Integrity: Chapter 3
I didn’t think much about it again until about a week later. I was at the hardware store, getting a few items I need for work. I manage an apartment complex – do minor repairs, cleaning, call in specialists as needed. It doesn’t pay real well, but it’s good, honest work, the hours are flexible, and I always have a place to live rent-free. I don’t need much beyond the basics of food, clothing, and shelter. And my employers love that I never cheat them out of anything. Never. Not so much as a wire or a screw or a piece of paper – things some employers tolerate as a matter of course.
So I was there at the checkout counter, when a young lady, about my age, approached me. At first, I didn’t recognize her. “You’re the one at the park,” she said. “At the park, last week.”
As I said, I hadn’t given the incident a lot of thought until that point. It had been just one of life’s many episodes. “There were a lot of people at the park last week,” I said.
She smiled. The smile looked familiar, but I still did not understand. “The one who made the kids stop trashing the park,” she said.
Then I understood. She was one of the people who smiled at me as I returned to my friends. “I did not make them stop. I just told them my views, gave them a perspective, and they chose to stop, at my request.”
She was still smiling. It was a beautiful smile. “That’s what I admired about it,” she said. “I heard part of it. Most people wouldn’t have handled it so calmly.”
“Thank you,” I said, genuinely touched. It wasn’t just a beautiful smile. She was a lovely girl – long brown hair, startling green eyes that looked as if they had a dimension all their own. And maybe that influenced how I felt toward her. But a pretty girl doesn’t usually get to me without some substance, and, to this day, I think she was showing some substance here.
She smiled yet again (what a smile!) and then wrote on a slip of paper taken from her purse. “You’re welcome,” she said after she finished writing. She folded the slip of paper and handed it to me. “I’d like to talk about it some more,” she continued, “if you want to.” She smiled one more time. “Bye now!”
“Bye,” I said, and watched her turn to leave. Her tank top and shorts showed a golden tan that makes a man wonder how a suntan can possibly be unhealthy. My skin is as white as a sheet. But it was really difficult to say she’d made a bad choice. I unfolded the slip of paper. It said, “Cindi”, and had a phone number. Cindi, I thought. C-i-n-d-i. At least she didn’t dot her i’s with circles or hearts. And maybe her parents named her that.
Now, I’m not generally one to gush like that about one moment in my life – but this was a defining moment. It changed the direction of my life. It started me on the road to where I am now.
I am a cautious person, and I was back then, too. I held on to the slip of paper, wondering what she wanted. But, in the end, I saw no real trap. She may want more than just to talk, but that’s all she asked for, I thought, so she’ll need to accept it if that’s all she gets. And, while I was figuring that out, I could see her smile again.
So I called her, and we had dinner. We talked for a long time, and she smiled a lot. It turned out she was twenty years old, a couple of years younger than I was at the time, and was studying literature at the community college. She still lived with her parents. She was a nice girl. She even made a respectable effort to pay for dinner, at least her part, but was gracious in thanking me when my will prevailed.
I liked her. She lacked some direction, but I knew a lot of people her age (and older), who did, as well. It doesn’t make sense to make an uninformed decision just to have a decision made. She asked if I was “in a relationship” during dinner, but never pushed things further than that. For the most part, she kept to her word, and just talked. And so I thought that I would talk to her again.
At the end of the evening, she gave me a soft kiss on the cheek, and said, “You’re a real special guy, Tom.” It was a little forward, but harmless. And I have to admit it felt good. I may have even blushed a little. I wasn’t used to that sort of thing. I usually go by Thomas, but decided she could call me Tom. I do try to be flexible.
So I kept meeting with her, and I kept talking with her. And we came to like each other quite a lot. About two weeks after our dinner, she said, “Oh, why don’t you kiss me?” And so I did, lightly, softly, for about a second. But that was enough for me to know I’d do it again. It felt good, and it felt right. And so we made that transformation – not just meeting now, we had dates. Not just friends, we were in a relationship – “seeing each other.” It was a good thing.
It was generally she who had to move the relationship along. I couldn’t blame her. I am slow and cautious. She started to join me as I did some of my outdoor work. It was good to have someone to talk to. I read some of the books from her literature classes, and we talked about them. And so we became involved in each other’s lives. She became more and more important to me.
Our relationship was a light and easy thing, but with all the depth I could want. Then, a few months after our first dinner, she asked if she could stay the night. She didn’t look particularly tired, but I offered to drive her home anyway. “You’ll be more comfortable in your own bed,” I said.
“I don’t want my own bed tonight, she said, kissing me softly, so that I almost melted right there. “I want yours.” And she kissed me again.
Now, I know there are those out there who make sexual relations the goal of every evening when they go out. And I know there are many others that feel that a relationship just naturally should go there after enough time has passed. But that is a part of the current American view that I do not share.
“Cindi,” I said gently, “I’m not sure if you realize how much you’re asking of me. It’s a big step for me.”
“I know,” she said. “And I respect that, more than you can know. It’s so different from other guys I’ve known. But it feels so good to be with you, and I want to share…” and paused, before adding, “…more.”
“It’s a step I don’t see myself taking outside of marriage,” I said. “It’s a step I’ve never taken before.”
Her eyes widened a bit, but she recovered quickly, and said, “I see.” She gave me a long hug, kissed me again, and said, “You’re more special than I thought.”
And so I thought the matter was closed. She fell asleep sitting next to me that night, and I carried her to my bed, covered her up, kissed her forehead gently, and made a bed for myself on the couch. In the morning, she went home.
