Autumn was bittersweet—it could be best summed up in the words of George Bernard Shaw: “There are two tragedies in life. One is to lose your heart’s desire. The other is to gain it.”
Of course, Shaw was seeing life through a sanguine perspective when he wrote those words, but I was seeing it through the mask of tragedy and the mournful colours of another sombre season without Regan.
Regan was my heart’s desire and when she perished in an accident, my dreams shattered along with her.
We had been seeing each other for three years and were planning to be married. I doubted I’d ever be really happy again or meet anyone as unique, but that all changed when I found Marin.
Marin Woods was special. Our relationship began one day in my graduate seminar when I was fascinated by the sheen of her hair.
The sun was slanting in the window turning the blonde and red filaments into a dazzling copper brighter than any newly minted penny.
I was lost in the daydream of her until Doctor Hedges, my Modern Literature Prof, kindly reminded me how beautiful women are always distractions but one must still attend to the business at hand—in this case, ironically Pirandello, and our discussion of illusion and reality.
I was too afraid to look at Marin and had to endure the smirking faces of my classmates, but after class she and I happened to be walking down the same path and I stole a glance at her and saw a shadow of a smile steal across her features.
She stopped and turned to me, “I’m sorry Dr. Hedges embarrassed you, Jess—he always makes facetious remarks, none of which are true.”
Her spin on things let me off the hook, but I couldn’t lie. “Actually, I was staring at you—I was fascinated by the colour of your hair and the way the sunbeams light it on fire.”
She looked intrigued, “That’s very poetic, and a good line if you’re a player.”
“Who me—a player?” I snorted, “Not bloody likely. I must have turned twenty shades of purple in that room.”
“I’d say your colour was more rosy, but I thought it was adorable.”
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Oh great—‘adorable’—what every man wants to hear.”
“Well, it should be,” she countered, “besides, I was smiling at you—why didn’t you smile back?”
“I guess I was too embarrassed to notice. I wanted to sink into the floor.”
She looked at me compassionately. “Hey, it wasn’t that bad by Dr. Hedges’ standards—he went easy on you. But you owe me.”
“I do?” I croaked.
“I’d say a Caramel Macchiato might redeem you. I’m heading to the bank and there’s a Starbucks right beside it.”
“Actually, I was heading there too—to the bank, I mean—but coffee sounds great.”
She stopped and tilted her head toward me, her long hair shimmering in the sun, “Are you sure you’re not a player?”
“Me? No—honestly, I think you’re beautiful.” The words just came out.
She smiled and looped her arm around mine, “In that case, I’d also like a pumpkin scone.”
And that’s how we began—and how I ended up inviting her to our family Thanksgiving dinner…
And just as suddenly my life changed and autumn with its rosy colours became for me a second spring.
