Taking Control of Your Life

      Cliff agreed to every demand in the settlement. My lawyer was astounded. I wasn’t, because what I wanted most, was Cliff. Not only did I want him, almost every woman he met, wanted him.

 All the other guys were ordinary compared to Cliff. That’s the strange part, because I was the tomboy of Dumont. No tits, no hips, I guess the best word describing myself was pixie. I took the word to define my small stature, not that I looked like a gnome. All my life people thought I looked much younger than my age. None of the guys at Dumont High seemed interested in me, but Cliff was.

 I just came from gym class, my brown hair slicked and straight from the shower; I was running to make a class when I bumped into him.

“Oh. I’m…I’m—sorry,” I stammered.

 He grabbed me by both arms and smiled. The most wonderful smile I ever saw. Perfect white teeth and the most beautiful blue eyes. His thick blond hair cut in short waves with the creamiest skin. He was wearing his Lettermen jacket as the captain of the football team and hero of Dumont.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Pat…err, huh Patricia,” I managed to say.

“I’ve seen you around campus, would you go with me to the dance this Saturday, Pat?” His smile burned right into my heart.

 I stammered again, but managed to squeak a “Yes!” out. My next yes was on our wedding day.

I had a perfect life. Cliff’s family was quite rich, and Cliff had all the breaks a wealthy family could provide. Not that he couldn’t make it on his own, he wasn’t a dummy by any means. In fact, I would say that he was a lot smarter then most men I’ve met. Quite a bit smarter in fact, with his good looks, charm, his family’s connections, Cliff rose fast in the business world and we were flying high: a condo in New York, a flat in London, our Malibu mansion, on the who’s who list and everybody wanting us at their gala events. Even presidents called and sent their thank you’. The sex was pretty damn good too. Cliff had it all and knew it.

I loved him too. I didn’t want to fall in love with him.  Not at first, he was a god after all, and I was but a mortal woman. I couldn’t believe that he would want me. At first, I thought it was a prank, a cruel joke that was going to spring on me like a jack-in-the-box. No bozo jumped out though, still there was something that wasn’t quite right. It was too perfect, something I didn’t think about until he asked for divorce.

“I want a divorce,” he said one day.

I really can’t remember the day very well; the whole event became mind numbing. I said, “Pardon?” Thinking I either didn’t hear him or that a knock-knock joke flew over my head.

“I’m serious Pat, I want a divorce.” The words slapped me repeatedly—I want a divorce.

When my heart stopped pounding in my throat and the world stopped moving for a moment, I asked him. “Why? What did I do?”

He looked out the window at our garden, where on a fountain’s edge birds bathed in contentment and said, “I haven’t been truthful with you, Pat.”

 For the first time, I saw sadness in his eyes. No more questions accepted and none answered.

  For weeks, no months—I stumbled, cried, thought about dying. I did die in a way. I stopped believing in happiness, god for another and the last thing I stopped believing in myself. I finally said yes, one last time, to the divorce.

It’s been a struggle, no question about it. Psychiatry, group therapy, a fling or two with other men, in the end though, when alone, there was Cliff. My memories of so many happy times, so many good times, would crawl under my skin and grab my soul in gut wrenching fury. I would lay on the bed knowing that nothing, no amount of money, or place, or thing would ever make me whole again, without the one person I loved; Cliff.

The idea came in a magazine article I read while waiting at the dentist’s office. “Take Control of Your Life”. It’s so simple really. You don’t like something? You need to take action to correct the problem.

I hired an investigator, a private eye who tracked Cliff. Who was he seeing, what was going on with him? I wanted answers and I got them.

It certainly made things clear to me. Pieces of the puzzle began to fit together; I now could make plans, take control of what I wanted and how to get it. I began to feel a lot better about myself, and in some ways, a lot wiser too.

Now, after great expense and I might say, a lot of discomfort, I’m new again. It’s amazing what they can do nowadays, incredible how far medical science has progressed. I had no idea when I first ventured on my project, other than from girlfriends who came back from vacationing in Europe, looking quite young and different. Clara’s beak turned into, cute-as-can-be button nose. Margie’s lop-sided-pear-shaped body now sported to-die-for breasts with a tight round butt. Amazing what doctors can do. I am now, another medical wonder no longer the pixie.

The sleuth I hired gave me quite a bit of information. I chatted with Cliff on an Internet singles chat room; we hit it off pretty well and exchanged photos. There was Cliff lying nude on a burgundy velvet bedspread. A wink in his eye and that wonderful smile; I should know. I took the picture of him long ago. What’s more, he liked my ‘new me’ pictures—a lot.

We exchanged more e-mails and more photos. I wanted to make sure. Absolutely sure he knew what I looked like. He said the e-mails were like corresponding with a close friend he once had, and wanted to talk with me on the phone. What a thrill it was to hear his voice again.

Cliff wanted to meet. We decided on a bar in the city, The Blue Dot Lounge. He would wear his Lettermen jacket; in the course of our e-mails, he said he was the captain of the football team and I said, “Do you have a Lettermen jacket?” Memories flooded my thoughts of so many years ago when I first bumped into him.

“Yes!” he said, and then I replied if he would wear the jacket, so I could recognize him. I told him my hair was short and blond, and I’ll wear a blue sweater.

I came early to the Blue Dot. It must be a popular watering hole, there were quite a few people milling about.

 The bartender came over to where I sat and said, “Can I see some I.D. please?”

“Sure,” I said fumbling with my wallet; I showed him my driver’s license.

“Thank you, can I get you a drink?”

“Not right now, thanks.”

A man next to me at the bar said, “Let me buy you a drink.”

“No thanks, I’m waiting for a friend.” I noticed that the bartender winked at the man who offered to buy my first drink.

 Checking the clock behind the bar, I figured Cliff should be coming through the door any minute. My heart began to race with each move of the second hand. When I turned back to the door there stood Cliff. I smiled and he smiled back walking over to where I sat.

“Pat?” Cliff said.

“The one and only, and you must be Cliff, what a great jacket.” I said.

“Well… it’s been a few years since I last wore it.” His eyes sparkled while his face glowed with a bright smile.

“The jacket fits perfectly. May I buy you a drink?” My heart raced standing so close to him.

“Sure, I’ll have a martini, up with an olive. You look younger than your pictures.”

Winking at him I said, “The bartender checked my I.D. when I came in. I get that a lot.”

“I bet you do,” he said, winking back.

I ordered the drinks pulling my wallet out and after we toasted our meeting, I said, “So Cliff, how come a good looking guy like you, hasn’t settled down?

“I came out late in life. I had a wife at one time, but realized that all along— I was gay. Guess I have a lot of catching up to do.”

“Maybe we both have a lot of catching up to do. Let’s toast to catching up, shall we?” He smiled and we clinked our glasses to another toast.

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