before.  It was that “Ohhh…” look.

As in…”Ohhh…she needs a cane to walk…I wonder what’s wrong with her?”

Was he wondering if I was Annabelle?

The sexy laugh he loved and the  conversations we had shared over the past few months probably did not match the woman he now saw or was expecting to see…walking in his direction.  

There was no doubt that I was definitely not what he had expected.  I’m sure he would have made the best of it…but I had been to that rodeo before…and did not plan to go again.

I continued to slowly walk down the aisle.  As I moved closer to him, I saw that he was smiling…but a little tentatively.

“Annabelle?”  he questioned.

I turned towards him and said, “Excuse me?”

“Oh…oh…” he said. “I don’t suppose your name is Annabelle by chance?”  Henry sounded unsure…how very odd. Henry never sounded unsure.

“My name is Karla.” I answered politely and continued to move on to the rear exit that I had discovered from my exploratory mission yesterday.

I would have been a perfect boy scout…had I been a boy.  I was always prepared.

 

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Of course…it wasn’t the program that was changing my life…it was Henry.

He was charming.  He was interesting.  He was comforting.  He was funny.  He could be outrageous.

I soon realized that I was really looking forward to calling in and talking with him…more each time.

Sometimes I purposely stayed awake for the whole show…until I heard the familiar strains of “In the Still of the Night” playing  in the background at the end.

I didn’t call in a lot…although there were some who did.  Some of Henry’s listeners called every night and Henry always talked to them.

It was as if he knew they were lonely…and just needed to say “hello”…

But… more importantly…I think Henry knew they just needed for him to say “hello” back.  And he did.  He always did.

One night…after a few months of occasionally calling in and talking with Henry…he asked me to stay on the line when he went to commercial break after my call.

What was this all about? I actually sat up in bed and glanced over at my dresser mirror to see how I looked…which was pretty crazy.  This was radio! 

It turned out that Henry had heard about an art and antique show this weekend in the Canal Park area by Lake Superior.

“It sounds like it might be interesting…” he had said.  I had learned that Henry liked antiques and that he collected antique Christmas ornaments.

“Would you be interested in going on Saturday?  We could meet at the Canal Park Cafe around noon, have lunch first and then just browse around.  My treat…of course,” he said.

And then he chuckled…and I wondered for a moment if he was just joking around…but then he quickly continued…

“Of course, if you want to pay for yourself…you surely can…”  Then he laughed again.  “You know…if you want or feel the need…you can pay for me too!”

Earlier that week he’d had a controversial author on his show.  She had written a new book about how women actually “enjoy” paying their way when going on dates with men. Some even feel insulted when men offered to pay for them.  

It had been a heated discussion with many listeners participating.  I had chosen not to call in that night.

“Yes.” I said…probably too quickly.  My pulse was racing.  What was going on?

I think I surprised Henry with my speedy reply.

“Oh!  Well…good then.  That’s great!  I’ll see you Saturday…at high noon!”

Then he paused and said more softly…

“I’m looking forward to meeting you…Annabelle from Rocky Point.”

I apparently had forgotten everything and anything I may have learned about social niceties…for all I managed to say once again was…

“Yes.”

 

 

 

 

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Time moves on…imagine a wavy screen that in movies and television often signal a time change…now journey ahead about 40 years…

Last year…after a four-hour session in the dental chair…I had a small stroke and a few months after that…I had a massive seizure…

This nonsense was followed by the not completely unexpected exit of Chuck,  a rather dull and narcissistic husband who couldn’t quite see his way to dealing with either…not that there was much for him to do…or not do.  I have always been rather self-sufficient.

But still…one does expect something during times like these.  Apparently “in sickness and in health” was a marriage vow to which he hadn’t paid much attention.

It is relevant here to also mention the tennis lessons Chuck had started taking a few months  before my stroke.  It is incredibly amusing that I had never known…after all these years of marriage…that Chuck was interested in learning how to play tennis…but apparently it was a “life-long” dream of his.

Enter Sally Merriweather…young, blonde and sporting a cute little pony-tail…was the new tennis instructor at North Shore Country Club.

This is the same club that Chuck had insisted we join a few years ago.  “I need the contacts I’ll make there for my job!” he had explained.  Chuck worked for Lake Superior Luxury Autos in Duluth…so I guess he had a point.

I wasn’t much into the “country club” scene…but I did enjoy the reciprocal play that allowed us to play other private golf courses in the state.  Chuck and I used to play together a lot…until I started beating him on a regular basis.   He soon decided he didn’t have that much free time anymore to spend on a golf course.

Apparently “playing tennis” was not such a time-consuming sport…whatever.

Now enter Rollie Moore, my devoted, long-time friend and brilliant lawyer, who had amazingly secured for me a financial settlement that ensured me more than half of our assets, a hefty monthly alimony check (which I didn’t really need, but which seemed appropriate nonetheless).

He also secured a clear deed to our home and also the luxury cabin further up the Gunflint Trail in northern Minnesota…both of which I had inherited from my parents…so that was essentially fair.

In a foolish hurry to move on with his ‘new and exciting life’…ding-bat husband Chuck quickly signed the divorce papers…dreaming only of the freedom and joys of a single life.

Remember Sally…the tennis instructor?  She was gone in less than four month…along with the keys and the title to a brand-new Mercedes Benz and several very glitzy and expensive jewelry items…all courtesy of the love-struck Chuck.

I had heard from Nancy, the owner of  “The Sweet Shop”…the best bakery you will ever walk into and the penultimate source for the latest gossip in Rocky Point… that Sally’s  “diamond tennis bracelet” was truly “blinding”.

Karma can be such a bitch…

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Annabelle

Just like Henry…I was also seventeen back in 1960…but for me there were no sandy beaches in my hometown of Rocky Point, Minnesota.  (Yes…the same one…)

Nor were there any  beachy-sand volleyball games in the summer sun.

If my friends and I had foolishly tried to surf the great waves of Lake Superior…the lake that defined our little town…we probably would have been cut to shreds by the huge, craggy boulders that hugged its shore.

But it didn’t really matter.  I didn’t need to have a golden tan to accentuate a beautiful  prom dress I had not needed to buy for my senior prom because…

On my prom night the year I was seventeen…I sadly had  no date.

Instead, I was at home in my parent’s massive Colonial that sat on a precipice overlooking the magnificent Lake Superior.

The back of our property ended in a sharp drop-off…maybe a hundred feet.   Every time I walked over and looked down…I got dizzy…and was glad there was a fence onto which I could hold.

My dad had built the fence years ago to keep my brother and me and all our friends from soaring over the edge as we raced around the yard playing whatever games kids played that involved “racing around while not thinking.”

I vaguely remember my parents having heated discussions about what kind of fence was needed to keep her beloved children from imminent death.

My mom wanted something similar to the impressive walls that surrounded Alcatraz prison…but she was willing to take a pass on the ‘gun towers’.

My dad was looking for something a little less intense and one that didn’t block the impressive lake view.

They compromised on a green chain-link fence with little spiky wires on top.  Perhaps it was a little over-kill with the wires but nonetheless… no I knew died in my backyard..

So there I sat…dressed in my favorite flannel pajamas because May in northern Minnesota is always chilly.

I was looking out the huge bay windows from our 4-season porch but the dense fog kept me from seeing further than a few feet.  This was typical Rocky Point weather and I loved it.

I was waving my hands in the air so my newly purchased nail polish, “Pink Lady”, could dry.

I was also listening to my favorite song “In the Still of the Night”…and trying desperately…yet failing…to be not too miserable.

 

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More Henry…

Henry’s inheritance and previous wise investments, now afforded him the freedom to travel down whatever paths he chose.

He had no family.  Neither of his parents had brothers or sisters.  And Henry’s grandparents had long since departed from this world.

Five years ago, he and his wife had parted on friendly terms after twelve years of a pleasant marriage. Even though Henry had wanted children…that never seemed to happen.  So now, any decisions were his and his alone.

He bought the rental cabin he had been living in and spent several months trying to be that “DIY” guy he always thought he could be…if ever there was an opportunity and he had the time. He had always lived in apartments in California.

However…after several costly plumbing mishaps and a small electrical fire that Henry quickly controlled…he soon found himself reaching out for professional help.

It was then he decided to become the next Ernest Hemingway but when his stories were either swiftly rejected or simply ignored by literally everyone, he abandoned that idea.

Apparently, Henry’s stories were not as captivating in print as they had been when he, himself, was recounting them on the radio.

So…when the small radio station in Rocky Point had an opening for a late-night host…Henry applied for the job.  He figured this would be a slam dunk…Henry was always very positive.  However, this time he figured wrong.

Even though he had a killer resume and a voice that melted butter…he was politely and very nicely told that they thought he was just a little too old for the job.

(Of course, that is not exactly what the owner had said…but that is exactly what the owner had meant.)

That didn’t stop Henry. He knew what he wanted and he wanted to be back on the radio air waves again…in Rocky Point.

Henry bought the little radio station with an offer the owner could not refuse.

(He also could not refuse nor could he afford a possible age-discrimination lawsuit either.)

Soon…Henry’s self-effacing charm and wit grew a devoted following.

As he had hoped, there was again an eager audience for his stories and observations on life..

Everyone loved Henry…except perhaps the owners of the bigger Duluth radio stations.

Because of the way the radio towers were placed, Henry’s melodic voice was reaching a lot of late-night Duluth listeners…and they began to follow him regularly.

The residents of Rocky Point soon treated him like he had lived there forever and that was just fine with Henry…he felt the same way.

He and Cisco couldn’t have been happier…and he hadn’t even met Annabelle…yet.