Chapter 7
1996- 2003
1996-2003
At some point in our lives, we were either taught, or we figured it out ourselves, or learned lessons that incorporate stories about Aesop and his 12 fables; lessons on life and life’s timeline, which have such an important impact on our lives. For Royce and Charles, it was about ‘The Crow and The Pitcher’, there will always be a way. There is a lot to learn and understand about people’s lives and how they intersect with others. Even if we try our best to avoid collision or even a minor correlation in parallel universes with someone, it is almost impossible not to interact with someone in some manner. And when we do accept this experience, this interaction, it will be forever linked to a person and that person’s life’s timeline. It was Charles’s wish that they would be forever linked, always be of one mind and of one soul.
It was between 1997 and 2003 that Royce’s business was growing and expanding so well she needed two offices to accommodate her clientele’s needs. Her willingness to do other things besides mediate decaying relationships resulted in filling up what was left free in her world and days. Charles also, in the years that followed their telephone conversation, was very busy. He was literally rebuilding a new life by himself. His daughter, who took up residence, with Charles in the home that her grandparents built. Then in 1998 moved from Levittown, with her father, to a 3 level town house, in the same neighborhood in which she grew up, and where her family spent a total of 25 years together as a unit. New furniture, new construction, a new life. This town home would work very well for Charles for a while.
Although Royce and Charles continued to email each other regularly, it seemed to have less effect on their sensations, and more towards a comradery of survival and success; occasionally including a commentary of the weather on the opposite coasts. The touch on the back of his neck was gone, the hug was gone, the warm breath on his body was also gone, and the only thing left for the email to proposed was to write ‘more tomorrow’. They still signed each email with ‘love, Charles’ and ‘love, buffy’. For Charles, that was enough for now. He was finally getting ready to retire from teaching; 37 years was not really the number he was reaching for, but 37 years was long enough. What was immediately looming in the shadows, top priority, was finalizing the divorce agreement. Which was really an oxymoron; how can a divorce have agreements. Charles always believed, and at times, tried to lay out this logic in the middle of a heated argument with Arlene, that it should be obvious to both of them, that they would need to agree on something in order to argue about it; “…so, you see, we aren’t really all that far apart from agreeing with each other.” was his homily for that moment. The logic was illusive at best; even to him, at times.
All based on algorithms, and on a previous divorce case that is now the standard rule of thumb for all divorces in New York State, their decreed, their DRO [Domestic Relations Order] stated that couples who commit to a divorce shall share [Equal Distribution] all salaries that each spouse makes. That meant for Charles, since the numbers are always black and white, when they divorce, Charles will give Arlene 38% of his pension. Forever. And since his pension will only be 75% of his final salary, it meant, bottom line, that Charles could not afford to stay in New York. Something his kids would never understand, or never wanted to understand; he just up and left where he had lived forever. He ran away. There is a lot on Charles’s plate right now, as it became apparent, this was also true for Royce.
2003 found Charles and his son taking a hiatus from their relationship, his daughter had moved to Florida with her boyfriend; and Charles discovered that he was completely free to have sovereignty over his own decision and own direction. Charles was for the very first time in his entire life totally alone, other than his pets. And Charles decided then, without any rebuff on his part, he needed to move out of New York State and move to Florida; and to remain alone, he planned on moving to the opposite coast from where his daughter lives. Taking with him a dog and 3 cats. The math was simple for Charles, the move would leave him with a profit; there would be no mortgage on the house he was able to pay cash, taxes were at best 1/3 of New York State taxes, which would more than make up for that 38% donation to his forever former wife’s coffer. But it would also mean he would lose his friends, a way of life that took almost 60 years to develop and apparently respect from his children, and those who voluntarily stayed for a better family picture; ‘you’re running away’. So be it. He signed a listing agreement, the house went under contract by October 2003, and closed in November 2003. He flew to Florida in October 2003, went into contract on a house, 3 days later, in October 2003, and closed on his new home in November 2003. Head spinning, never moved so fast with so much decisiveness, focus, and he ended numb with anticipation mixed with complete fear. A couple of nights before he went on the road on his drive to Florida, he stood in front of the gravesites of his mother and father. He stood there shivering due to the chill in the air, and also the fear that wrapped him tightly in its grip; what was he about to do, in a couple of days, it made no sense. Pull the covers over your head and make believe it was a bad dream. In 2005, with the advent and development of Google Maps, he began searching for the aerial view of his parents’ graves. He needed to find where they are located and apologize to them profusely. Albeit virtually, this act for forgiveness was for what he said, back in 2003, while he stood in front of their graves. Shivering, and taking the last drag of his cigarette, flicking the butt with sparks flying, he leaned over their graves, and said, “Mom, Pop, I really am afraid of what I’ve decided to do, what I am about to do. I really don’t know what the fuck am I doing!! Stay with me….okay?” On the New Jersey Turnpike, a few days later, maneuvering his van through a toll booth, packed with his animals and his life, he suddenly relived that moment at the cemetery. ‘Fuck??’ He screamed in his head. ‘When have I ever cursed in front of my parents? How am I ever going to apologize to them?’
Thank goodness for Google Maps. It was virtual, and it was sincerely weird. But Google found the plots, and he apologized to the computer screen. He smiled, relieved.
Summer of 2003
The phone rang. “Hi Charles!” A familiar area code, an even more familiar voice. Charles sat, making a quick mental note where he left off in the process of packing up his home. Putting down his list of things he needed to do before he sold his home.
“Royce!! Hey Buffy!! How are you?”
“ Hi. I’m really sorry for this last minute call, but lately I’ve been doing things on the spur…you know, last minute. Having to make decisions with little thought. You remember Allen from centuries ago? He’s really, really sick. He lives in Cherry Grove, you know on Fire Island, now full time, and he called me, he needed me to be with him. Like I said he is very sick. I’m here now, on Fire Island, in Cherry Grove with Allen. I saw him yesterday, just arrived yesterday, and I hardly recognized him. And I’m still here, but I need to leave in a couple of days. Back to California. I have so much on my plate. Right now. I need to clean things up. So, I’m on Fire Island now. Can you come over and say hi?” She went on, with so much hope in her voice, “Maybe tomorrow? I really need to get back home. So many things I still have to do. Please? I need to see you, and not just talk to you on the phone.”
“Yes. Of course. Not this time. I won’t say no to you this time. Promise. But I would have come over yesterday, but I understand you needed to be with Allen also. I get that. I will come over by Ferry tomorrow. I don’t know it’s schedule off hand, so I’ll tell you the time tomorrow. Will that work?” Charles said all that in about one breath.
“Yes. That’s perfect” She replied.
“Okay. Listen Royce, I really don’t have anyone here to watch my dog, Jack. I really can’t leave him a whole entire day without going out. Hope you understand that my stay on the island, without planning or notice, might be only for a few hours; all depending on the Ferry schedule.” Charles said. He hated last minute plans. He’s so OCD he prefers to put the letters in alphabetical order; c-d-o. But it was Royce, it was the opportunity to make right what he screwed up over 30 years ago. He will go, last minute, no plans, and see his Royce.
What she told him, the reason for going to Fire Island, suddenly made one part of the story about Royce complete. Allen was a friend of Royce that Charles knew about back in the 1965. Royce asked him one day to take a ride, her car, to see Allen. He was some type of counselor at a camp in one of the well known Catskill Mountain resorts. The trip took well over 4 hours, but Allen was a very close friend, and to Charles, a potential competitor in winning Royce’s heart? And now, Allen was sick, very sick according to Royce. And Allen now lives full time in Cherry Grove? ‘Please don’t stereotype’, Charles told himself not to do that.
Fire Island is one of several islands that run parallel to Long Island’s south shoreline. And because these islands block storms like Hurricanes, that arrive annually, from eroding the south shore of Long Island, these islands are known by the residents as Barrier Beaches or Barrier Islands. They have been very effective over the centuries in protecting Long Island. Jones Beach is the most famous of the Barrier Islands. With the guidance and supervision of Robert Moses, New York State Commissioner of Transportation in the 1940’s, Jones Beach eventually became a hot spot for tourism. The next Barrier Beach going east is Fire Island; according to legend, fires were kept ablaze on this barrier beach during heavy fog so the ships wouldn’t run aground. Or according to Long Island folklore, the fires helped the sailors find where the rum dealers were waiting to have their banned liquids secretly delivered. The first of the beaches on Fire Island was of course named appropriately, Robert Moses State Park; a public beach which touts its infamous ‘clothing is optional’ section. From this park going east, cars were not allowed. And the dozen or so towns that were built on Fire Island, from that point east, are connected to each other only by sand paths on which just bicycles or push wagons and pedestrians were allowed to transverse. One town called Ocean Bay Park was very popular, known to it visitors as the ‘isle of no’; although catering to tourists is a paramount business here, in this beach front town, there was absolutely no eating allowed of any kind on any public street in that town. A totally accepted rule, strictly followed, and without complaint. Atlantique, Davis Park, Kismet, Fire Island Pines, Robbins Rest, Point O’ Woods, Saltaire, Ocean Beach, and others; many of these towns have permanent residents, post offices, their own zip codes, and even schools. The quickest way to get on or off of each town was by a ferry that ran from specific villages on the south shore of Long Island [Main Land] to that a specific Fire Island town it serviced. So that meant, during the winter when the Great South Bay froze, you stayed put.
Allen was living in what was probably one of the most famous of all the towns on the barrier beach; Cherry Grove. The ‘Grove’ is a tiny city, permanent residents, restaurants, theaters, and almost completely inhabited by a group of people that are proud to be labeled, as they required, with the accepted acronym LGBTQ. Cherry Grove caters to the gay and lesbian community, and straights that aren’t homophobic. However, back in the 50’s, 60’s, 70’s, and to some extent, early 90’s people feared going there, and wouldn’t lay on the private beaches of that town for the fear of catching AIDS from the sand. Arlene and our son had a huge argument one day whether to allow him to spend the night on Fire Island; she was afraid he would catch AIDS while sleeping on the beach; and it wasn’t anywhere near Cherry Grove. As society and its inhibitions changed, becoming more inclusive, the Grove eventually became an economic gold mine for Long Island; huge money-making operations existed in that town, attracting thousands to journey there to spend a day, and their money, at the Grove in return for some amazing food and live shows.
Allen lives full time in Cherry Grove. Allen has AIDS? Was he dying? Or is he just very sick, and this is where he lives full time now, and Charles was still stuck in the stereotypical mode of yesterday?
As promised, the following day, Charles drove to a town on the southern shores on Long Island called Sayville. There he would get on the Ferry designated to go only to Cherry Grove. And there, he would meet Royce. Charles couldn’t grasp the idea that he was going to meet his pixy, his Buffy after some many years. The only image in Charles’s mind at that moment on the ferry was of Royce of 30 years ago.
He loved sitting on the upper deck of the Bay ferries, as the cool bay breeze whipped around his face. He has taken ferries to almost all the different Fire Island towns, hundreds of times, but today this was his first time. The ferry moved rapidly over the 3 miles of open bay water; it would take 30 minutes, at this particular route over the bay, that included leaving the port at Sayville to finally docking at the Grove. In those 30 minutes, he relived every second of his life with Royce. Her touch, her voice, her breathe, her smile, every inch of her body just filled every convolution of his brain, every synapse, and every spark of nerve impulse now firing in his mind; they were all alive with anticipation. He was consumed.
The ferry finally docked. He stood on the second level of the ferry, leaning on the boat’s railing overlooking the pier and the people on the pier. Almost all of the people on the dock were standing in line, waiting for the passengers still on the ferry to get off so they could get on. There was one person on the pier looking for him. Royce.
He recognized her immediately, even with her short hair that was now all grey. She stood there, totally different from the Royce he just finished reviewing on his ride over. But with all that was different about her, he saw her immediately, recognized her instantly. And, she saw him immediately, and recognized him instantly. Her smile, her eyes; ‘make sure to check to see the color of her eyes’ he reminded himself to remember to do that. Still on the second level of the ferry, he felt their embrace. Then without warning, he found himself walking faster than normal on the crowded boat to its lower level, and to ferry’s exit gate. He thinks he remembered pushing someone out of the way, but unimportant right now, apologies not necessary right now. He is on the dock. She stood there, and so did he. Staring at each other, apart, for what felt like an eternity. Then, in an instance, their embrace began, and that just seemed to last forever, releasing 30 years of dreams, memories, and hopes in that physical bond, in that spot on the dock. Thirty years’ worth of wondering if they would ever touch again; and if they did, what would it feel like. They hugged so long that it began to receive the attention of the others around them; sounds of approval, joy and admiration filled the salt air framing their faces now buried into each other. People were sending their hopes and dreams directly to this couple embracing in front of them. Hoping, wishing it were them finding their true love. Finally, they moved their faces apart far enough to look at each other. “Hi Royce”. “Hi Charles”. They kissed.
How many hardships do we have to dodge in our lives before we decide enough is enough? Do we just keep on plodding on and on, from one heartbreak to another? Is it something in our nature to endure, to willingly carry a burden, with the hope that there is a place where a rainbow touches earth, only to have no satisfaction after it doesn’t? Are we fools to dream, daring something to happen, then left with only a prayer for a plan for it succeed? Is there a way to predetermine that we’re just wasting our time when the odds are not in our favor? So, we can forget a hopeless idea, and move on to more reasonable dreams. Or do we ‘bah humbug’ the forebearers of gifts, just ignore their existence and assume they will bring us no joy; this way we won’t waste our time to wish for them. Charles was a dreamer, and an idealist who conjures up faith and hope as his mainstay to life. He wants to believe all people were honest and serves only for the good and wellbeing towards him. For Charles there will be very few bright days; for him there will be many constraints, oppositions and disappointments. Sometimes he thinks as himself as a symbol of a real-life Don Quixote, except his windmills are illusions of gaining respect and validation. People have generally fucked with his life.
Royce and Charles felt the stares, saw the smiles, and shared a laugh and a blush. Finding their balance, they quickly turned to the first street that would take them as quickly away from the dock as possible. Slowing down only to find themselves still holding each other’s hand, and sharing a very long glance. They both had a thought; they would live together in harmony and in private from this point on. ‘Is it really you holding my hand?’ A shared question. Finally catching their breathe and poise with the real world around them, they were alone from the stares and attention. They turned toward each other, and rekindled the kiss they had on the dock, but this time it was for no one else.
They performed the mandatory complimentary dance that two people who have not seen each other in over five decades must do.
“…you look great, not a bit older”
“…but I have gray hair now”
“…your gray hair is actually awesome and very stately”
“…ha, but my lack of hair”
“…and you, bald but very manly looking.”
“At least we are still at the same height difference that we were ages ago,” he said. They nodded in agreement. That only made them laugh out loud, which only drew the same attention that they were trying to lose at the dock. They moved to a new private spot along the sandy path.
Royce explained that she came back to New York to close some unfinished family business resulting from her father’s passing, and while here, she felt it important to also see people with which she needed to settle issues and other stuff that was left undone, unfinished over time. “And, somehow I fell into that category?” Charles inserted between her sentences. “Don’t get me wrong….I said that badly. I’m sorry,” Royce backed up a bit from that thought, “I am really happy to see you, Charles. I didn’t sleep a bit last night trying to see what today would be like, and us together again.” “You’re leaving tomorrow?” Trying to get away from sounding like someone, whining, that she had to explain why she had limited time here, to see him. That wasn’t what he meant to say, and it just came out all wrong. “I’m really sorry this is such a short notice, Charles. I never meant to squeeze you in between seeing other people. Things got really screwed up recently, and I’m working against the clock since I need to get home rather quickly. It’s just so much to do and see in such a short time. Life can be unfair sometimes.” Charles took this for just its face value and certainly agreed with her. Damn, he’s in the process of selling his home here on Long Island and moving to Florida in a few months. This move wasn’t what he wanted either, so I guess he needs to accept what she has to deal with. “I absolutely understand how things can come up without warning, and suddenly give you a timeline to accomplish things in such short notice. It’s a miracle we can get everything done in time.” He said, and added, “I do understand Royce. And I am thrilled, and really honored that you wanted to spend the time that you could with me.” And finally added, “And now I want to make a promise that I will no longer be a stranger, and I will be the one that initiates the next conversation.” “That would be awesome Charles,” she replied. “I would love for you to meet my husband, and actually my former husband also”. “Yes, I noticed your name is made up of both your former husband and your present married names. That’s cool. I can’t even remember what my ex-wife looks like. Sad.” Charles confided.
Royce tried to explain how she and her two husbands feel about each other, how their families are truly extended families of each other, and how lucky she is to have such a beautiful relationship with both of them. “So, if I came to visit you in LA, where would I fit in?” He laughed out loud and assured her he was only kidding. She actually thought about that and confirmed it was worth thinking about. “You, Charles, will be that piece of the puzzle that might not have any complimentary piece to fit into.” she continued, “You were a private memory, Charles.” Charles was silent. Don’t be annoyed, he told himself. She was also private throughout his former life.
By the end of the first hour, they were like any couple out for a walk; the sea breeze that defines Long Island blanketed them with a chill and a need to find shelter. They were getting hungry; they’ve been walking and talking for a little over an hour. Restaurants in Cherry Grove were the mainstay of this village, many were not less than four star and many were not under the four-dollar-Ed symbols. He will insist on covering the tab, and their order was most definitely a seafood retreat. So was their conversation that afternoon; a delightful retreat. She was sincerely interested in his teaching experiences; she loved teaching. It was what she started out to be when she first moved to California, even with a law background; that was for her father, teaching in California was for her. Earthquakes out west, hurricanes in the east; and the conversation ended in another quiet walk together on the beach after lunch.
The hours past pretty much how people age; quickly and with some regret of what was not said or done. For Charles, the visit ended with his thoughts focused mostly on today’s walks, conversation, shared lunch, and how the two of them “lived” together just for the hours just passed, and surprisingly, not for how it possibly revived 50 years of history. He needed to go home and take care of his dog, and she needed to return to her friend Allen, who most apparently wouldn’t have a second chance. They agreed that they both needed to remain in their present, not dwell in the past. Charles was comfortable with how this afternoon ended; not on a high note of more things to come, but rather for its closure.
Before he boarded the ferry, he insisted on driving her to the airport the next day; it was on Long Island so he convinced her it wasn’t out of his way. She resisted at first; she was afraid that her feelings, his feelings, when she left him at the airport, would prevent her from keeping focused on why she was here on Long Island, and what she needed to do as she traveled home with those planned detours still on her calendar. He told her that wasn’t the case, today was closure for him and hopefully for her as well. He just felt it would help her get to the airport with less hassle. A favor, that’s all. They agreed. He arrived early at the Sayville docks; her ferry hadn’t left Cherry Grove on its way back to the “main land”. He used that time to review; she did love him, and he loved her. But together, they accepted the fact that they both were private memories for each other.
Thirty minutes ferry ride, and she was welcomed ashore; luggage and Royce were in his car. There was a short but warm kiss. The 20-minute ride to the Islip airport was accomplished with minimal conversation. Short term parking, and a quick walk to the terminal. She asked him if he would mind if he got a gate pass so he could walk with her to the gate; she wanted to postpone saying goodbye. Such mixed emotions for both of them. As boarding started, she turned to him and smile with a tear, then hugged him deeply; he responded with the same emotions. She turned her face to see him, “I’m so very sorry this was such a short visit, Charles. I always dreamed that when we met again, we would have endless time to renew our promises to each other. I had no control over this visit’s length and there is so much more I need to do. Charles, you were more than just a private memory. Well, you were that, but you were also a very special memory that I would have given anything to try to renew. But that’s not possible now. Seeing you now was more than closure; it was my proof to you of my love for you. I needed to see you to show you that, to prove to you that you were always very special” He felt an upwelling of emotion renew itself. He had so many things he needed to ask; he needed to be with her at this moment. He replied, “To see you again, to touch you again, to kiss you again. This moment will last a life time, this moment will keep me company until we meet again. We had so many possibilities. I will miss you dearly.”
“I will miss you with my heart, my soul, every inch of my being, I do love you.” Charles said. “I too, Charles. I love you as much.” she whispered in his ear. They kissed deeply. Their tears moistened each other’s cheeks.
She turned to present her boarding pass to the agent; she entered the doorway to the boarding bridge. He started walking away from the busy counter to make room for other people saying goodbye. He turned seconds later and saw her walking deeper into the tunnel, then he turned to exit. She turned to see him walk away.
November 2003
Packing a home 3 stories tall with a couple of life times of junk to decided what to do with, that took guess work in knowing what to throw out, give away, or keep. He obviously didn’t succeed since he was still throwing things out after he arrived at his new home in Florida. Charles never figured out how to pack almost 6 decades of emotions, events, loves, family, friends, parents to be neglected at their grave sites, and favorite places. The one thing he didn’t have to pack, the one thing right now he missed the most, the box. On his drive down to Florida there was time to think, and no doubt he would have plenty of time to relive, not so much the first time he met Royce in college, but mostly the brief island visit he had with Royce a few months ago. It was that visit that helped put everything into perspective; things started making sense. It’s true what she told him, that he was ‘…a private memory.’ Charles may not have been so gracious with his memories of her, guys tend to be more demonstrative with their….Charles immediately stopped at that thought. What was Royce to Charles? A love that would be honored and adored for eternity. Or a story shared over a beer? Did he love her? How much did he love her? But what if, from Royce, it ended up as unrequited love? He’s been lied to before; words can be empty when offered in a rush to catch a plane. Was she only remembering a carefree moment of love, at a time when she was also being forced to pick a meaningful future by her father? What was possible, in Charles’s mind, was the likelihood that Royce would not have chosen him as her soul mate if given that choice.
He kept on throwing those ‘what ifs’ out there to see what made sense to him. ‘My life turned out okay,’ he thought, ‘I earned an average salary, left with a major portion of my pension untouched, fulfilled everyone’s dream to have retired from an occupation that I loved and will miss, and now to have a future that was now mine to create from scratch. To find respect and finally gain validation for who I am.’ Charles’s new future began with a home that was not more than 1700 square feet, in a middle-class blue-collar neighborhood, that he was certain would have caused unending disappointment from his unsatisfied former spouse, but would it have been enough for Royce? As his thoughts were losing a battle with staying alert, driving through a vehicular wasteland, South Carolina, was brain numbing. He needed to stop and rest. It was time to find a place to put these thoughts to bed. As he began to feel sleep consume him, his final thoughts asked if Royce would have ever wanted to live with him?
