It's More Complicated Than That

About ten days ago, I was waiting for the bus to go into Boston, or more correctly, and more specifically, to Harvard Square.

I had spent the past several weeks taking care of my two granddaughters who live in a suburb west of Boston. My wife was in Los Angeles, and I needed a bit of time to be by myself.

The bus service and subways are wonderful in the Boston metropolitan area but in the evening they run less often. I always take a book with me to read while waiting for the bus/subway and it never bothers me how long it takes.

I waited on the opposite side of the street for the bus, where the lighting outside the Dunkin' Donuts made it easier to read. I had been reading for about five minutes when a late-model sedan pulled up and dropped someone off. I wasn't paying attention.

A few minutes later that person walked up to me to confirm that the bus was indeed at this location. I assured her it was but that it stopped on the other side of the street; I was on this side simply for the light.

She said she would follow my lead. A few minutes later she asked if I knew how an iPhone worked; she had just been given a loaner and she didn't know to turn it on. The most complicated thing about an iPhone is turning it on; it was not a clamshell phone like she had had before. I showed her; she made her phone call, which included a "thank you" to the person on the other end of the line who had loaned her the iPone.

After she completed her phone call, she asked me what I was reading.

"A biography of DH Lawrence."

"Wasn't he homosexual??

"I really don't know; I just started reading the biography but because the subtitle is "the story of a marriage" I assume I will soon find out, know more."

The bus arrived, and we both got on. We sat on seats facing each other and continued our conversation.

She was a very attractive "young" woman, brunette, with two daughters, ages 20 and 19. With her beret, she reminded me a lot of Mary Tyler Moore when she had her own show many years ago. But a wilder MTM, and later to learn, an MTM with a lot more insight and philosophical bent. Not quite a flower child of the '60s, but very , very close.

We talked for the thirty minutes on the bus ride; it was obvious we both wanted to continue the conversation but, like me, she probably felt awkward about how to ask.

She was visiting her older daughter, a Harvard student, and had just flown in from Chicago earlier in the day.

We separated, but coincidentally passed once more when she backtracked to the Harvard Square CVS drugstore to pick up something she had forgotten. We passed.

But she was on my mind. I fantasized about meeting her again, and wondering why I had not acted impulsively to continue the conversation.

Three nights later, waiting for the same bus, our paths crossed again. This time, I was crossing the street to catch the bus as it rolled in, when she walked by me.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite pediatrician."

Hmmm and wow.

We were back on the bus, continuing our conversation. This time, getting off at Harvard Square we split up, but then I turned back towards her, and told her that I was going to get something to eat or drink or just read if she wanted to join me. She had not eaten. I suggested the Upper Crust; it had come the closest to reminding me of an English pub. She had never visited an Upper Crust pizzeria but had heard of them and had wanted to visit one. Perfect.

We walked briskly. I am a fast walker; a serious walker and an experienced walker. She walked faster than I; and her long legs had a stride that seemed to double mine.

We had pizza and beer and enjoyed two hours of conversation. I really enjoyed the conversation. I mentioned that the last time I had been at the Upper Crust, just a few days earlier, one employee and another customer had both recently been in Morocco. I had spent considerable time in Morocco while in the Air Force and the three of us enjoyed a "Moroccan" reunion.

"Let's you and I run off to Morocco."

Hmmm and wow.

She asked how we might get in touch with each other again. I gave her my e-mail address, my blog site (which has my e-mail address), and my cell phone number.

During the next two days I received two cell phone calls from a number I did not recognize. I do not answer the cell phone if I don't recognize the incoming number. Reflexively I did not answer. Subsequently, a) I did not receive any more calls from that number; and, b) I panicked when I realized that maybe she did try to call. And I reflexively did not answer.

Later, I googled the area code; the area code was assigned to an area not remotely connected with any of the places she had mentioned.

LIke two ships passing in the night, we had passed in the night.

It will be a long time before I quit thinking about her. I really enjoyed the conversation. I am about two-thirds of the way through the biography of DH Lawrence and can now answer her question.

"Wasn't he homosexual?"

"It's more complicated than that."

Life is more complicated than that.