Sharon, Embracing Cyrano

Of course, neither the semester nor my life as I knew it ended with that particular Valentine's Day.

Occasionally I saw Sharon around and about, as on Sundays we ate in the same dorm cafeteria. I remember one Sunday morning I saw her in a dress, just having returned from Church. Perhaps the one time in my life I saw Sharon in a dress and heels. Oddly, both of her ankles were taped underneath her pantyhose. Always feeling herself clumsy, she had a woeful tale for me in a similar vein.

And one more mention before the grand finale.

One day I went over to the Commons of one of the other dorm complexes to study, a newer building away from either Sharon’s or my own. There was a girl studying next to me, and when we both chanced to stretch in a study break at the same moment, I struck up a conversation.

Amazingly enough, it turned out that this was Sharon’s roommate, whom I don’t recall having previously met. More than a bit resentful, she told me that she was only studying there for one reason. Apparently she had been banished from her room by Sharon and her boyfriend, so that they could have “privacy”. I could hear the quotation marks in her voice. I know what she thought they were doing, but my mind didn’t want to approach that.

I tried one last time. Silly me. Sharon’s birthday fell in finals week. Eager for one last chance, knowing that I had missed opportunities, and determined to play my own Cyrano, I went shopping. If I could coach Mike, I could choose the right things for Sharon myself—and I remembered that trip to Cedar Rapids. I found a wonderful card, and selected a cute, sweet and cuddly stuffed bear. And not a cheap one.

I paid for the bear to be packaged, just so that it was perfect. Heart in my throat, on Sharon’s birthday I set off for her dorm.

I was a bit disconcerted when I arrived to find her room swarming with women. Dazedly I gathered that they were decorating for Sharon’s twenty-first birthday. I stepped past a couple of girls intent on the confection that the door was becoming, and into a madhouse. Eventually I gathered that Sharon was out, and not expected back for a while. Numbly, through the din I handed across the package and the card, and worked my way back to the door. And headed home.

And waited.

I didn’t hear from Sharon. I knew when she was supposed to finish finals and leave, before me, and I fussed about it. Finally my Dad picked me up for the long drive home, and I fussed some more.

And finally I realized it. My...tactical error.

Anticipating seeing Sharon, though I hadn’t called first, I had expected to hand her the card and wrapped box. My signature was on the card, but I had no note with the box. The card and package weren’t attached. Clearly, in that chaos, I could see what had happened. The girl had absently turned, and put the two items into the pile. Eventually, Sharon had worked her way through her gifts. Read my card, perhaps smiled. Opened the package with the bear, smiled again…and wondered who it was from. Wondered what unthinking dunderhead of a sweetheart had given her such a nice gift—without a note. And then moved on to the next package.

That's how things work sometimes. For me, anyway.

Sharon does have an epilogue, of course.