christinamguerrero.com ~ the official site ~
The First Time
Copyright 2016, 2020 Christina M. Guerrero
DEDICATION
This is for Caleb.
STORY BEHIND THE STORY
Imagining the perfect courtship and marriage. One can dream.
ABOUT THE DRAFTS
Nothing, yet.
The first time I saw my husband I was five and he was eighteen.
I was at Disneyland. My family and I had just entered the park. My future husband was whistling “Whistle While You Work” and sweeping the sidewalk just outside one of the stores on Main Street.
Dad had just entered the store with my older brother right behind him. Mom was next, holding my hand. She let go for a second and said, “Daniel, do you have change for a ten?”
I assumed they would stop and discuss this. I stopped, turned and sang along to my future husband’s whistling. He sang with me, but did not look at me. I laughed at the simple joy of the moment.
My future husband said, “Excuse me, young lady, or I’ll have to sweep you up with the litter.”
I stepped out of the way, to my left, looked up ....
And stared and stared and stared.
I gasped. I knew in my soul who he was.
He was tall: about six feet; slender yet big-boned; his shoulders were wide and knobby. His face was flat and rather narrow. He had light beige skin, light gray eyes and short light brown hair.
“Hello!” he said. “I remember you from last year. Remember you almost got lost?”
I nodded. Did he know how beautiful he was? Maybe he didn’t. Maybe I was the only one. Maybe I’d better mind my manners and not say anything.
He said, “You’d better hurry up. You’re about to lose them again.”
I didn’t want to go. Sadly, I walked toward Billy.
“Bye, Alice,” said the man.
I looked back at him, feeling sad.
He tipped an imaginary hat to me.
“How do you know my name?” I asked.
“You told me last year. You said ‘like Alice In Wonderland.’”
Billy appeared at my left side and messed up my hair. “Come on, sis.”
I said to the man, “I don’t know your name.”
He said, “Can you read yet?”
“Yes.”
“This is my name.” He pointed to his name tag.
I said, “Nelson. Nice to meet you, Nelson.”
He extended a big hand. “And it’s nice to officially meet you, too.”
When we shook hands my heart sped up and raced. I felt excited and scared. He shook once and let go, and I felt both relieved and disappointed.
Billy said, “You saved the day again. Thanks.”
“Happy to be of assistance. I hope you have a happy day.” Nelson tipped his imaginary hat again, smiled, and exited the store.
* * * * *
The third time I saw my husband I was twelve and he was twenty-five.
I was at Disneyland with my friends for a summer visit.
As we walked along Main Street looking for a late morning snack, I heard a familiar voice: a gentle tenor that was a part of my soul, and always had been. I turned to my right, turned a bit more and there he was, in a gray suit, dark gray tie, and brand-new gray saddle shoes. He was talking to a group of men and women with instruments.
He noticed me. He squinted, smiled at me, then addressed the little crowd. Everyone went different ways, and Nelson walked toward me.
I felt excited and scared again.
He smiled and turned red. “Why, if it isn’t Alice all grown up.”
I said, “How do you know me? I have not seen you since I was five.”
“I’ve seen you a couple of times since then. But I’ve been busy so I couldn’t always run over and say hello.”
I said, “Did you get promoted?”
“Yes, I did. I’ve been a supervisor for a while. I love the company. Will probably stick with it as long as all sides are agreeable with the arrangement.”
He studied the ground.
I thought rather vainly that perhaps he was informing me of his economic reliability for future reference. Then I pushed that aside. He probably had a lot of girlfriends. And why did it matter? I was only twelve.
Something on him crackled. He lifted a walkie-talkie and exchanged a few words with someone, then said, “Alice. Perhaps we could talk again today? I’ll take a break at about six p.m. If you’re still here, perhaps you and your friends would like to join me and my friends for dinner.”
I waved at my friends and proposed this. We all agreed to it.
Several hours later, after lunch and many rides and laughter and taking photos, we arrived at a cafe on Main Street. Nelson was with a small group of people of a variety of ages. There were introductions then we went in and sat and ordered.
We ate burgers and fries and chatted. I was excited to learn more about Nelson, and see how he interacted with others: patiently, with kindness, and with light humor.
The conversation was pleasantly neutral and mostly G-rated with a few minor comments about current events, but without anything overly disagreeable.
When we finished, we went into the cool evening. Nelson and I fell behind, walking slowly; he abruptly moved to the street side of the sidewalk.
“To protect,” he said, with another blush.
“Thanks.”
“So,” he said. “I think you are still quite young.”
“Yes. Twelve.”
He continued to turn red.
I said, “It’s nice talking to you. In older times, girls were chaperoned until a certain age. I think we could chat and be friends with others around.”
“I was thinking the same.”
I felt warm and happy. But how long would this last? Perhaps one or both of us would lose interest.
I said, “In person would be best for me. Chat once a week or what works for us. I will check with my parents and see what they think.”
* * * * *
With others around, we did indeed get together about once a week: at a picnic, or at the beach; a museum or lunch; roller-skating or a class at one of the many colleges and universities in southern California.
It went well. There were kind words. We could talk about almost everything, including his dating. He said he was dating in order to socialize with others his own age, as well.
But one day when we had rare time alone, within sight but not earshot of my friends, I started crying.
“Alice? Alice, what’s wrong?” He kept his hands in his pockets, but got a bit closer.
“I’m just sad. What if you ... if you ....”
“If I ....?”
“If you fall in love with someone else?”
He frowned and studied the ground. “What if YOU do?”
I stopped crying. “I hadn’t thought about that.”
“It could happen to either one of us.”
We walked back to our friends.
He said, “Only three years to go.”
“Three years and five months.”
* * * * *
Years that went slowly. Yet they were years that saw the friendship grow stronger. We did date others of our own age, and I finished junior high and got through most of high school, and Nelson continued to supervise at Disneyland. We got together on group dates at the park and away from the park. Each time I saw him, I fell more in love, and counted the days until my eighteenth birthday.
By the time my birthday came around, we were close friends, and so were our friends with each other. We all planned a party at Disneyland.
* * * * *
The next time I saw my husband I was eighteen and he was thirty-one.
I and my friends were walking along Main Street at Disneyland on a sunny day.
Nelson was walking toward us. He wore light blue jeans, an off-white button-down shirt with a casual black tie, those gray saddle shoes, and a blush.
We had a long, fabulous day at the park. My heart was so happy that it hurt.
In the early evening, we stood near Sleeping Beauty castle.
“You’re finally old enough to kiss,” Nelson said.
“Yes.”
He got down on one knee and proposed.
“Yes,” I said.
And he finally kissed me.
* * * * *
The next time I saw my husband was three days before our wedding, at the hospital.
He had been in a car accident -- not his fault -- and was in traction, and was missing his left leg below the knee. He also had multiple broken bones, burn marks on his face, and lacerations on his hands.
As soon as he recognized me, he said, “Alice. We might have to postpone the wedding.”
I squeezed his right elbow. “Nelson. That’s the least of our worries.”
“We could get married in here. Just in case I don’t make it.”
“They said you don’t have any life-threatening injuries. And we can wait. I’d really like a wedding dance.”
“I’d like that, too.”
* * * * *
The next time I saw my husband, he was standing near a minister at a private canopied area at Disneyland, wearing his brand new prosthetic leg. He wore his dark gray wedding tuxedo and new gray saddle shoes and a blush as he observed my walk toward him.
We exchanged vows and rings, celebrated our marriage, and danced our first dance to “When You Wish Upon A Star.”
* * * * *
And from that day until the very last time I saw his dear face before he passed away, we enjoyed many years of a wonderful marriage.
~*~ END ~*~
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