When Dark Comes At Six

It was a frigid evening in December, with clouds so low that car lights reflected in the sky.  It was Thursday, too, which was my day off and also payday. I'd meant to get my check, but had fallen asleep and now it was getting late. It was after 4 by then, though the blank grey sky made it seem even later

I had to go, and quick. I was wearing a thin cotton dress, seafoam green with pink flowers. Perhaps it seems an odd choice for the season, but I was very young then and gauche, and couldn't afford many nice dresses anyway.  I put on my wool coat and  scarf before rushing out the door.

It was a mile to walk to work and back. The wind was icy,  I remember that, even with the coat and scarf. I remember turning my collar up against the cold. I remember crossing the high bridge over the river, the one that always made me worry that I would lose my mind and jump.

But memory is a tricky thing. Sometimes I have a mental image of seeing the plaza that evening, all lit with lamps in the gloom. Other times I'm not so sure. And while I must have made it to my workplace, through the ubiquitous Christmas music and peachy-apricot scents, this no longer exists as a firm reality. But I must have done all the same, because the check was certainly in my purse, uncashed, later that night.

The next thing  I remember for sure, I was standing on the edge of the street - it was grey, too, like everything else - dithering over whether I could make it to the bank before closing time. There were two men talking, not too far away. One of them had curly hair and was wearing a suit. They broke off their conversation to look at me.

I nodded at them rather distractedly. The light was fading. But I'd hardly got more than a block when a car drove up next to me.

The man in the suit said, it's so cold, do you need a ride anywhere? I said no, but thanks anyway.  I made to walk on. He said, I was just going to dinner, will you join me? Please?  He gestured at the restaurant across the street.

While I did like his fine suit and his rather elegant hands, I demurred.  I was still thinking of the bank. I had Christmas shopping to do.

He took my hesitation as something else, though. He said, You don't have to get in the car with me. I'll be at the restaurant and you can meet me there if you like.

After he drove away, I stood on the icy, wind-blown corner and pondered my fate. Wither this way or that? In the end, I met him. It came down to practicalities, you see. I was getting a bit hungry by then, and I really wasn't sure I could cash my check in time to buy anything to eat.

He bought us dinner and we talked. He said he lived in Austin but had come here on business. He was engaging and friendly. I found him appealing  despite our age difference, but was sceptical as he was the type who was usually married. He swore up and down he wasn't, and in fact this would turn out to be true. He was only what he claimed to be, really, a lonely businessman passing through town on this particular Wintery day.

When we finished our meal, he asked if he could take me out for a cappuccino. I didn't answer right away, since this was so long ago, I didn't even drink coffee yet, let alone fancy Italian drinks. The man said if I'd rather, we could have ice cream instead. I told him I wasn't sure, and this was the truth. But I was enjoying myself, and the man was nice, even if he kept staring at me funny.

"What is it you need?" he asked, with suprising sincerity. "a reference?" He offered to call an assortment of people who would vouch for him. He gave me his business card with his home address on the back. Finally, he gave me his driver's licence. He said, take this, amd if I get fresh with you, you can keep it.

By this time I was laughing, so it was easy to say yes. It wasn't that I didn't like him, or  even trust him somewhat at this point. It was that I knew we would end up in a relationship, and I wasn't sure at that moment if I wanted to take that path or carry on alone.

By the time we left the restaurant, the sky had faded into night. The man was staring at me again. Feeling a bit exasperated, I asked him why he kept looking at me. Why on earth did he want to go out with me so bad? He apologized and said  - with an earnest awkwardness that seemed ... maybe ... impossible to fake - "It's because you're the most beautiful person I've ever seen in real life."

Ah, such words! Perhaps only another Ugly Sister could appreciate the way I felt then, in the saddest, hidden corners of her heart.

At the coffee house, we had both cappuccino and ice cream among the Christmassy lights. I was no longer so cold in my seafoam dress.  We talked about how we wished we could fast forward to the future, 6 months or a year or 3. Ostensibly this is so we could say we were in love, but really we wanted to evade the challenges we knew would separate us. We were too flawed for it to be otherwise, even if we would pretend it was not so for years.

At that moment, though, in that reality, all was still potential. The man (his name was Michael, by the way, since we've already reached the point of planning our life together) asks me to come to a party at his father's house on Sunday. His whole family will be there. He says he'll pick me up at work at 6, when the store closes early that evening. By now, I've given up my token resistance. I'm happy enough to agree

And so it is three days later, I'm at work, nervously fussing around my domain. It's almost closing time. Through the wall-sized windows I can see the early darkness settling. And here now too I can see Michael, ready to take me to his father's house, with a dozen roses in arms.

Whatever happens after this is not important - well, it is, but not for the purposes of this post. It's that I promised myself then to remember this moment always, when dark comes at six and the weather is cold.

This post is my way of keeping that vow.