“Richard, come look at this.” I called to him in his study. I was holding a glass paperweight that I wanted to
show him.
“Not now, Emily. I’m busy. On the phone!” he called back.
I sighed and retreated to the sitting room and placed the beautiful paperweight on the table. My husband
never paid any attention to me anymore. He was so wrapped up as Vice President of his company- that- that it seemed
he didn’t love me anymore.
Rory came over for dinner the next night. She’s such a dear. While Lorelai and Richard were discussing something
obviously not very intelligent, I took her to the family room to look at the pictures and photo albums, like she requested.
She carefully selected a book marked, “Emily: 1968.” When I was still in college and still “Em”, the “Little
Watkins” wherever I went.
“What’s this Grandma?”
“Oh just some college pictures.” I wanted to take it from her, but she was already thumbing enthusiastically
through the book.
“Who’s that?” she asked shyly.
I blushed. It was Wilson, the boy I dated my first two years in college.
“Just a friend, Rory.” I said hastily.
“Why’s his arm around you Grandma? And why isn’t Grandpa there?” she pressed.
“Because I dated him.” I admitted.
“Oooohh Grandma! That is so cool!”
I shrugged, looking at my watch. “We ought to head to the dining room. Dinner will be served soon.”
“Want to avoid the subject?” she asked slyly.
“Maybe.”
“You have to call him.” she said, handing me the phone.
“Oh Rory, I couldn’t possibly do that.”
“Yes you can. Just say hi.”
“But I don’t know his phone number.”
“Yes you do.”
“No I don’t.”
“It’s right there, Grandma.” She said, pointing to a piece of paper stuck to the bottom of the picture. He had
called me last year but I had ignored him.
“You really think I should?”
“Yes.”
“All right. Tomorrow.”
“GRANDMA!”
“Well I can’t tonight! I would never stop talking!”
Rory stood up, satisfied.
“Hello?” A male voice asked.
“Wilson?” I breathed.
“Hello? Yes this is Wilson. Who is this?”
“Wilson?” I asked again.
“Emily?”
In the next hour (approximately 5 seconds in phone time), I learned he had been married, but was now divorced.
He was making a very stable financial living, and was quite lonely. When he asked about my life, I hesistated.
“Still married to Richard.”
“Yes.” I said softly. “But I regret it, Wil.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.” I repeated.
A dark-haired, handsome, tall, familiar-looking man, walked up to the counter of Reed’s and ordered a
double-latte mixed with dark coffee with 3 cups of milk, 4 teaspoons of sugar, and a lot of cream.
“Sorry sir, we don’t do that combination.”
The man took out a $20 bill and laid it on the counter. “Now you do.”
The boy at the counter picked it up and hastened to make the coffee.
“Is that how you accomplish things?” I asked him, amused.
“Yeah. Money’s everything.” He wasn’t looking at me.”I can’t find my credit card.”
Suddenly, it struck me. How could I not remember….
“Double latte mixed with dark coffee with 3 cups of milk, 4 teaspoons of sugar, and as much cream as you can spare.”
Wilson said, smacking down a $10 bill.
That was when we bailed from a night seminar.
“Double-latte mixed with dark coffee with 3 cups of milk, 4 teaspoons of sugar, and a lot of cream.”
That was our first date.
“Double-latte mixed with dark coffee with 3 cups of milk and 4 teaspoons of sugar.”
I had teased him about the cream. He had looked at me with horror.” I forgot the cream!”
It was Wilson. But he didn’t recognize me.
Look up, Wil, look up!
But he was searching his pocket for his credit card.
Look at me, Wil!
“Here’s your coffee, sir.” the boy said. “Would you like a refill, ma’am?”
I was drinking tea in a coffee house.
Wilson looked over at my cup and then at me.
“Em! Little Watkins!”
“Cherie!”
The boy at the counter looked at us like we were crazy. Sixty-year old people acting like they were 18 again.
“Its so great to see you.”
“I’m so glad we can just pick up our friendship.” I commented truthfully.
“Friendship?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s all you want? From me?”
“What were you thinking of?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well I am married, Wil.” I told him again.
“But the fire’s gone out of your marriage, hasn’t it?”
I glanced at his hand, which was now on top of mine.
He noticed, and withdrew. Sipping his coffee, he asked a less pressuring question.
“How’s Lorelai?”
“I’m a grandmother.”
“Took her long enough to have a baby.” he stated.” What’s she, 33?”
He didn’t know that Lorelai got pregnant. At age 16.
“32.”
“Close enough.”
“She’s got a magnificent daughter. Goes to Chilton.”
He sputtered, and I saw the coffee miraculously make it down his throat.
“Chilton? As in Chilton Prep?”
I nodded, amused at his surprise.
“But-but- its a high school!”
“And my only granddaughter is 16!” I said back.
“16?”
“Yes.”
“Then Lorelai-”
“Had a baby out of wedlock with Christopher, her boyfriend.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.”
“So you maybe want to go somewhere to talk?”
“Like where?”
“Well, I’m staying at the Hartford Hilton. We can go to my room.”
“I don’t know…”
“How much time do you have?”
“Two hours.” I answered promptly.
“Let’s go, then.”
“To your room?”
He saw the doubt in my face. “We can sit in the dining room. The food’s fabulous.”
“Nothing less for the Hilton.”
“Hm.”
“How long are you staying in town?” I asked him as we got into his beautiful Mercedes.
“Two weeks.”
“Then you should have dinner with us on Friday. Meet Lorelai and Lorelai.”
“Huh?”
“Well, Lorelai and Rory.”
“Yeah.”
“And my husband.”
“What?”
“You should meet my husband.”