Our Story ... Chapter 4

The next day was Monday. My classes were deliberately scheduled for early mornings with a break for lunch and my favorite soap operas All My Children and General Hospital, then more classes in the afternoon putting me back at the dorm around 4:30 or 5:00. The day was routine but cold. The snow had stopped, and the sun was strong enough to cause the icicles to drip and the roads to clear. As I entered the quad, my roommates Rose, Janet, and Maribeth were sitting, uncharacteristically quiet, in the tiny living room we shared.

Rose was tall and fair, a natural blonde, and a giggle-talker. Her giggle would always win out over her words, pushing her cheeks so high and full and her smile so wide as to squish her sparkly blue eyes into upturned slits. Her joy for life overflowed and often glistened and trickled from her eyes. It was as though her face simply could not hold her spirit. She was spacey and funny and a light.

Janet was that rare person to whom you could tell your deepest secrets and be assured she would confess them only in her prayers. Sweet, compassionate, and grounded, she was my go-to person whenever I was troubled or just needed to talk.

Maribeth, I’m a little embarrassed to admit, was probably the most academically focused. She came from an exceptionally accomplished family, and she wore their expectations for her faithfully, with pride, determination, and discipline. As she was also the most serious and outspoken, she was the first to blurt out, “So, tell us about this British guy.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, curious to learn how they knew about last night. I hadn’t told them anything.

Then, the three, who had been bursting at the seams, came to life all at once in a jumble….

“He’s called for you three times!” “‘Is Diane there or not?’” “We took turns answering.” “His accent!” “Oh, he said he ‘trod on a piece of glass and carried on walking!’”

“Is he hurt?” I asked.

“No, I don’t think so,” Janet assured me.

“How do you know him” asked Maribeth.

“Who is he?” Rose echoed.

“A guy I met at a party last night. I didn’t think he would call,” I said, genuinely surprised.

Then, the phone rang.

“I bet that’s him!” Rose shrieked and snatched the phone that hung on the green cement-block wall. “Helloo. Yeesss, she’s here. Hehehee!! Who is this?” “Oh, it’s Maahhtin,” she whispered.

I grabbed the phone, put my hand over the receiver and with raised eyebrows and tight lips, glared at the three hecklers: Stop it! Not a word!!

“Hello,” I said.

“Hi, this is Martin Watts. We met last night at….”

“Yes. Hi, Martin.”

“I was wondering if maybe you’d like to have dinner or something with me tonight.”

“Uh, sure, okay. Where will we go?”

“Well, that’s the thing,” he said. “I have to eat at the cafeteria in the student center. I’m on the meal plan.”

That doesn’t sound very romantic, I thought. “Well, if you’d like a change, we could go off-campus. I have a car. We could drive somewhere.”

“Really?” That would be great,” he said.

“Okay. Where would you like to go?” I asked.

“I don’t know, really. But, I’ve heard a lot about this McDonalds. Do you think we could go there?”

“Uh ….sure. We can go there, “ I said, amused.

So, we planned to meet in front of my dorm at 6:00 PM. From there, we walked to where my 1979 Silver AMC Pacer had sat frozen for days and now rested in a slushy puddle. As we approached the car, Martin walked to the driver’s side door and stood waiting for me to unlock it.

“I think I should drive,” I said.

“Yes,” he replied, without budging.

We stood there for a few seconds looking blankly at each other. I didn’t want to be rude and nudge him out of the way so I could get the key in the door. “Excuse me,” I said, moving slightly forward toward him.

“Oh! I always do that!” he jumped back. “At home, the steering wheel is on the other side. Sorry.”

We laughed and talked about steering wheels, driving on the “wrong” side of the road, road signs, and round-abouts. This was just the first of many discoveries we would make about the fascinating differences between our two assumedly symbiotic countries.

Next stop … McDonalds.