Thank you so much for enquiring about how my hand is healing.
I am doing well, and am overjoyed that I have been given back the use of that troublesome finger. It did worry me, because if this operation had been unsuccessful, I would not have been able to type, and that would mean the end of my writing.
But you wanted to hear more about how Stan and I met, and what happened next. Ok, here goes:
If I had known the mischief his hazel eyes held, maybe I would have thought twice about getting to know him, but I doubt it. I was captivated. Ensnared on the odyssey to fulfil the Divine decree that only Stan and I together would be able to carry out; our mission in this life without which there would be a hole in Papa God’s plans. For now I know that we absolutely are supposed to be together. That only together can we possibly do all that God has called us to be.
The following Saturday evening, we both met at the young adults' group. Nodded at each other, trying to appear nonchalant. The next day I flew out to Rarotonga on a holiday. Much as I tried, I couldn’t stop the image of that cheeky grin from popping into my vision.
It was Saturday, early in the morning when I arrived back from my holiday in the Cook Islands. And even though I was really tired, it was Guy Fawkes night, 5 November 1979 and there was no way I was going to miss a good barbecue at the young adults group. And besides, he would be there. And yes he was, at the barbecue. And so was another young man.
I’d never been fought over before!
With Stan and the other man vying for my attention, I was a little perplexed, however, at every possible moment, Stan and I would make an excuse to be near the other. We didn’t need the sky rockets or blasts from the crackers. We had our own personal fireworks going on. And still neither of us said anything.
As a female, it wasn’t my place to say something, all I could do was to simply moon over this man. It was his prerogative to make the first move. Such was my understanding being brought up in that generation. At the close of the evening, the other young man bundled me into his car, in the front seat, and relegated Stan to the back seat. Years later, Stan told me that when the other man told him he was going to ask me out, that Stan thought he’d better make a move. I’m still wondering just when that move is going to happen? It was only about a week after Guy Fawkes night, that a friend, Kathy, and I decided to go to the movies as a group, with these two men from the young adults, Stan and Steve. We sat waiting for the guys to buy the mandatory sweets, the Jaffa's, and ice creams. My eyes kept straying over to one of the men in particular.
”Kathy,” I got her attention, which is no small feat, as Kathy always has something to say. She stopped eyeing up the ice creams and sweets and looked at me.
“I love Stan. I’m going to marry him.”
We’ve all heard the saying that someone’s eye bugged out of their head, and Kathy’s truly did. She spluttered,
“You haven’t even dated him. You can’t possibly say that!”
But I could. I did. I knew. The fact that he wore glasses and had a slightly receding hairline didn’t even go against my untried 22 years understanding of what my ideal man would look like. After all, In the late ‘70’s, glasses were not on-trend, and balding was definitely not cool. I shake my head now at what a superficial understanding of love and people we’d been taught. The following week, Stan came to my work and took me out for lunch. We went to Maxi’s. The best pepper steaks in Auckland city, down the stairs in Queens Arcade, off Queen Street. He sat across the table waiting for our pepper steaks to arrive. Reaching for my hand, he spoke from his heart.
“I brought you here to tell you, I’m no good for you. I’m divorced. But I love you, and want to marry you.”
Divorced! What would the church say?!
How could I reconcile what I had been taught with that? But, I’d fallen in love. All things could be overcome with love. Couldn’t they? I didn't go back to work that day, phoning in and telling them I was sick. They sniggered.
I couldn’t understand why? What was funny?
Oh how innocent I was. Of course I had told my work mates that I’d met this man. Of course I’d told them he was taking me out for lunch. Yes, of course they sniggered when I phoned to tell them I was sick. I was sick. Sick in love.
Many ask if there is love at first sight? Oh, there definitely is. If only though, we had known what was to come, how broken we both were.
Maybe we could have pre-empted the horror years.
I hope this makes you laugh, and helps you Jenny. Jenny, I am only too willing to answer your questions.
Regards, Justine.
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