Resolve: To Reach a Firm Decision About
by Jack Kimball
We'd been dating for about five months when Linda looked at me with a final decision in her eyes, resolute firmness in her voice, and said, "I can't see you anymore." She was standing in the foyer of her tiny single mom house, her five-year-old son Blake sleeping in the other room. I was getting ready to leave and putting on my cool single man's p-coat, collar turned up. I was thirty-seven and never married. Linda was thirty-nine, recently divorced, and married twice. I say resolute firmness because she was firm and resolute every time-- every time she told me to get lost over the six months or so we'd been dating. Like always, her expression was cold, stubborn, and exasperating. I knew it was an expression that came from the pain of two failed marriages and a five-year-old innocent boy to protect. A boy who had just lost another father to divorce. Five-year-old boys don't understand divorce I imagined. All they know is their heart is broken because they lost their dad.
This time was different though because I'd given up. I had decided she was damaged goods. "Ok, if that's how you feel. If you think it's best", I said, deciding the effort of dating her wasn't worth it. Inside, anger and adrenaline were spiking in my stomach. This was so unfair, I thought. But I kept the feelings to myself and simply raised the wall inside that closed off that area where I allowed myself to care-- like I'd done so many times before with other woman. I knew Linda would never know I was so frustrated. I would simply thank her for the evening and walk out. But I knew once I’d left, we'd never date again.
Linda said, "This isn't going to work. You're too green."
I turned to go but first I looked around. The house was so small I didn't know how Linda, Blake, and their cat managed it. The place was worn out with carpet all scratched up from the cat and shabby furniture in the kitchen and living room. Piles of scattered mail were on the kitchen counter under the wall phone. I looked over at the mail. Most of it was un-opened junk mail. I thought it curious that bills were mixed in and un-opened also. The phone bill. The water bill. One looked like a mortgage envelope. Piles of unorganized mail seemed odd as the place was small but also clean. No dirty dishes, no clutter, only this pile of dozens of pieces of mail haphazardly stacked on the counter seemed out of character, some of it opened, most of it not. The pile of mail was such a flaw. It struck me how I loved Linda's flaws even more than her perfections. I needed to be brave for us both. I looked back at Linda and said, "I'll pick you up tomorrow at six. We have dinner reservations remember?" Linda looked at me and I could see a very small break in her eyes where the resolve was just so slightly broken, just so slightly warmer.
So I left that night in my cool p-coat and knew I was ready to marry Linda, if she’d have me, and take on a five-year-old boy. But I also knew I could never tell that to Linda because she wouldn't believe me. Only the patience of my behavior over time would prove it. Nothing such a big deal. Going to work every day. Being loyal. Being a father who doesn't leave. Looking back twenty-one years later though, it turned out I got the better bargain. I was the one who ended up being saved.
END