DONNA
Suddenly I was awake at 3:00 AM on a rainy night in November 2019 with vivid thoughts of Donna and our brief time together 57 years ago. I could not get back to sleep. So I got up and wrote these memories.
My friend, Hossein, and I would, when broke, would go to the diner next to the Mayflower Theater and have a 19-cent hamburger for dinner. The restaurant was at a dumpy little place next to the ancient movie house, in our small college town. On one such occasion, I noticed a young woman eating dinner alone at a corner table. She was petite. She seemed shy, looking down as she ate. I was immediately attracted to her.
The following evening, I went there alone. She was there, at the same table. I asked if I could share her table, though there were plenty of empty tables available. “Yes,” she said looking away with a whisper of a smile. She asked if I ate there frequently, noting that I had been there the night before. I told her that I only ate there when broke. I’m sure I did not tell her that I had come on that evening in hopes of finding her there. Our small talk turned more personal. I told her of my life as an architectural student while working two jobs which left no time for anything else. She told me she was married but lived alone because her husband had enlisted in the air force and was stationed in Texas. After lingering in conversation, well past the time it took to eat a hamburger, we agreed to have dinner together again the following evening.
The next evening we continued our conversation. She seemed lonely. I was lonely also. It was apparent that we shared a mutual attraction for one another. She told me that she lived in an apartment above the Theater. I told her that every night on my way home from the architectural studio, I ride my bike below her window. I asked if I could stop to see her on my way home that evening. She agreed.
Her studio apartment was tiny. There was one chair and the bed for seating We talked at length and eventually found ourselves snuggled together on her bed. Although I was 21, I was very naive about women. My understanding was that women did not desire sex in the way men did. So though we eventually wound up under the covers, I did not attempt to have intercourse with her. Those were very different times, before “the pill”. In the morning we agreed that I could come again that night. As I was going out the door she quietly said “Bring protection when you come tonight”. I smiled and walked away wondering what she could have meant. As I was walking to campus, it dawned on me. My step became light as I realized what she was asking. But then, that meant that I would have to stop at the drugstore and buy them. I could not imagine how one does that. I recited what I would say to the clerk. I imagined the man behind the counter would smile knowingly and ask “What size?” Not having any idea how to respond, I decided to respond “King size”. King size cigarettes were just becoming the rage at that time. That afternoon I finally got up my courage to go into the drugstore. I went up to the counter and a pretty young woman, my age, stepped forward and asked “May I help you?” It was too late to run. There were no other drugstores near campus. I looked away and said “a package of condoms please.” She was all business and surprisingly casual as she asked “Do you want a three pack or twelve?” I took three, not having enough money nor expectation of need for twelve.
We slept together every night for the next few weeks. As time passed she and I became very close. As I look back over my life, there are regrets. Things I did that I should not have done. But more, things I didn’t do which I wish I had done. One of these lifelong regrets involved Donna. Donna was taking a bath. I went to bed. After a while, she called out to me and asked if I would come to scrub her back. It was a simple request that called on me to show how much I cared by sharing this intimate, human activity. I have no idea, now, and never have understood, why I answered, “I’m in bed already.”
Our romance was wonderfully caring and yet there was no sense that we had a future. This became painfully clear when, one Sunday morning, Donna and I were lingering in bed when the phone rang. She took the call and turned away. She spoke with great affection to the other person. It was her husband. At that moment it became clear that her love was for her husband and that I was only a a temporary companion. About a week later, when I arrived at her apartment at around 9:00 PM, I found her apartment cluttered with sealed boxes. She had been packing. She told me “I am moving to Texas tomorrow”. “You won’t be able to see me off because my family will be at the train station.”
The next morning, at the time the train was to depart, I waited on campus at a spot among the fir trees from which I could see the train tracks. Donna’s train passed heading south. I was left confused and feeling empty. How could something so beautiful end so quickly? Certainly, it was love that I felt for Donna. I thought she felt the same way for me. And yet it was a greater love that called her to Texas. And while I knew, from the beginning, it could not be a forever thing, it took a long time for me to get over losing what Donna and I had shared.
Epilog:
Ten years later, I was teaching at the University of Kansas and living with my future wife. It was evening. I was working alone at my desk when the phone rang. A woman’s voice said “This is Donna.”. I didn’t recognize the voice or the name. “Donna Huntington” she said “Don’t you remember me?” “Oh yes.” I replied recognizing a familiar name but not being able to place it.
“I have been wanting to talk with you Tod.” she said. At a loss for what to say, I asked “How are you doing?”. “A lot has happened in my life since you and I were together.” She replied. “I had two children. Boys. I had a terrible automobile accident. It was my fault. One of our boys survived. My body is deformed and I lost the use of my legs. I get around in a wheelchair. My husband left me and took our son.” There was a long pause. I mumbled something about how badly I felt for her situation. She said. “ I shouldn’t have interrupted your life. I better go. Goodbye Tod.” Click.
Over the years, I have made several attempts to locate her. I contacted every person in our hometownn who with her maiden name. None knew of a Donna.
Copywrite November 2020, by Theodore “Tod” Lundy, Architect