It’s not often I suggest hitting “play” on the music selection first but for this..
She was older, he younger, but not scandalously so. She from summer “cottage” Newport society, he from the “walk up” neighborhood of Elmhurst, privilege and working class at the crossroads. His passion music – drummer and dreamer, his path to follow the footlights, her passion perched wing-side awaiting its cue; music was the glue that bound them, grew their friendship. Ill fated, they commiserated on past loves and broken hearts, they talked about anything and everything, their’s a love affair superseding time, age and economics, it was new love proclaimed, love accepted.
On Valentine’s Day, schedules hectic, they met in the parking lot of Newport’s 1st Beach; joining her in the front seat of her car they sat, 2 star crossed lovers, pounding ocean surf white noise soundtrack to fate’s deliverance as he spoke of unexpected news of a child to be born 9 months hence; in a “New York minute” the present and future eclipsed by the realization of what that implied. It was the lovers’ last embrace, tears smearing an unfinished watercolor canvas barely begun; he left her on Valentine’s Day to be the father he never knew, left her Valentines’ Day to forgo the dream of what might have been in the name of a greater love.