Chap. 4 - Toughest Decision of Her LIfe

CHAPTER FOUR

The Toughest Decision of Her Life

         In light of that conversation with my father, Linda and I resolved to make the most of each day we had together. To help us get from one day to the next, we developed the routine of leaving the orchestra room together through that little alcove, and pausing there just long enough for a short, but very meaningful good-bye kiss. We were taking a chance because a school official spotting us might assume that we were up to much more than that. But it was a chance we had to take.
         The third Saturday in April had arrived. As usual, I was spending the afternoon at Linda’s. It was a challenge, a friendly one, between the two of us as to who was becoming the better shot. Not having played the game for at least a year by the time we’d met, I found myself at somewhat of a disadvantage, though I felt myself slowly improving with the repeated practice I was now getting.
         As Linda racked up the balls for our third encounter, I slowly stole up behind her and placed my hands on her shoulders. We had been, the last few minutes, discussing the dances at school. Gently pressing her shoulders with my hands, we knelt down beside the table. Somewhat nervously I spoke.
         “You are going to the Prom with me, aren’t you?” I asked, my eyes riveted to hers in fearful anticipation.
         “If you want me to,” she replied happily, yet unsure of herself.
         “Of course I do. I love you, remember?” I said, smiling. I was hoping to relieve the tension and anxiety that had appeared within her as she answered. Except for a little steady trace, something that just wouldn’t leave, my approach had worked. She smiled widely, kissed me happily and the game was on.
         The passage of time between that third Saturday in April and the Prom on Friday, May 20th seemed to take eons to become part of our past. That’s how eager we both seemed to be for that night to come.
         The week before the Prom, it was announced that the Junior Class play, this year a production of The Bad Seed, would be presented that Friday evening at 8:00 in the high school auditorium. After a short discussion, Linda and I decided to attend that performance, not only because she herself was a member of that class, but because it was a chance for the two of us to have time alone together on a new and different date.
         “I’ll even do the driving,” I quipped.          She lost her smile and looked at the floor for a moment, in silence. Then she seemed to perk up again. We shared our secret kiss there in that alcove, and headed for our lockers. As I walked I wondered what had disturbed her about my comment.

         That Thursday night Linda asked her dad if they could talk for a minute. His answer being affirmative, she slowly sat down beside him on the davenport. He had noticed the seriousness of her mood.
         “What’s wrong, honey?” he asked, concerned.
         “I can’t make up my mind about something,” she said evasively, still just a shade unsure whether she wanted to face the issue yet or not.
         “About what, Squeek?”
         “Whether to tell Jim… about… “ She let her voice trail off. She couldn’t bring herself to say it. She wished she didn’t have to face it with Jim. Ever. But she knew life didn’t work that way.
         “I’ve been wondering if you’d thought about that, and what you might do about it,” her father said gently, knowing full well what was on her mind.
         “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for something like this.” Then, a little wistfully, she continued, “I just thought I’d be sitting up in my room for the Prom and everything else this year just like I have for all the big school events the last two years. It’s just that we seem to mean so much to each other. And I don’t want to lose that. He’s the first one that’s ever cared about me this way. Only now I have to tell him; I have no choice. Prom night’s a long night and a lot of things can happen. But when? And how do I…?”
         “Sweetheart, there’s two ways to look at this where your happiness is concerned. Short term happiness, or the long term. If you don’t tell him, your relationship will go on building for the immediate future; but if he finds out from someone else, even accidentally, he may wonder why you didn’t trust him enough to tell him.”
         “Yeah, I know. But what I’m afraid of is that whenever he finds out, even if it is from me, that he’ll just walk away like everybody else has been doing ever since I can remember. Except family, I mean.”
         “I know, honey, but if it happens, you just start over again, that’s all.”
         “That’s what I mean, dad. I don’t know if I could do that, after what he’s meant to me. Up to now it’s just been casual neighborhood-style friendships. Losing those is one thing. But this is different.”
         “Look at the long term, Squeek. If you two get really serious about each other, he’s going to have to know sometime, isn’t he?”
         “Yes, I guess he is. I just don’t want to lose him, that’s all. And as far as telling him, I still have the problem of when, where, and how…” Her voice faltered as the tears began flowing freely.
         “Your mom and I both hope you will,” said dad, “but whether you actually do tell him or not is still your choice, Squeek; you know that. And if you do tell him, the “when”, “where” and “how” of it is also one you’ll have to decide for yourself, honey. Not just because you know him better than we do, but because you have to be ready yourself, inside, if you’re going to be able to do it.”
         “Right, dad. I think I’ll go on up to bed,” she said through heavy sobs. “The excitement of knowing he really cares and the pressure of having to decide about telling him are wearing me out; and I’ve still got a lot of heavy thinking to do and a decision to make.” She kissed him goodnight and turned toward the stairs.
         “Goodnight, honey. I love you, too,” he called as he heard her climbing the stairs. Silently, he was wondering what her decision would be. He found himself still hoping that she would tell Jim, but he also knew that it was a decision only she could make.

         The next night, with the play scheduled to begin at 8:00 P.M., I arrived at Linda’s about 7:30 so we had the best chance for good seats. Both of us being a little near-sighted, we preferred to sit just a few rows back from the stage. After saying goodbye to her parents, we eagerly started for the car, and an evening of utter delight.
         For some reason I couldn’t understand, we hardly talked at all as I drove to the school. Linda seemed as if she was off in another world.
         The play seemed to take her mind off whatever it was that had preoccupied her on the way, and I was glad to see that. She actually showed normal emotions as we watched another excellent performance by our Drama department. Mr. (Roger) Grooms, the drama teacher, certainly knows his craft. He always brings out the best in every performer. And tonight was no exception. Another feather in the cap of a man who, like Mr. Wilson, Mr. (Michael) Mannerino, Band Director, and Mr. (Richard) Wesp, Vocal Music Director had been on the Anderson High School Faculty since any of us could remember.[Ed. note: Earlier this year (2007), in The Forest Hills Journal, our community weekly newspaper, there was an obituary that caught Marilyn's eye, and she passed it to me that evening. Mr Grooms had passed away. But I, and all those who knew him, knew that he had continued the work he loved, both at the school, and in the community and the city, right to the end. That's just the kind of person he was. Loved by students, faculty, and the community. In the middle of at least two projects at the time of his death, he died doing what he loved most. Teaching drama, and giving back to his community. Rest in Peace, Mr Grooms. JAW 5/27/07].

         The play let out about 11:00 P.M. Linda being extra sensitive to cold temperatures, it was not unusual for me to find myself huddling her quivering body to mine in an effort to ease her suffering. At last we reached the car and I closed the door after her.
         As I drove, we spoke of the play and how great it had all been. How wonderful the evening itself had been. We talked only slightly of the Prom, now only one short week away.
         Within minutes, the heater had rid Linda of those chills completely. But something was wrong… terribly wrong. For the entire time we’d been driving, she was leaning forward, staring blankly, almost hypnotically at the floorboard, slowly wringing her hands. And throughout the entire length of our conversation her responses were short, polite, almost always in an unemotional monotone, as if she was a robot and her words had been prerecorded and were being selectively played back in response to my statements. And that chill had left her body long ago; but her voice was still quivering worse that I’d ever heard it before, no matter how cold she had ever been. The whole thing seemed as though she was filled with some unseen Terror. I didn’t speak for several minutes; I was desperately searching for what I should do next. Then SHE spoke; that Terror present in every sound her quivering lips uttered.
         “Jim… there’s… something… I think you should know… before Friday night,” she stammered, not taking her eyes from the floorboard until she had finished. She stopped wringing her hands and laid her head back against the seat.
         “What is it, Lin?” I asked, the fleeting thought coming to mind that she might not be able to go after all. Swell. Back to the hand wringing again. She had looked over at me after she said that single sentence; but when I looked over at her in return and asked that question, her gaze reverted instantly to the floorboard and the hand wringing picked up speed. And when she spoke, her voice was shaking even more with that unseen Terror:
         “Jim, honey, sweetheart, I… I… uh… I’m-an-epileptic… and… it’s… going-to-be-a… long night.”
         I was instantly relieved that she was still going. And I also knew, just as quickly, why she was so terrified. EVERYTHING fell into place now. Why she had always been so eager when I asked her out – I was the first, and she was already 17. Why I had never had to compete with ANY other guys for her attention. Why I never had any trouble getting in touch with her at home – she was always there. Why she had been so shy and so filled with such joy when I kissed her – again I was the FIRST. Why she’d gotten even more down when I joked about driving to the play – she couldn’t drive. Why she’d been so shy and hesitant all this time about anything that had to do with “us” – she’s unable to guarantee herself, or me that nothing will happen when we’re together, and she’s afraid of losing my friendship, my love. For 17 years when she told anyone outside of her family that she’s an epileptic, they would instantly turn their back on her. Suddenly cutting her off from their life completely and permanently, regardless of how good a friend they may have been just minutes before. Seventeen years of being taunted in school from arrival to departure. Undoubtedly the days she had seizures were the worst. THIS was the reason she was ridiculed by them all. Seventeen years of having her life constantly shattered because people turned away from her in response to something she could do nothing about. People always fear things they don’t understand, and kids can be the cruelest of all people in that area just as easily as in any other. And I knew, in her mind, that in spite of our mutually declared love, I was going to be the next one to walk away and leave her behind. Only this time she wasn’t losing just a playmate or a friend. She was losing someone who had come to mean a great deal more than that. For the first time in her life, she had someone who really cared for her who was not a relative; someone who cared for her personally. Romantically.
         “And now, all this will be gone. Just as fast as before,” she thought silently, as she fought to hold back the torrent of tears she felt welling up in her eyes. “But if we had stayed together, he would have had to know sometime anyway. And the longer I waited the harder it would have been to tell him. And what if a seizure came when we were together and I hadn’t told him yet? No, it’s just as well that I told him now. Then he can leave, and at least the one I love will be free of all this. I love you, Jim. I’ll remember these kisses each day in my room. And these dates. And what it feels like when you hold me in your arms. At least I’ve had a taste of what it would have been like, and I love you for it. I hope life is as good to you as you have been to me. Good-bye, Jim. I love you. I love you. I love you…”
         “If I could have seen her face as she finished speaking just then, I think she would have been white as a sheet,” I thought silently. “Only now the Terror wasn’t ‘Do I tell him or don’t I’ or ‘I’ll have to tell him sometime’, but ‘Please Jim, SAY something. Tell me goodbye and get it over with. But say something! ‘ “ I had to believe that that sort of idea was in control of her thoughts.
In that one instant I knew what had happened to her, and I also knew what I had to do. But with the nervous state she was in I had to tread carefully. I silently prayed. I hadn’t turned to Him for years. But I had to believe He’d still be there when I needed Him. “Lord, you know everything that’s happened to her, and how it’s affected her; I can only guess. I ask in Jesus’ name that you guide my every word and action tonight, so that my intentions will not be misunderstood in any way. Amen.” There was just no other way out of this one, except Him. After what must have seemed an eternity to her, I spoke. Slowly. Softly.
         “Well, Lin, I have to admit that you startled me,” I heard myself saying. I thought, “Boy, what a weak way to lead into this! I gotta do better than that! How about it, Lord?” I continued: “But I don’t know whether it was because of this, or because I was afraid you were going to say that your folks were no longer on our side.”
         “Oh, no. They’re still on our side,” she said, mechanically, still as terror-stricken as ever because I hadn’t yet responded to the real reason for this situation.
         I suddenly thought, “I sure wish we could stop and talk about this. I’d be able to handle this much better if she was all I had to worry about. But going 30 miles an hour in a line of traffic? I can’t stop now. Lord?” I steered with my left hand, leaving my right hand free for her. I put it on her shoulder, and gently got her to lean back against the seat. The wringing of hands had stopped. Her head still hung low, her eyes still riveted to the floorboard. She said nothing. Slowly, gently I continued. “Linda, look at me.” She slowly raised her head, wiped away the tears that had welled up in her eyes as she waited to hear the expected “goodbye” from the only one she’d ever loved, and turned to me. On her face I saw every bit of that Terror that had been in her every word. Only now it was ”Are you going to leave like all the others?” But she had still heard me ask her to face me, because she had done so; so I knew she could hear the rest of my words. Checking for traffic, I found a moment and looked her in the eye. I continued, still speaking slowly, and softly. I wanted to make sure I didn’t frighten her any more than she already was, and I wanted to be sure she heard every word. “Then Lin, there’s something that I want you to understand. It makes no difference in the way I feel about you.” I searched feverishly for words to show how sincere I meant to be. At times like this, words seem totally inadequate, especially English words. “Lin, if you’ve NEVER believed me before, believe me NOW. It makes absolutely no difference in the way I feel about you. I love you too much for me to let it make a difference.” She leaned her head back against the seat, but still said nothing. Her nervous breathing style seemed unchanged.
         “Did he say what I thought he said? Or did I hear only what I really wanted to hear?” she thought, excited and hopeful, yet unsure as she lay back. “I’d better wait until I know for sure, but I’ve got to pay attention and respond to him to find out. I just hope he can’t tell I’m still scared. He thinks I heard him.”
         Nervous silence followed.
         I continued a minute or two later. “Lin, you don’t have to tell me any more than you want to, but there are a couple of things I’d like to know – just to fit pieces into the puzzle. Okay?” I asked softly.
         “Okay.”
         “Lin, one of the members of the first violin section passed out before the Christmas concert my first year in orchest…”
         “It was me,” she said quickly.
         “I was wondering if it was,” I admitted.
         “What did they say when it happened?”
         “I was shocked at the time, between your collapse and first year jitters, but somebody said, ‘Aw, just put her on the table in the (music) library and she’ll be O.K.’ ”
         “Probably Mr. Wilson.”
         “No, it was one of the students,” I said, noting that her responses were still short and that the fear was still present. “Automatic responses again. She may not even remember this,” I thought to myself.
         “I wonder who.”
         "Lin, just so I know what to expect, how bad can your seizures get?" Back to the hand-wringing. Silently, I thought, "Why'd I have to ask that question NOW, Lord?"
         "I'll just pass out for about five minutes or so. When I wake up, I'll be tired the rest of the day."
         "Is there anything I can do to help?"
         "No."
         The hand wringing stopped with the conversation. I don’t know if the silence that followed was because we were afraid to say anything, or that we just didn’t know what to say.
         A couple minutes later we reached her house. Anxiously I pulled in the drive and shut off the engine, quickly jumping from the car. “How stable is she going to be on her feet?” I wondered as I opened the door for her to get out. “I’d better be ready to steady her.”
         She stepped out of the car and I put my arm around her waist. Not just “in case”. I wanted to anyway. But this way I was prepared, too. I slowly walked her to the door. She didn’t speak. Just reached for the door handle.
         “Will he let me just walk out of his life without a word or will he stop me?” she thought, still terrified. “Please, Jim, stop me! I’m too scared to do anything! I’m still not sure what I heard before. At least tell me good-bye like everybody always does. Then at least I’ll know. But please don’t let it end this way!”
         Gently, with a hand on her shoulder, I stopped her. I turned her around and took her in my arms. Firmly. I felt she needed to know they were there. She silently laid her head on my chest. “She still hasn’t said much; only when I spoke to her,” I said to myself, a little nervous as that thought sank in. “Father,” I prayed silently, “please help me to handle this as gently as she deserves. You’re the only Psychiatrist who knows what my words will do.” Having been unable to find better words by now I repeated: “Lin, if you’ve NEVER believed me before, PLEASE believe me NOW. It makes ABSOLUTELY no difference in the way I feel about you. I still love you.”
         “He DID say it! I can’t believe it! But he’s talking right in my ear… it HAD to be him! Lord, if You’re still there after all these years, thank you! I love you, Jesus! Please let me show him how much it means to me! I love you, Jim! I love you! I hope you can tell!” she thought, ecstatic.
         I felt her head move slowly, tilting back to look at me, though it still lay on my chest. When our eyes met, I was instantly, completely captivated by her gaze. All the tension, fear and hesitation were gone. The look in her eyes was not only a feeling of absolute relief, total peace and contentment, and the fullest possible feeling of gratitude, but also an outpouring of the deepest, most sincere, utterly boundless and unending love imaginable. As we stood there, held motionless now by each other’s gaze, she said three words with an emotion which echoed all that I saw in her eyes. She was so relieved she almost had no breath.
         Softly, almost inaudibly she whispered, “I believe you!”
         As I slowly leaned down, her lips parted and we shared the deepest, most passionate kiss we’d ever had. She promptly melted in my arms. I decided I’d hold that kiss as long as she felt she needed it; I wanted her to know I would never back away. I tightened my arms around her; I wanted her to know she could count on feeling secure there.
         When she did end the kiss, she looked at me with that same expression of relief, gratitude and love, and softly whispered, “I love you, Jim Williamson. I only hope I can find a way to show you how much your love really and truly means to me.”
         “And I love you, Linda Hart.”
         She moved toward me, silently indicating in that way that she wanted the security of my embrace once again. I warmly put my arms around her, tightening them just to the point of a firm squeeze. She snuggled in, laying her head contentedly on my chest where, just minutes before, it had lain in silent fear. Only this time it was because she was at peace, free of all that had tormented her about what I would do if I found out. And I knew she knew I was still there, still a part of her life. And just then, that’s all that really mattered to either one of us. A short while later I took her head in my hands, made her look at me, and we shared one more of those deep, searching, passionate kisses we’d only come to know moments before.
         “I’ll see you tomorrow, darling,” I said lovingly as we broke off the kiss.
         “You can count on that,” she said, with a warmth, and a feeling of love in her voice I’d never heard before.
         Neither of us wanted that night to end, yet we knew it must. As I headed home, there was no doubt in my mind that we would be together for the rest of our lives. I knew that she believed me without a doubt – that she knew I still loved her regardless – and that was all that really mattered to me now. It felt good to make that kind of difference in someone’s life. I had always known that falling in love was special, but I was lucky enough to be the recipient of a deeper, more meaningful and sincere love than most men ever see in their lives.
         “Lord, I thank you for this night, and for the wonderful love you have now deepened between us. Please guide me so that I can be there in whatever way she needs me,” I prayed aloud as I drove home.

         As Linda entered the house that night, she was barely able to close and lock the door behind her.
         “Hi, Squeek,” her dad called as he heard the front door.
         Half staggering from emotional exhaustion, half floating from total elation, she fumbled her way to the family room, a strange smile of sheer joy evident on her face.
         As he heard her approach, her father again called ‘hello’.
         Still she said nothing. She just stumbled her way down the stairs to join him and plopped down on the empty couch.
         “Are you all right, honey?” he asked, concerned.
         “Couldn’t… be… happier,” she managed to mutter as she worked to catch her breath. That joyful smile had never left her face.
         “What’s this all about?” he inquired, curiosity taking over now that she said she was okay.
         “Linda just coyly smiled. She couldn’t resist the chance to tease him a little. Her parents always waited up for her when she was out late, and she was never more glad they did that than this night.
         “I told Jim about the epilepsy,” she beamed. As her mind went back to that glorious moment just minutes earlier, the excitement returned and overflowed into her words. She took on a rapid-fire style as she continued. “And he still LOVES me! He-actually-said-it-makes-absolutely-no-difference-in-the-way-he-feels-about-me. Those-were-his-exact-words: ‘It-makes-absolutely-no-difference’. I-couldn’t-believe-it-for-the-longest-time. I just sat there numb all the way home. He had to repeat it outside on the porch before I could really believe I’d heard him right. My saying nothing all that time must have really worried him. Maybe I better apologize tomorrow for putting him through that.”
         “I think he understands honey. But go ahead if you’d feel better. I think he’d understand your wanting to do that, too.”
         “What’s all this?” her mother echoed as she entered from the kitchen.
         “I told Jim about the epilepsy,” Linda joyfully repeated. “And he says ‘It makes absolutely no difference’. That he still LOVES me!
         “That’s beautiful!” her mom cried as she rushed over to give Linda a hug. “I couldn’t be happier, honey.”
         “Neither could I”,” Linda said warmly, shivering at the wonderful recollection of that special moment. That grin that still refused to leave her face was making it hard to form words. But she didn’t care. Not this time.
         As the mood of elation subsided, her father came over and gave her a hug.
         “You know, Linda,” her mom began, I’ve found myself wondering once in a while how long it would take you to find someone who cared enough. I just didn’t want to worry you with the idea.”
         “Mom,” Linda replied affectionately, but with reflection, “I’d been wondering for YEARS if it would ever happen at all. All the other girls at school always talk about the great time they had on their most recent date with the football hero, or whoever, and sometimes about how far some of the guys would try to get them to go with the lovemaking, and all I could do was listen to all that excitement and wonder if I would ever in my life get to know what any of it was like. You couldn’t spare me that heartache either, mom. But I love you for trying.”
         “I should have known,” her mom admitted reflectively.
         “But all that DID happen,” Linda said excitedly, the feeling of sheer joy returning as she spoke the words yet again. “He still LOVES me! Oh! And he gave me the longest, most romantic kisses I ever dreamed of! And the way he held me… I never dreamed it could feel that good! You know, I think he knew I needed that because he squeezed me at just the right time!”
         “Are you going to be able to sleep tonight?” her father asked, knowing full well he needn’t have bothered.
         “You kidding?” Linda chirped, still on cloud nine. “No, but who cares?” she yelled joyously as she bounded off toward her room. “Not me, that’s for sure! It’s a good thing it’s Friday night!”
         “She’s right about THAT,” dad chucked as they followed her at a more leisurely pace toward the bedroom wing.
         “I’ve prayed for a long time that I’d see this day come in her life,” mom confided as they ascended the stairs. “But sometimes I’d think that maybe I didn’t have enough faith that it would really happen.”
         “I know it’s been hard, honey, and I’ve been praying for the very same thing. And now we get to share the joy with her. And from the look on her face tonight and that song in her heart, I think we’ll be more than amply rewarded.”
         As they walked, they heard her voice up ahead of them:
         “He still LOVES me! He still LOVES me! And I STILL almost can’t believe it! Thank you, Lord, for making my dream come true. Please show me a way that I can prove to him how much his love really does mean to me. I love you, Jim, and with your help, Lord, I’ll be able to show him how deeply I really do love him…


This work is taken from "A Once In A Lifetime Love: An Autobiography of Two High School Sweethearts", copyright 2000, as yet unpublished, by the same author.