Yachta Mache - 10

I mentioned before the man who had written poetry for me – Hector, although at this stage I hadn't realised it had been written by him. Around this time I had a phone call and was very surprised when he said it was Hector. He asked me if I could meet him. I explained that we couldn't date employees. He said he didn't work in food preparation any longer, so I had no excuse for not going out with him.

I was flattered, and we agreed to meet the next Saturday at Central Park (pictured above) , just outside the subway station on Park Avenue and 57^th Street. I had taken many trips into the city before, sometimes on my own, and felt no worry about the ferry trip, or the subway system, so I went happily to meet him as planned. He said this area, called Columbus Circle, was the southern end of Central Park, which is about 5 avenues wide and 40 streets long. I was to get on the 1 train at South Ferry subway station, and stay on the same train for the whole trip, which would take about 23 minutes. Subway tickets wherever you were going cost 15 cents each way. You put your money into a machine and got a ticket which went into a turnstile which let you then into the massive group of options depending on which way you wanted to go.

Central Park is famous for being such a huge expanse of green in the middle of a built-up housing area. He met me as planned and we walked through the park, hand in hand, and about lunchtime, settled on the grass, and had hotdogs and drinks for our picnic. Hector got a bit romantic, but nothing over the top. But I can say that my self confidence in my ability to attract  was well and truely revived.

Our main goal was to get to the Loab Boat house, where we rented a canoe, and he took me out on the lake, away from the crowds, and it was very peaceful.   I liked Hector, but hardly knew him. We talked a bit about his growing up in Puerto Rico, but he was very reluctant to give much away.

We agreed to go out again the following weekend, and this time to go to see a movie on a different part of Staten Island. I can't remember what the film was, but it was something very long which I had seen before, and had no interest in sitting through it again. After awhile Hector worked up his courage to get a bit more involved, but I put a stop to his explorations. I don't think we stayed till the end of the film, but rather than being upset by my putting the brakes on, he was encouraged and said how nice it was to find a girl with morals. He respected me.

We kept out going out at least every other week for a few months.

In January, we had a new dietitian join the staff, perhaps about 30 years old called Juanita Villalobos. She was from California. She also lived in the nurses' home, but on a different floor from us. Both Carolyn and I made friends with her, and spent quite a bit of time in her room.

After going on a several  dates with Hector I mentioned to Juanita that I was dating him. “You shouldn't be telling me this,” she said. “You are putting me in a very awkward position. You know the rules about dating the non-officer employees.”

“Yes, but he isn't in our department anymore, so I thought maybe that was okay,” I said, feeling embarrassed at being told off.

“He isn't any more suitable a date for you, because he empties bins instead of peeling carrots,” she said. “How did you get involved with him anyway?”

“I guess I was just so much wanting a boyfriend. The two other guys who I'd been out with had turned out not to be suitable for various reasons. (John's wife was now very pregnant, and I often saw her walking the wards. She was a nurse.) And I guess I wanted to test my prejudice – to see if I felt any different about dating somebody who was not pure white.”

She looked shocked when I said that.

“How did you feel when you started dating Crawford?” I asked. "Did you feel like people were staring at you?”

“Jeanie,” she said, very firmly, “I am not white.”

I felt as if she'd slapped me.

I suppose she was the same brown as Hector – being part Mexican. Her boyfriend was black, and they seemed very happy together. But because she was my equal (or superior if you want to be completely accurate) it had never occurred to me that she was not white. So my prejudice was a social class one as well as a  racial one – and I hated to admit it but it was there, and I was both surprised and embarrassed that she had uncovered it for me so clearly.

“I won't tell on you,” she said, “but if you don't want to get into trouble, I suggest you stop seeing him, unless you really love him and want to have a relationship with him – in which case, make sure you wait until your internship is over or you will lose this entire year's work.”

“I don't love him. I certainly don't want to marry him,” I said.

“Well then you are being very unfair in even going out with him. Remember how bad you felt when John led you on. You're doing the same thing to him. ”

When Hector called me in the nursing home, I had to have a name to tell people who he was rather than admitting that I was breaking the rules. Carolyn knew, and thought I was a fool, but I was sure she would never tell.   So when Hector called, I told them he was Sam, a man I had met in Manhattan a few weeks previously.

Sam did exist and I did go out with him once. We had places next to each other at a big food fair – each of us trying to convince the public who were visiting the exhibits that we had something to interest them. But before long we were bored, and far more interested in getting to know each other better. As soon as we could, we skipped away from the exhibition hall. We weren't far from the Off-Broadway theater area, and decided to take in a show together. I rather think it was called Three Actors and at the Billy Rose Theater.

Sam lived in Washington DC and was heading back that way the next day, but I needed to be home in order to go to work on early shift the next day, so after our meal and seeing the play, I caught the underground at 11 p.m. all the way by myself. I must admit to being a bit nervous, but nothing happened, and I got home safely. He promised to call me, but he never did – but the others thought that he was the one asking for me on our local phone.

I did write to Sam once, having this stupid guilt feeling for using his name for my own selfish interests. I sent him a Jewish New Year card, and confessed my deceit. He sent me a note back, saying he hoped all was going well for me and he had enjoyed meeting me but made it clear that we wouldn't be meeting again.

Hector went on a vacation, and when he came back, we met up for a walk. He proudly presented me with a little tape measure – and the note on it said, “Since you in me, I sin no more.” I was pleased that he had remembered me, but my guilt at leading him on was getting more pronounced every time we met.

Finally the day came for us to break up – and it came to a head when he asked me to marry him. I was absolutely gob smacked. I had no strong feelings for him – other than gratitude that he was making me feel special. But I had to say a firm no, and of course, that meant an end of the whole experience.