Italian affair. But when his number got called, we had two weeks. Two weeks to pack in all the memories that we could because suddenly all of our plans were now uncertainties. So, we found a justice of the peace and with our parents’ blessings got married.”
She smiled at the photo again, lightly outlining the curve of James’ jaw.
“He was a hottie, wasn’t he?” I nodded, wanting to laugh at her using the phrase ‘hottie’, but at the same time, I had to agree with her.
“We were childhood sweethearts. I had known him since elementary school. We would walk to school together. One day in high school he reached for my hand. I know that probably sounds strange in today’s world, but that one gesture was as romantic and thrilling as any ‘hook up’ you kids could muster up.”
I tried to act as if I wasn’t affected by her story, but I could picture them, in black and white. I could see him shyly reaching for her hand. Her gasp of surprise and a sweet smile, encouraging him. Sigh. I wished that was more like what dating was like today.
“It took him another year to get up the nerve to kiss me, and it was the sweetest, most gentle moment of my life. We were eighteen when we got married. Only eighteen. We were scared to death, and as I look back, we were just babies. But he was adult enough to go fight for our country. So we were adult enough to get married. That night was our first time.”
I looked at her with shock. She’d held off that long? I mean, I was willing to jump Nick on the steps day one. She had held off for years ?
“I know, I know.” Laughter filled her voice. “Not quite the norm today. But you have to realize, back then, only ‘loose women’ would have sex before marriage. It wasn’t done. There was not abundantly free supplies of birth control back then. So we waited. And waited.”
She stopped talking and sort of stared off, looking nowhere in particular. A slow smile formed on her lips as she started stirring the zeppole batter again.
“I’m not going to give you the details because I don’t kiss and tell. But it was sweet and wonderful that one night we shared. Every dream I had ever had was coming true, and that night couldn’t have been more perfect.”
She grabbed a pan and added some oil, then turned it on to get it hot.
“The next day he left me. He left me for Uncle Sam. I was devastated and so proud of him at the same time. I stood there waving at him, with a big smile on my face as he loaded the bus that would take him away. We both had tears streaming down our faces, but big smiles. We put our plans on hold, our honeymoon would take place when he returned. Two months later I wrote him a letter to tell him that I was pregnant with his baby. I heard from him four weeks later, how excited he was to come home to his family.”
I leaned forward on the counter, my mind completely lost to this story. I wasn’t watching her make Italian pastries anymore, I was watching her, decades earlier, sending the love of her life away on a bus.
“A while went by without contact, but that wasn’t too unusual in those days. We didn’t have email or that video phone talking thing. We had letters. Those letters had to go overseas during a war. So, I didn’t think too much about it, I knew he would come home. We had plans and we were going to have a baby. I was so young. So very young and stupid. When I saw a car pull up and two men walk up my steps, I was excited! Maybe my James was going to come home early. When I opened the door, the look on their faces was cold. I don’t remember what they said. What I remember is waking up four days later in a sterile hospital room.”
Her breath shuddered as she spoke. Her face had gone a little pale. I reached over and took her hand only to find it had gone cold and was slightly trembling.
“The doctor was happy to see that I had woken, but it was his job to tell me. Not only had I lost my James, I had also lost our son. I had lost all
She smiled at the photo again, lightly outlining the curve of James’ jaw.
“He was a hottie, wasn’t he?” I nodded, wanting to laugh at her using the phrase ‘hottie’, but at the same time, I had to agree with her.
“We were childhood sweethearts. I had known him since elementary school. We would walk to school together. One day in high school he reached for my hand. I know that probably sounds strange in today’s world, but that one gesture was as romantic and thrilling as any ‘hook up’ you kids could muster up.”
I tried to act as if I wasn’t affected by her story, but I could picture them, in black and white. I could see him shyly reaching for her hand. Her gasp of surprise and a sweet smile, encouraging him. Sigh. I wished that was more like what dating was like today.
“It took him another year to get up the nerve to kiss me, and it was the sweetest, most gentle moment of my life. We were eighteen when we got married. Only eighteen. We were scared to death, and as I look back, we were just babies. But he was adult enough to go fight for our country. So we were adult enough to get married. That night was our first time.”
I looked at her with shock. She’d held off that long? I mean, I was willing to jump Nick on the steps day one. She had held off for years ?
“I know, I know.” Laughter filled her voice. “Not quite the norm today. But you have to realize, back then, only ‘loose women’ would have sex before marriage. It wasn’t done. There was not abundantly free supplies of birth control back then. So we waited. And waited.”
She stopped talking and sort of stared off, looking nowhere in particular. A slow smile formed on her lips as she started stirring the zeppole batter again.
“I’m not going to give you the details because I don’t kiss and tell. But it was sweet and wonderful that one night we shared. Every dream I had ever had was coming true, and that night couldn’t have been more perfect.”
She grabbed a pan and added some oil, then turned it on to get it hot.
“The next day he left me. He left me for Uncle Sam. I was devastated and so proud of him at the same time. I stood there waving at him, with a big smile on my face as he loaded the bus that would take him away. We both had tears streaming down our faces, but big smiles. We put our plans on hold, our honeymoon would take place when he returned. Two months later I wrote him a letter to tell him that I was pregnant with his baby. I heard from him four weeks later, how excited he was to come home to his family.”
I leaned forward on the counter, my mind completely lost to this story. I wasn’t watching her make Italian pastries anymore, I was watching her, decades earlier, sending the love of her life away on a bus.
“A while went by without contact, but that wasn’t too unusual in those days. We didn’t have email or that video phone talking thing. We had letters. Those letters had to go overseas during a war. So, I didn’t think too much about it, I knew he would come home. We had plans and we were going to have a baby. I was so young. So very young and stupid. When I saw a car pull up and two men walk up my steps, I was excited! Maybe my James was going to come home early. When I opened the door, the look on their faces was cold. I don’t remember what they said. What I remember is waking up four days later in a sterile hospital room.”
Her breath shuddered as she spoke. Her face had gone a little pale. I reached over and took her hand only to find it had gone cold and was slightly trembling.
“The doctor was happy to see that I had woken, but it was his job to tell me. Not only had I lost my James, I had also lost our son. I had lost all
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