And If You Don't Love Me Now, You Will Never Love Me Again...
Previously, Chapter 4: World Turning. I Gotta Get My Feet Back On The Ground...
While I was busy going job to job, car to car, and house to house, Susan remained the one consistent part of my life—an incredibly bright light in my otherwise complicated and darkened world.
I drove her to Sharon High School every morning her senior year, Monday through Friday. Some weeknights, we just hung out in her bedroom, devouring big bowls of chocolate chip ice cream while we watched TV on the cheap portable that sat high on the tall bureau that was part of her six-piece bedroom set, one that had been her parents'. Her bedroom was over the single-car garage under, and the hot water convector in her room sometimes froze on cold, windy winter nights, so they got Susan an electric blanket. It was always toasty warm under that blanket.
Because Susan's father's plumbing business phone number was the main phone in their house, and included an answering machine, one of the first of its kind, and needed to be available 24/7, they got Susan her own phone number and a Princess Phone. It was in her bedroom, on the night table nearest the front of the house. I spent hours talking to her on that phone, sometimes late at night, until she was almost asleep.
We watched Fantasy Island, Love Boat, and Little House on the Prairie, popular TV shows back then. It didn't matter what we watched; as long as I was with Susan, I was in a good place…
Susan's parents didn't mind that we shut the door to her bedroom; they trusted us. They knew we loved each other and that we had something very special.
At Susan's high school graduation (1977), I sat with her mother and father. When she walked across the auditorium stage to receive her diploma, I gave her the loudest wolf whistle in the history of high school graduations. When the crowd cheered, Susan smiled so wide you couldn't see her eyes, only two slits. Those incredible smiles, the ones that closed her eyes completely, were her happiest smiles…
After she graduated, we had another great summer together. For the second year in a row, the Fourth of July celebration at her house was as good as it gets, and we spent weekends with our toes in the sand, working on our tans at a bunch of different Massachusetts beaches.
I bought a second-hand bike at Western Auto in Canton at Cobb's Corner so I could go biking around Lake Massapoag with Susan a few times a week. She hated running, but loved biking. Sometimes we rode past Ames Estate (Borderland State Park) to an area where several dogs roamed the neighborhood unleashed. We called it "dog alley", and Susan didn't like it when the dogs approached her. There were times I had to get off my bike and chase a dog or two away. Eventually, we stopped riding down "dog alley".
Susan's father was a Plumber, and he wanted her to go to a four-year college like her older sister, but Susan had other plans. She was determined to go to Fisher Junior College (Boston) to earn her Associate's Degree in Early Childhood and become a nursery school teacher. She loved kids. And that's exactly what she did.
I helped her move into a dorm at 101 Beacon Street, just a stone's throw from the Public Gardens. The rear balcony provided a clear view of Storrow Drive and the Charles River.
Susan's roommate her first year was the daughter of the owner of a small trash company in Connecticut. The two of them joked that they were paired together because Linda's father drove a garbage truck and Susan's father was a plumber. There weren't many other girls in the dorm with blue-collar dads who had dirty jobs.
At the time, I had gone from reconditioning cars to selling men's shoes at Filenes in Braintree. I lived in a bungalow by Lake Massapoag until a flood forced me into an in-law apartment on Pond Street closer to the center of town, just before the Blizzard of '78. I was starting to look less and less like a good catch, and more like a college dropout who didn't have a promising future…
As I pulled away from the dorm, I became concerned that some rich college kid with a good pickup line would steal Susan away from me. She was beautiful, had an incredible smile, and was easy to talk to. I figured you had to be blind not to notice how special she was. I became paranoid, afraid my dream would end, and the bright light that had illuminated my world for the past two years would be gone.
Then, our phone calls started getting shorter and less frequent, and her friends at the dorm took her out barhopping. She was in college in Boston and wanted to have fun. I became the green-eyed boyfriend who didn't want her to leave the dorm. She countered. If she couldn't go out, I couldn't go out with my friends, including to the original Town Spa for a pizza and a beer. Our relationship was deteriorating, suffocating us, and it wasn't healthy…
Occasionally, her mother would pick her up in Boston, and she'd come home to Sharon to do laundry. We'd spend the weekend together doing everything we used to do. We'd go to Sorrento's for dinner and see a movie at the Norwood Cinema, and when we did, it was like we hadn't skipped a beat.
One Friday night, I picked her up in Boston. I double-parked in front of her dorm, and she came out with a duffle bag full of laundry. Her smile wasn't as wide, and I could feel the tension the moment she got in the car.
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We didn't talk much on the way home, and it was very different when we did. I started thinking she was in college, living in Boston, having a great time with new friends, and must've met somebody at a party or bar. I was her high school sweetheart, but she was in college now, and appeared to be moving on, and there was nothing I could do about it. I was starting to accept that we would be breaking up very soon…
After a long, uncomfortable silence, we heard a loud pop that came from under the car. I looked at Susan, and she looked at me. At first, we weren't sure what had happened. I was hoping I ran over a cup, but I had run over something a bit more damaging.
I immediately pulled out of the heavy traffic and onto the narrow shoulder, where I discovered a 16-penny common nail had pierced my passenger side rear tire, and I had a flat. I grabbed the jack and the spare out of the trunk, wondering if Susan still loved me or if this was how it was gonna end…
And if you don't love me nowYou will never love me againI can still hear you sayingYou would never break the chain (never break the chain)
To be continued…