I liked Holly from our first meeting. She was quite cute, with curly black hair, a gorgeous smile, and fabulously zaftig, but she also had a delightful sparkle in her deep brown eyes, and an embarrassed way of telling a dirty joke that was utterly charming. But to my twenty year old self, her most intriguing trait was that she said yes when I asked her out.

When I picked her up from her tiny one room house I brought her a gift: a goofy-looking, fifteen feet long hot pink plush snake. It was an irrational choice, but she previously mentioned liking stuffed animals and snakes both, and since I had seen this monstrosity at the mall, I gave it a shot. When I dragged it into the house she was taken aback, but amused, and — as she later admitted — a little touched by the naivety shown. The snake ended the night wrapped around her table, and we ended the night looking out her window at the moon. Holly believed in romance.

Two nights later she showed up at the little shop I managed, having called first to tell me she was picking up some Kentucky Fried Chicken for my dinner. She went straight into my office carrying a large wicker basket, and when I closed the store a short time later I found my office table cleared of papers. In their place was a red and white checkered tablecloth, china plates and crystal glasses, silverware, white candles, linen napkins, a chilled bottle of wine, and a bucket of the Colonel's best with all the sides. Holly believed in showing some class, even for fried chicken.

Our relationship progressed swiftly past the first "dinner and a movie" dates and into the "why yes, we're dating" stage. She became accustomed to my eccentricities as I became enamored of hers. Granted, we didn't go out all that much, as our low-paying jobs didn't afford us many options; we enjoyed staying in and listening to records more, anyway.

Soon we started spending weekends together, and our conversations turned toward the future; we both liked what we saw. We made plans on Sunday afternoons: I would go back to school and complete my degree, while she would start work on her master's degree. In a few years we would both be in better places career-wise and financially, and then we'd take the world by storm. Laying on the couch with jazz on the radio it seemed so straightforward.

Then I was fired from my job. I hadn't done anything wrong other than point out the things the owners needed to do to become competitive, but that was enough. It devastated me. I had never lost a job before, and I had bills to pay, and tuition to save, and a future to create. Holly was supportive, though, and tried to help me find a good job, but my fear of bankruptcy was too great. I ended up taking the first job that would have me — packing boxes in a warehouse. I didn't plan on staying there long, but I needed to get some money coming in so I could focus on finding something better.

Holly didn't approve of my decision. I was rushing to get a job, she said. I was too desperate, she said. I didn't see the big picture, she said. I wasn't ambitious enough, she said.

I wasn't the right person for her, she said. Let's be friends, she said.

Ten years later I ran into Holly at the Olive Garden. She'd changed, but I recognized her immediately — if her eyes hadn't given her away, her smile would have. I wasn't sure she saw me, though, until she approached me by the hostess stand.

The traditional pleasantries were exchanged, nothing extraordinary except her casual mention that her husband was in the men's room. "He's a dentist," she said, "a nice man. My mother approves." "I'm happy for you," I told her, and meant it. Then she leaned forward, quickly kissed me, told me she still thought of me from time to time, and then darted back to her table.

My date returned from the rest room and asked who the woman was. "Holly," I said. "I haven't seen her in years. I never expected to see her again."

Holly believed in bone china for fast food, and showing a little class. Holly believed in romance, and having love in her life. But Holly also believed in being practical, and planning for the future; Holly didn't believe in us.

[July 12, 2007]

There is now a follow-up to this story: Redemption.