Taking tentative steps, I crossed the dull chamber to my dresser and opened a small jewelry box where I kept the few good pieces I owned. Among the earrings, thin gold chains and a couple of pendants, I unearthed Howard’s dainty engagement ring, an ornament I rarely wore but occasionally admired. If I thought long enough about our unlikely reunion and less probable love affaire, the absurdity made me smile. I could have married the man of my dreams. As a romantic, almost child-like reflex, I slipped the ring onto my finger.
Then I pictured Howard concocting a second fanciful hide-and-seek game for Shannon’s betrothal delight. Where would he hide the little stone intended for her? How would she react when she found it wrapped up in a gift box with a Christmas sweater or sunken into the bottom of a champagne glass? The image infuriated me and sparked vicious jealously. I quickly ripped the ring off my hand and hurled it across the room into a dark, dusty corner.
Exasperated, I sat down on the bed and reached for the phone. Turning it over in my hands, I keyed Talbert’s number. It rang vacantly across the miles that separated me from my friend.
“And what part of this surprises you?” Talbert demanded matter-of-factly. “Come on, Kate. You didn’t want that guy anyway. If you had, you would have found time for him last summer or after graduation. Instead you blew him off and took vacations with Gwen and me.” Obviously, when Talbert declared that I was a good and kind person, he had omitted my treatment of Howard Millbank from his appraisal.
I started to protest, then realized how selfish I sounded. I may have done the right thing for myself, but consequentially what was right for Kate was not right for Kate and Howard. Talbert would not pity me or take my side over Howard’s. He felt sorry for Howard. I had dismissed and ignored him, while nursing my own needs. This was my doing, a subconscious choice. Through inaction and neglect, I had voiced my decision to my supposed boyfriend.
“He at least could have told me he wanted to date someone else. At least he could have given me the courtesy of a phone call. Couldn’t he have done that for me, Talbert? Couldn’t he?”
Talbert sighed into the mouthpiece, transmitting his acquiescence over the long distance lines. “Yes, Kate, I guess he should have done that.”
It was not late when Talbert and I disconnected. Hansie’s Ice Chalet had a public session that night. It had already started, and would be nearly half over by the time I arrived, but I did not care. I wanted to be among other people, not to pour out my heartbreak on someone I barely knew, but only to shed this feeling of isolation. Picking up my skate bag, a sparkle in the darkness caught my eye; Howard’s meaningless diamond ring. I rescued the tiny jewel from the corner and replaced it in its former home, the original velvet presentation box that Howard had given me nearly a year ago. That weekend, I mailed the ring and its box back to Howard Millbank. I enclosed no note and did not insure the package. Damage and loss did not worry me. As far as I was concerned, it had been lost all the while I possessed it. Maybe Howard would recycle the puny rock as a surprise for Shannon. Maybe he would simply stick it where the sun did not shine.
There are many people with whom I wish I could have stayed in touch. Probably the least practical of these, but one of the most intriguing, was Howard Millbank. Although my obsession with him dimmed years before and his candle no longer burned deep in my subconscious, I wonder what ultimately happened to him. Did he ever become a physical therapist? Did he and Shannon have children, and did Howard live his self-truncated athletic dreams though his progeny becoming a stage parent, the stereotypical “skating dad”?
I cannot be certain whether Howard and Shannon actually married, having aborted my three potential engagements. Something could have happened to change Howard and Shannon’s plans; but I am convinced Howard eventually married, if not Shannon; someone else. Howard wanted to get married. He would have married me after only a few of months. I cannot extrapolate the success of our potential union and do not know if Howard’s interest in Shannon was a rebound instinct or simply a desire to dive into marriage with the first willing partner. Flattering myself by believing Howard loved me so deeply that he would follow me to the ends of the academic earth would be foolish; although he previously claimed this to be true. But he engaged himself quickly to another woman, casting his apparent devotion to me aside like a toy that had become uninteresting.
Hoping to know the answers to my nosey questions, I sent Christmas cards to Howard’s parents for a couple of years after we broke up. The first year, I even received one from them. It was obviously sent after mine appeared in their mailbox, as a reciprocal courtesy. “Oh, dear. We got a card from Kathy Northcott. Do we have any leftovers to send her?” I might have gotten another as an afterthought the next year, but never again. Their responses contained nothing more than a signature. Truthfully, mine disclosed little personal information, letting Howard find out about as much about my future as I learned about his. The cards were a silly way to probe for information, and I am embarrassed that I did this. Maybe a spark still ignited somewhere inside when I remembered the boy from high school, a boy who no longer existed after his metamorphosis into manhood. However, teenaged star-stricken Kate was no more real than Howard Millbank, the high school swim-god.
Howard’s surprise visit during the spring semester was the last time I saw him. I regret that his final memory of me could not have been more positive. We had become friends and cared for each other. I think I might have married Howard given a suitable amount of time to enjoy our courtship and to discover myself as an independent adult. But Howard was in a hurry, though he was no older than me. Upon serious contemplation, I believe Howard married Shannon. I suspect they had two-point-four children. Depending on when the babies were born, it is very likely that neither of them finished their physical therapy training. I would not be surprised if Howard returned to high school teaching and Shannon were still instructing aerobic exercise classes in a health club. They probably reside in Sacramento.
I learned an important lesson from my interactions with Howard Millbank. Dreams often do come true, but not in the manner originally imagined, perhaps not in a productive way at all. I considered my adult ice skating to be a healthy realization of childhood fantasy. Even though I can never be a successful competitive athlete, I was probably equally unlikely to establish myself as an elite skater whether I started at four or twenty-four years old. Yet, in a roundabout fashion, my dream to be a skater had come true. I was a skater of sorts. I had even competed.
Other dreams are simply not meant to come true. I could have wed the man of my youthful daydreams at any time, yet I found the reality of that opportunity considerably less inviting than the slumber party version. Howard never deserved to be objectified, and I did him a disservice by creating an image that he could not emulate. Ultimately, I preferred ‘Howard the construct’ to ‘Howard the man’. After sorting through my emotions, I was probably more grateful for this unrealized dream than those that fell neatly into place. Turns missed due to happenstance can be as critical to the journey as paths chosen through careful contemplation. Howard did what was right for him, and unknowingly for me.
Of course, I had also rejected my second willing suitor. While I cannot include Neil in this category, two other men had been ready to marry me, something I desperately wanted as a young woman, when I felt devalued by my parents. Girls filing into the bridal shop of my undergraduate years, bound for supposed eternal happiness, exaggerated my desire for holy matrimony. As much as I sought love, I did not want love from the wrong marriage partner. Nor did I need the type of love that dissolves with familiarity. Devin and Howard might have loved me forever, but I did not trust my love for them. Possibly I possessed more self-esteem than I imagined.
Instead of acknowledging my developing self-esteem, I was hurt by Howard and angry with myself. But most of all, I was lonely and apprehensive. The thought of Howard visiting for the holidays provided a pleasant distraction from tension at work, but now that image had been ruined. He would spend Christmas with Shannon and probably propose to her, one calendar year to the date, after proposing to me. Instead, I drove to Boston. Talbert came home for his last winter break as a graduate student, and I spent a long weekend there with his family.
After evaluating what I may have done right or wrong and what could have been handled differently, in the final analysis, I am not proud of the way I treated Howard. While I never intentionally led him on, I was not devoted to deepening our commitment. Obligation to my education was foremost in my mind, leaving little room for the demands of a pushy bridegroom. By being honest about my hesitation, I had probably done the right thing when he posed the original question. However, as months passed and I grew no more responsive, I should have ended our relationship rather than avoiding Howard with one transparent excuse after another. Maybe I was too insecure to cut him loose, maybe I wanted to put him on hold until I was better equipped to form sincere feelings. I really do not know how I should have dealt with Howard, but what I ultimately did was probably not fair to either of us. If I think about the bizarre juxtaposition of fantasy and reality that formed the backdrop for our relationship, it still gives me a headache.
Howard Millbank remains one of the greatest conundrums of my life.
I replaced the telephone into its cradle and stared numbly across my featureless bedroom. I felt alone, completely alone. No longer could I cling to a distant fantasy boyfriend who promised a happily married future, who would love me no matter how far afield I traveled. Howard had moved on. He had a new girlfriend, and he planned to marry her. I felt replaceable, like a corporate cog, one that Contessa Cosmetics could easily lay-off or substitute with another slob who needed a paycheck. Howard Millbank, my teenage heartthrob, had dumped me as remorselessly as my employer fired a production facility filled with loyal workers. Howard found a willing mate, someone presumably just as eager to walk down the white-carpeted aisle as he was.
Chapter 56 posted 8/2/02
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