I met Helen after I graduated from college in 1976 when I was living in California. It was all due to a practical joke my friends played on me at a nightclub. They tricked me into believing a drink on an unoccupied table was one they had purchased for me. I picked up the drink only to find out that it belonged to Helen.
I apologized and bought her a new drink. We chatted, got to know each other and danced the night away. We began dating and were soon inseparable. We took her two young boys with us on picnics and to amusement parks. It was a blissful family life.
But after almost two years dating, Helen expected more. She wanted a commitment. As much as I loved her, I felt I wasn’t ready for marriage. We amicably ended our relationship.
Yet, as much as I tried, it was a love I couldn’t forget. Her cards and letters kept coming frequently. I didn’t respond until one day a short “Dear John” letter arrived. She wrote that a coworker, who had been interested in her for several years, had proposed to her! She had been dating him after our break up. It had been three months and I thought that was very fast.
“Loved ones can be stolen.” I read that in an essay. And this guy was the one just about to do it.
I called Helen.
“We need to talk. I made reservations for dinner at a restaurant in Malibu. It’s dressy dress,” I added.
“I’ll be ready,” she replied.
I arrived at her house in the late afternoon. When she opened the door, I was completely stunned. She wore a revealing black dress. She looked lovely.
We drove to Malibu chatting as if we’d never been apart. I didn’t bring up her coworker’s proposal. But I knew we were going to discuss it.
We were pleasantly surprised to find the restaurant situated next to a pier with sweeping ocean views. We stepped inside. The hostess walked us to our table. The restaurant was completely surrounded by floor to ceiling bay windows.
“Oh my,” she exclaimed as she stared at waves hitting a nearby reef.
I ordered a bottle of wine. The tuxedoed waiter arrived, showed me the label and pronounced the name. I nodded, not knowing what to say as this was all new to me. He uncorked the wine, and poured a half-glass, and handed it to me. I downed it in one swift movement like a shot of whiskey.
I saw his surprised face. Oops! That was certainly a major “faux pas.” I mumbled it was good wine. He turned and left the bottle in a bucket along with two glasses.
Helen, amused, shook her head.
“I guess I wasn’t supposed to do that,” I said.
She smiled.
“No, you weren’t. But don’t worry about it,” she said.
That was just like her. Her voice was tender, not reproachful. I could only imagine what the waiter was telling his coworkers in the kitchen about me. But Helen did not make me feel like an utter fool.
At long last, the moment arrived as we sat there comfortably in each other’s company, waiting for dessert. I finally broached the subject of the proposal.
She explained that her suitor was 12 years her senior.
“He’s always shown an interest in me, but was respectful as he knew I was dating you,” she said. “One day he noticed I was sad and I told him we had broken up. He started talking to me and asked me out and we started dating.”
I felt a sharp pang of jealousy. She said she was considering marrying him for security and stability. She had spent a weekend on his ranch in Fresno.
I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. She sensed my discomfort. But before I could say a word, she said, “Don’t worry. Nothing happened. I took the boys with me.”
I nodded. She continued talking about the ranch.
I finally asked her, “Do you love him?”
She cast her head down. There was a long pause.
Before she could utter a word, I said, “I guess that answers my question.”
She raised her head and I could see her teary eyes. She met my eyes and said softly, “No, I love you.”
I wanted to kiss her. Instead, I reached across the table and held her hands. After paying the check, I took her outside.
The restaurant had a railed wooden walkway. Holding hands we saw the sun setting in the ocean, a bright orange ball in the horizon. We agreed it was beautiful. I then pulled her toward me and we embraced. I whispered in her ear, “I missed you so much.” And before she could reply I said, “I love you, Helen. I will never leave you again. Will you marry me?”
Her eyes welled up.
“Yes,” she replied. “I will.”
We kissed. I don’t know how long we stood there in each other’s arms, but we were both tearfully happy.
We married in December 1978 and were together for 42 years until Helen died in December 2020.
I am forever thankful the love of my life was not stolen.
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