COINCIDENCE

I firmly believe most coincidences take a lot of planning, but it’s always the ones with no reasonable explanation of planning, the highest degree of chance, that keep me believing there is something hiding behind the curtain, waiting to pop out, an answer to all the uncertainties we face as humans.

Many years ago, I sat perched on a barstool at the Hotel Edison in New York City. I was on a business trip and decided to pour a few down before I was to be joined by several colleagues. I was good at pouring a few down, and, admittedly, not so good at business.

A young woman sat down next to me. Unusual, because there were plenty of empty seats. She was tall, her hair had that messy, sexy sort of look you see on magazine covers, and her attire was casual, almost athletic, but the cologne she wore triggered something within me, a memory, and then she spoke.

“Hello Charlie, funny meeting you here.”

And then it struck, and it felt like a kick to the stomach, Bonita Perez was sitting next to me, the girl I worshipped in junior high, and that was the cologne she used, and it wasn’t overpowering, but it was just enough to make every hormone in my teenage body rage.

I tried to regain my breath before I replied to her.

“What are the chances, Bonita, you are Bonita, right?”

“That’s me alright, kinda’ nuts meeting here, isn’t it?”

Bonita had been in a couple of classes with me our freshman year at a Catholic school in Buffalo, hundreds of miles away. She was only there for a few months before her family moved again, but now she sat alongside me and her English was flawless. When she first arrived at school she was struggling with her new language and it was obvious she was embarrassed by it. Her family had arrived in Buffalo from Puerto Rico, uprooting her from everything she was familiar with, and it showed.

But that Hispanic accent and her mispronounced words only drew me more to her. I was hypnotized by her beauty and innocence, I was under her spell. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen, but I lacked the courage to engage her in meaningful conversation, but I could be the clown for her, I could attract her laughter and attention that way. I did so at every occasion, disregarding the warnings from the nuns to behave.

That was the year I committed the only act of chivalry in my existence, an act that resulted in a week’s long suspension from school. Bonita was in the lunch line when Mickey Hillman pushed her out of the way. Mickey was a big kid and a bully who delighted in punching the arms of classmates and slapping them on the back of their heads.

Bonita looked upset, perhaps on the verge of tears, but Mickey didn’t relent.

“Learn the language stupid or go back to where you came from.”

Bully or no bully, I had enough, I was between him and Bonita within a heartbeat, there was no decision to be made, I reacted on instinct fueled by rage. We squared off and I delivered a swift, crisp blow to Mickey’s mouth. He wore braces and his lips started to bleed. His hands tightened into fists, just as the janitor stepped in and escorted us to the Principal’s office.

Mickey made sure everyone heard his warning as we were dragged away.

“I’m gonna’ kick your ass, you stupid polack.”

Bonita and I never spoke about the incident, and a few days after my suspension I found out Bonita’s family had moved. I never thought I’d see her again. Just as well I thought, she missed the beating Mickey gave me in the park across from the school and the constant harassment he subjected me to. In addition to two black eyes, he gifted me with a broken nose, which has left me with what the doctors refer to as a deviated septum.

But now, Bonita and I sat side by side, bewildered by the forces which had brought us together again. She was waiting for her boyfriend, a New York City firefighter, and he had all the bravado of a New York City firefighter, but a nice guy nonetheless. And Bonita, she was a Rockette, fresh from rehearsal for their Christmas show, now that’s something, huh?

I wish I could tell you she left her boyfriend for me, she became famous as a dancer, and I became filthy rich as a businessman, we married, had children, and lived somewhere in a villa between Spain and Portugal, with a beautiful view of the Iberian coast, but I won’t tell you that, but I will share something with you that keeps me up at night, that energizes me when I am at my lowest.

As they were getting ready to leave, her boyfriend popped into the men’s room, and she stood and leaned against me, with one hand on my shoulder and the other behind my head. She kissed me full on, not a friendly kiss, but a romantic one, and then she whispered into my ear as I was once again intoxicated by her cologne.

“Thank you Charlie.”