the story

(this is part 3 of a longer story so if you haven’t read the first two parts, you may want to back up and start with Thursday’s post)

Finally, fair readers, here is the story of how we met:

About a year after my divorce, I was dating a guy who had a violent temper and although he had never shown that side to me, I had heard plenty of stories.  He had a roommate who had a sister.  Now, one day, Tommy (the roommate) had borrowed his sister’s truck and needed to take it back to her so Jim (my boyfriend) and I followed him in Jim’s car.  The sister had a boyfriend, Marc, whose apartment she was at so that’s where we were taking the truck.  Marc was friends with Tommy’s younger brother and that’s how he had met Mary (the sister) and Tommy.  Anyway, we three, Tommy, Jim, and I are standing at the door waiting for someone to answer our knock and the door opens and there stands the most beautiful guy I had ever seen.  I was thunderstruck and those were the exact words going through my head...that is the most beautiful guy I have ever seen.  My heart was pounding so hard, my vision had narrowed down to just him, my ears were roaring and all these bells were going off and I’m standing there looking around at everybody else wondering why the hell they can’t hear all the racket.  We went in and sat down and stayed for about 15 minutes, the whole time of which I am pointedly looking anywhere, everywhere but at him, remembering the stories of violence connected to my boyfriend.  I’m thinking that if I look at this guy, everyone in the room is going see it in my face and know what’s going on inside me and I didn’t need the trouble.  Several months later Jim and I quit going out but I remained friends with Tommy, the roommate.  Marc was a receding memory by then and I had started going out with another guy.  

After my divorce, I had moved back in with my parents while I got settled and figured out what I was going to do.  I had started doing etched glass, doing small panels and craft shows trying to convince someone to commission an architectural piece.  So when I finally got my first architectural job, I thought I would look for studio space and actually put a deposit on a space in a warehouse that was being divided up for artists and antique sellers.  The rent was cheap because the place was trashed and we each had to clean up and build out our own space.  I had been there working on it for several hours and came home all dirty and smelly and when I went upstairs, there sat Tommy and Marc.  They had come over and my mother let them in to wait for me to return.  After I got cleaned up we sat around and visited for awhile and when they left, as they got to the car, I called Tommy back to the front door.  When he got to me, I grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him close and said to him...bring. that. guy. back.  

We count our first date as the 4th of July even though we didn’t go out that weekend.  My family had a beach house in Galveston and early that weekend, Friday morning I guess, I had gone down there to spend the holiday.  When he called me again, I found out that he had had two tickets to the Rolling Stones concert in Dallas for that weekend.  So that’s the date (or non-date) we count as our beginning.  Our first actual date was pretty steamy.  Thirteen months later, we married.

Marc will tell you that he doesn’t really remember the visit to his apartment besides knowing that Jim had a reputation for beating guys up so he paid me no attention.  He says, for him, it was when Tommy took him over to my house that first time and when I came up the stairs all grimy and smiled at him.

Now, for the preface and dream to make sense you have to know that, of course his name is Marc with a ‘c’, he is Jewish, and he’s almost two years younger than me.  And though I had started my little studio before I met Marc, it is because of his belief in me, his devotion, his committment to my abilities, his partnership that this life became a reality for me.  Without him, I might as well have cut off my hands.