Chapter 2

On a Friday two weeks after my divorce was final, I started my day at a fertility clinic, checking on their installation. Suddenly, I saw “Lorelei” on a patient chart. I felt the same bolt of pain and it was only by the barest of margins that I avoided spewing. Of course it wasn’t her, but I’ve never known another Lorelei, which wasn’t surprising. Her parents had picked the name because it was number 1000 on Social Security’s list of the top 1000 names for girls. I’d never been as low as I was at that moment.

I’d never known it was possible to be so depressed or so alone. The only person in Texas who knew where I was, was Mr. Murdock. Thinking about it, I guess even he didn’t know exactly where I was. Because although I’d made him swear not to tell anyone, he thought I was in Pittsburgh. I was actually living a mile from the King of Prussia Mall near Philadelphia.

It was a cold wintry day, but I wasn’t really aware of it, my soul was darker and colder.

“I’m going to die in a couple of months if I don’t get a heart transplant. I’m not depressed, what’s your excuse?”

I turned around, and I blinked.

There in front of me, was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. How could anyone’s smile be both dazzling and inviting? You’ve heard the expression “she had inner glow?” This woman did, its effect was ethereal. I can’t say that suddenly there was color in the world again, but for the first time since Dallas, I knew color existed.

Have you ever had a private meeting with someone great? I mean like the President or the Pope, someone like that? I met the Pope once, before he was the Pope. I’m not Catholic, but my parents, Lorelei, and her mother were “doing” Italy shortly after her father was killed. We were touring the Vatican and although we weren’t Catholic, Lorelei’s father’s family had some sort of connection to him. I suppose because of the manner her father had been killed, a nameless family member thought it might help to have a private meeting. I don’t know a thing about the man’s dogma or doctrine, but I do know that he had a special aura about him.

I felt the same thing about this woman and was wondering why, when, still smiling she said, “I’m going to let you take me to dinner tonight. You can pick me up at 6:30 and I’ll tell you where we’re going then. That will give you time to prioritize you demons and we can begin slaying them one by one.”

I think it’s the English who use the expression “gobsmacked.” I’m not sure exactly what it means, but that’s the way I felt.

“Why on Earth would you want to have dinner with me?” I blurted before I could get my brain engaged.

“Why, because you’re quite the most interesting man I’ve met in ages, and no one should look as desolate, as forlorn, as you do on such a crisp new day. Look at how blue the sky is! We haven’t seen that color in months. That’s the promise of new life, of Spring. You’re at a place where life begins. How can you help but feel the joy of that new birth?”

Frankly, I’d thought the place depressing, all those couples so desperate to have a kid, clutching at this last exorbitant shot. I later wondered why I knew she wasn’t married, and that she was here as a patient, but at the time all I could do was say, “I don’t think I’ll be good company, but I’d love to take you to dinner.”

She cranked a few hundred more megawatts into her smile and in the kindest voice said, “Thank you so much, I didn’t want to eat alone tonight.”

As impossible as it seems I knew that she was grateful, that even though the privilege was mine she didn’t see it that way. I was about to ask her name when the nurse said, “Cindy Ahren, we’re ready for you now?”

Suddenly, she grabbed my hand, her grip was fierce, lowered her head, closed her eyes and mumbled something I couldn’t hear. A dozen heartbeats later she — embraced me — I don’t know a better word, it wasn’t a hug and it wasn’t passionate, but it was as intimate as making love, and she left.

I watched her leave and it took several seconds to realize that while I knew her name, I didn’t know how to contact her. I could look it up in the clinic’s computer, but that was a horrible breach of ethics. Besides, I’d finished my call and I didn’t actually have an excuse to start probing.

Frozen in indecision I smiled, involuntarily, when Cindy burst back out the door and said, “A-H-R-E-N, I’m the only Cindy Ahren in the book, I think I’m the only Cindy Ahren in the world” and she was gone again.

Think of the clichés, “The weight of the world had been lifted off my shoulders.” “The clouds of gloom had parted.” “There was a new bounce in my step.” Well the weight had been lifted, the gloom had parted and I did leave with a new bounce in my step.

Even the office seemed different. People were smiling at me, and I don’t remember anyone doing that before. My MS Outlook showed a dozen calls I needed to return and even more e-mails. The first time I was put on hold, I used the time to find Cindy. I’d been intrigued by her comment and I discovered that Yahoo people search only showed 43 Ahrens in the whole country.

I’d just found her name and was copying her address and number when my boss popped into my cubical and asked if I would come by his office for a few minutes when I got off the line.

When I arrived, he asked me to close the door and said, “Chris, first let me tell you that you’re doing a great job. Even in this group of prima donnas, your work stands out, but I need to ask a hard question.

“One of the reasons I hired you was that you listed several interesting awards you got in high school. I won’t say that all of us were geeks in school, but I expected to be able to move you into a sales engineer slot. Like I said, your work here makes you a valuable member of our team, so I don’t care if you used some puffery when you filled out your application, but I would like to know why.”

It took me a few seconds to understand that he thought I’d made up the Mr. PHS and Prom King. Frankly, I didn’t remember putting that on my resume, and I can’t imagine why I did.

“Those are true, I suppose I could get my mother to mail my old high school year book, if you’d like.”

His eyes narrowed, “Chris, I know you’re brilliant, but you’ve never shown any hint of the sort of people skills that I’d expect from someone who was popular in high school...”

His voice trailed off and before I was aware of it, the story of Lorelei and me, came bubbling out, but I never said her name. Even so, it hurt, I did everything but weep. When I’d finished I could see the sympathy in his eyes. I wasn’t sure I wanted it, but I felt better.

“You’ve never spoken to her at all?”

“It wouldn’t make any difference. She never called me, but even if I could forgive her, how I could never trust her. I didn’t think it was possible for her to lie to me, and yet she was able to have an affair and I didn’t have a clue. How do I know she wasn’t back at his room for more? She might still be rutting with him, I just know that if she cheated once she could do it again.”

I snorted, “Besides, if just reading her name gives me a migraine, what do you think talking to her would do to me?”

He didn’t offer me the sales job, and he didn’t mention getting professional help, but in the material he gave to look over was a copy of our health care coverage. The section on counseling coverage was highlighted. There was also a sheet that told me what I’d make if could earn the position. I was stunned. I had no idea salesmen made that kind of money.

The rest of the day was one of the strangest of my life. I’d been operating on autopilot for so long that I had trouble doing the simplest task. If you’ve ever seen one of those old movies where they show double images to indicate a fellow’s drunk, I think that’s something like I was experiencing. Everything was familiar, and new at the same time.

As soon as I could get away, almost six, I rushed home and didn’t have time to give my grooming more than a lick and a promise before I was driving to Cindy’s. Even so, I was a few minutes late when I rang her apartment and she buzzed me in. It was on the fourth floor, and as I rode the elevator it suddenly dawned on me that I was going on a date, and I still hadn’t asked a girl out.

The thought sent an icy chill through me, in fact I might not have gotten off the elevator if Cindy hadn’t been standing right in front of it when the doors opened. I took one look at her and exclaimed, “My God, you’re beautiful!”

When she smiled I noticed for the first time that she had three dimples, one on each side and the cutest little one on her chin. She lightly tapped my nose with her index finger, “My dear Chris, you should never use the Lord’s name when you’re fibbing. It makes it into a whole different category of sin you know. Besides, I’m not sensitive about how I look. The puffiness and splotchy skin are effects of my heart. I’m probably carrying ten or fifteen pound of excess fluid too, but I soooo appreciate your effort.”

She hooked her arm in mine and led me back into the elevator.

“I’m going to let you splurge tonight. You have your choice of where we’re going. There’s a wonderful family-style Italian place not far from here. But if you want to go first class, we can chow down on the most delicious hoagies and cheese-steaks in the city, that is if you’re up to it.”

The hard crust they use up here on their sub sandwiches is an acquired taste, so I automatically chose the Italian. But this was the second time she’d said something about her heart. I’d blown it off at the clinic, because who went to a fertility clinic if you needed a heart transplant.

I opened my mouth to ask but she shook her head gently and said, “Not yet Chris, wait until we’re at the restaurant, then we can swap life stories to see who can out-sad the other.” Her eyes did something that actually made them sparkle and with a gamin smile she continued, “Since the first liar never stands a chance, you have to go first.”

As we walked to my car we talked about nothing, sports I think, Cindy loved every one of the Philly teams, but hockey was her first love. I knew about as much about hockey as Cindy did about rodeo, a secret passion of mine. But as she talked about last night’s hockey game I hung on every word.

At the restaurant she drew me out between placing our orders and the arrival of the soup. For the second time I told my life’s story and tragedy. I even told her about my reaction to the name. I let her see my anger. I let her see my pain. Somehow, it didn’t hurt as much as it did earlier. Holding her hand across the checker tablecloth might have had something to do with it. I do know that when I got to the end, I felt better.

If this morning had been a dam bursting, telling Cindy was bathing my pain in a soothing balm. I hadn’t realized just how jagged, how raw, my wounds were until I felt her gentle probing. Gentle she was, but also persistent. She was a surgeon making sure that all the detritus that might prevent healing was cleaned out.

When she was finished scourging at the last of my malignancies, I sat back with a deep sigh. I felt better than I had since I walked into class that Friday afternoon. Besides, the meal had been the best Italian I’d ever had, no question about it, I needed to try some places other than “Olive Garden.” This stuff was good, even if I wasn’t sure what I’d eaten.

Cindy was leaning forward over the table, still holding my hand, her eyes glistened and if she hadn’t been smiling so broadly I’d have thought she was on the verge of tears.

I pulled myself together after she ordered some desert and said, “Now you’ve got my whole sad story, I need to know what all this talk about your heart is about. I need to know just what sort of girl I’m getting involved with...”

She interrupted me, “Oh, we’re getting involved are we? I suppose that means our next date you’ll have to take me home to meet your folks. This whole thing has to be killing them, ‘your ex’ was a daughter to them wasn’t she?”

Shouldn’t it take more to rip off a case-harden, tempered steel scab? But to my amazement, it had been done so quickly and skillfully it didn’t really hurt.

“Yeah, we both had three parents. We both called my mom, ‘Mom’ and her mother is ‘Momma.’ Dad is ‘Dad’ to both of us but hers was ‘Daddy’ to us both until he was killed.

“I haven’t talked to them since I got here, except once, they wanted me to see her and I just couldn’t. It really hurts to know that your own parents aren’t on your side. I’m not sure I’m welcome home...”

“We might wait a few weeks for the ‘meet the parents trip’ then. What did they say about the knife you left in her professor’s door?”

I blushed. I hadn’t meant to tell her that. I don’t know when I did it, but I’d driven my 5-inch-blade hunting knife to the hilt in his solid wood front door. Mr. Murdock told me it had, “caused him considerable mental anguish.” I guess it was a good thing he was in Dallas f•©king my wife at the time.

I felt bile forming in my mouth until I looked at Cindy and my anger just sort of leached away.

“That’s the last diversion, Cindy. I need to know about you ... everything about you. I don’t know how you’ve gotten me talking about myself like this, but I’m not saying another word until you let me hear your story.”

She gave me a lopsided smile. “A while ago I got my life long wish to do some work in sub-Sahara Africa. I managed to get some exotic dreadful. It’s attacking my heart. I’m suffering congestive heart failure, but it’s not a serious as I made it sound this morning.”

“So why were you at a fertility clinic?”

She blushed, “I want children and my prospects don’t look all that great. I’m right at the end point where I can take any sort of fertility drug to induce ovulation. I wanted some of my ovum on ice, just in case. This is so embarrassing, we’ve never kissed and here I am talking about babies.”

But she wasn’t blushing, she was smiling ... she just glowed.

“Are you really waiting for a heart?”

“Yeah, it’s a possibility, but I’m not very high on the list. At my age, I’ll move up quickly if it looks like that’s the only option. So what were you doing at the clinic? Are you on the list of anonymous donors I can pick from?”

I’ve never blushed much, but this time I turned a vivid shade.

“NO! I’m a computer nerd, I was just there checking on our security software. Part of my job is to make sure that those who want to be anonymous really are...” I started to say, “If I ever have kids, I want them the old-fashioned way,” when I realized that she wouldn’t have been there if there was much hope that she could ever do that.

I changed the subject with a few questions about hockey and the rest of the evening evaporated. Before I said goodnight we’d agreed to meet for breakfast. By the time I said goodnight on Saturday, I’d agreed to meet her at her church on Sunday.

I’ve never been a churchgoer. My father was a Presbyterian who got mad at some of the social positions of the church, and my mother was a non-active Lutheran. We went on Christmas and Easter. I went to confirmation class, but we spent most Sundays at soccer games or tournaments.

Even if I had been a regular, I would have been nervous about going to church with Cindy, she was preaching! She was actually Dr. Cindy Ahren, a fully ordained Methodist Elder. Her work in Africa had been as a teaching missionary in an African seminary. She also taught classes in pastoral theology at The Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia. At 29, she was by far the youngest teacher there, but even a blind man could see there was something special about her.

I’d “girded up my loins” to praise a sermon I couldn’t begin to follow. But instead of a sermon, she just talked about the role of hope in day-to-day living. She gave a few examples from her “real” job as a chaplain at the Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia. Children’s is the No. 2-ranked children’s hospital in the country, which means there are some pretty horrible cases there.