For her 71st birthday, Leta's gentleman friend
Delbert Henderson gave her two tiny birds in a cage.
“Oh my goodness!” she exclaimed on the evening he left the
covered cage outside of her front door and she took away the cloth to reveal
the two creatures. “What is this?”
Immediately, the birds began to chirp.
She squatted to get a closer look. One of the diminutive
creatures was bright green with a yellow head, tiny blue beak and tiger stripes
extending from the back of its head down to its tail feathers. This one was
hopping around the cage. The other was sitting on a perch. It was primarily
white with small patches of sky blue feathers on the top of its head, just
above its shoulders and near its rump mostly hidden by its wings.
“They’re parakeets,” Delbert said. He had appeared out of
nowhere, although she suspected he was somewhere close.
“They’re beautiful,” Leta whispered, as if raising her voice
would disturb the joy and love she suddenly felt. “Hi, budgie,” she said,
waving one finger at the creatures.
“Since you like birds so much, I thought…” Delbert explained
haltingly. He realized he didn’t need to go any further. Leta was enraptured.
“They’re wonderful!” she exclaimed and stood. “Thank you so
much.”
Leta could not remember a more enjoyable evening. Once she
could tear herself away from her new pets, they proceeded to a birthday dinner
and then returned to her apartment for dessert, conversation and gin rummy.
While Delbert preferred to play whist, Leta always won, so to keep his spirits
as lively as her own, she insisted that since it was her birthday, they play
gin.
They talked about many things, but mostly family, and their
concerns about their grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Delbert was looking
forward to baseball season. He and one of his sons were fans of Toledo’s farm
league team, the Mud Hens, and had season tickets.
“I’d like to take you,” he said apologetically, “but my son
won’t ever miss a game.”
“That is very thoughtful,” she said, “but I learned long ago
to never interfere between a man and his son, especially around sports.”
She also admitted that she was more of a Cincinnati Reds fan,
and he declared that he would take her to a game before the end of the season.
By the time he left later that night, well after midnight,
Leta was convinced that he would soon ask her to marry him, and she would
definitely accept. However, the proposal never came. Instead of spending more
time with each other and growing closer, he began to call on her less and less
over the next two months. It was a gradual rather than an abrupt dissolution of
their relationship. A week after Leta’s birthday, one of their card-playing
friends died unexpectedly of a stroke, which resulted in that club being
disbanded. Delbert came down with bronchitis shortly after that, and after he
recovered he was unable to drive for several weeks.
At first, Leta thought she would be dismayed and lonely, but
as the days passed and she did not hear from Delbert, she learned that she was
content with her life the way it was—grandchildren and great-grandchildren,
watching a little television, keeping her house clean, reading the morning and
afternoon newspapers, and going to church. This was fulfilling enough for her.
She did not need the company of a male companion, whether husband or lover or
even friend to give her life value and purpose. She was 71 years old, and she
had two adorable parakeets to keep her company. That was enough.
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