Three Times the Charm

We met while I was waiting for a bus. It was pouring and I’d forgotten to bring an umbrella when I’d left work. As I stood in the rain huddling under the flimsy plastic overhang by the bus stop, I noticed a man standing near me and sharing his umbrella. He never said a word. I only noticed because the rain had stopped falling on me.

I glanced up at him and smiled. “Thank you,” I said quietly, not knowing what else to say.

“You’re welcome. It bothered me seeing you getting soaked like that.” He held out his hand. “I’m Mike.”

“Pleased to meet you. I’m soggy,” I joked and noticed him grin. “My name is Kelly.”

The bus pulled up, I paid my fare and sat. He got on and sat next to me. I took out my phone to check messages and when the home screen came up, he asked, “Is that the opera house on your phone?”

I was surprised. “Yes it is. I work there.”

“That must be exciting. I go to the opera about four times a year, depending on what’s playing. I like it. No one else I know gets it, but I fell in love with opera when I was a kid.”

Now he really had my attention. “I know what you mean. My mother used to play opera for me when I was little. She sang and so did my grandmother; I guess it’s in my genes.”

“What do you do there?”

“I’m a chorus member, but I’ve been blessed to have sung very minor roles. I guarantee no one has ever heard of me and no one is clambering for my autograph.”

He chuckled. Looking out of the bus window he started getting his belongings together. “This is my stop. Next time I’m at the opera I’ll watch for you in the chorus.”

This was my first encounter with him.

A few months later after singing a matinee performance, I'd changed and pushed my way through the crowd to the stage door and into the sunshine. Turning, I began to walk towards my bus when I heard someone calling her name.

“Kelly… Kelly…”

I swung around to see Mike hurrying after me.

“I was going to send you a note telling you’d I’d be here, but I didn’t know your last name,” he said. “You were wonderful today”

I snorted. “How could you tell? I was one of many on the stage. And my full name is Kellen Anne Fitzpatrick.”

“Michael Dante D’Angelo is my full name,” he said with a grin. So, now that we’ve been properly introduced, would you have an early dinner with me?”

“Yes,” I said. “I’d like that very much.”

About halfway through dinner he told me he’d gotten a job offer and it was too good to turn down; he was moving to another country in a few days. My heart broke in a million pieces and shattered on the ground like a wine glass that had slipped off a table.

It was then I knew I’d fallen in love with Mike, but it was clear he didn’t feel the same way. And at the end of the night - and knowing I’d probably never see him again - I watched as he walked out of my life.

That was my second encounter with him.

Many years later after I’d retired as a professional singer I’d began volunteering at the opera. Instead of being on the stage I was now behind a desk trying to get people to take out a membership and donate.

One evening, as I stood on one of the upper levels leaning over the railing to watch the audience as they filed in, I felt someone behind me slip his arms around my waist. My first instinct was to swing around and slam my hand into his chin, but something told me to look first.

“Mike! When did you get back to the USA?” His hair had gone mostly grey, and he had the look of an older man, but he was still the sexiest man I’d ever seen. Then I grinned inwardly knowing I’d also gone grey (but he’d never know it thanks to my hairdresser) and had the look of an older woman.

“I’ve been back for about a week and am trying to settle into my new apartment. It’s difficult adjusting, almost like having culture shock in my own country. Know what I mean?”

He’d taken his arms from my waist and his hand brushed my cheek. “Kelly…” he whispered. Then he did something that surprised me. He leaned over and kissed me. It wasn’t anything terribly passionate, but at the same time it was tender, loving. “It was difficult to walk away from you, but I knew I had to. I’d made a commitment to my job and knew I’d be gone for a long time. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

I was never one to mince words; I needed to clearly define what was happening between us. “Mike, what’s going on? I mean, I’m glad to see you but you’re assuming an awful lot, aren’t you?”

He backed off. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I couldn’t help myself. When I was away not a day went by that I didn't think of you. Kelly, I’m drawn to you as if there’s an invisible magnet attached to us.”

“We haven’t seen each other in many years. I could be married for all you know.”

“Are you?” he asked.

“No, but that’s not the point. But, for what it’s worth, I’m drawn to you, too." I hesitated, then asked, "Are you interested in a real relationship or is this just a one-night thing? I don’t do those, so please don’t waste my time if that's all you're looking for."

And that was my third encounter with him.

Twenty years later we’re still married. I guess the moral of the story is if you find the person you know you’re meant to be with, don’t settle for second best because you’ll regret it. If it’s meant to be it will be, even if it takes many years.