Glasses of Chardonnay

New York, 10.4.2019

It was around 2:30pm on a cool, rainy October day in SoHo, when Quoc and I stumbled into a cramped restaurant for respite from hours exploring New York City. Exhausted and cold, we sipped our coffee and listened to stories that rose in the air from nearby tables.

“...I met him in September and by January, we were married...” A couple had sat down next to us. Her dark hair was in a bob and she wore glasses, maybe she was in her late 50’s. She seemed to me like no one out of the ordinary who would typically stand out among others, really. The man sitting across from her appeared older, maybe in his late 60’s, with grey hair and a raspy voice. He listened closely as she shared her love story.

It began when she was young - maybe in her 20’s or early 30’s. The whirlwind September-January courtship resulted in a marriage that lasted five years. Two of those years though, were apart from each other. “We didn’t want to be together, yet neither of us wanted to get divorced.“

She was a retail store manager in Dallas at the time. Clearly her zest for opportunity and adventure were what brought her north. “What are you doing still down there as a store manager?” she remembered being asked by the supervisor from the anchor store, “Come to New York and be a buyer. It’s what you always should have been!” And so she did. Alone.

While in New York, her husband contacted her from Texas and suggested they keep things the way they were. “Why not?” he asked, “You’re there, I’m here, we can still be married this way.” She didn’t have any argument against at the time. It was a theory that might have worked, were it not for a chance encounter during one of her flights back home to Dallas.

“I never thought I’d get married again.” she said now, as the server arrived at their table with two glasses of Chardonnay - a surprising choice, I thought, for the brisk, damp day that was outside. She went on, “What made me realize I wanted to divorce was when he said he did not want children.” The couple paused to toast each other and savor their first sips of wine. After a moment, she continued to evoke the time period long ago, when she worked in the city and was married to a man half a country away.

She was sitting on a runway, waiting for a flight from New York to Dallas to take off. The seat next to her in coach was empty. He had tickets in first class. They never should have met. As she waited to take off, he appeared and sat in the empty seat beside her, followed by a profusely apologizing flight attendant. He had gotten bumped from his rightful seat and, as consolation, was being promised any beverage of his choosing whenever he wanted. “Asshole,” went through her mind as this snobby prick from first class took his spot beside her. He gave his order to the attendant, followed with “and she’ll be having...” He looked beside him for a choice of beverage in response.

Indignant, our protagonist retorted, “I can pay for my own drink, thank you.” To which the gentleman explained, “No, you see, I am terrified of flying and difficult to sit with. Therefore, I always buy the person sitting next to me a drink. So what will you have?”

During the flight, she learned he was from Connecticut, which happened to be where she had gone to school in Stamford. Upon hearing her alma mater, he asked if she recognized the name of his personal assistant, which, against the odds, had been her best friend. More unbelievable discoveries of mutual connections ensued, rich conversation emerged between the two, and she mentally determined she would make sure he had fun in Dallas. Upon arrival, she introduced him to her friends and they all went out together throughout his stay.

Thirty thousand feet above the earth, a relationship began to form while an earlier whirlwind marriage started to end.

The arrival of the couple’s meal brought her story to a close. What happened to the relationship that began in flight from New York to Dallas is left untold. Where the mystery Connecticut native is now, and whether the woman he befriended ever had children remain unclear. What happened to her career in fashion, and who is this man in the restaurant listening to her memories on this October day are unknown.

The story ends leaving ample room for imagination. One thing, though, is clear: this woman sitting next to us in a small, crowded restaurant in SoHo, New York has a lifetime filled with stories to be told over glasses of Chardonnay on days when it is too cold.

May we all be so lucky.