A string of pearls

I have two stories to tell, both about women who, at 17 and in love or in the beginnings of it, told a lie. Both went on to marry the man of their dreams, and both lived with them until the men died many years later. They both grieved deeply.

The first was two years younger than the boy, and they had grown up in the same neighborhood. He went away to college. The next fall, as he walked to class, he beheld a smiling beauty walking towards him. She seemed vaguely familiar, but he didn't know who she was until she said hello and he heard her voice. Wow! where had that skinny, harum scarum young girl gone to? She was now lovely, poised and smiling at him, flirting. He flirted right back.

They chatted briefly, then he said he had to get to class.

She said,"Oh, what class are you taking?"

He told her what it was. Economics, I think.

"What a coincidence!" she exclaimed. "That's my class, too."

So they walked together to class, sat hear each other, and the next day, she changed her schedule to include the class on economics. Did well in it, too. They hit it off. They fell in love. The following year, when she was 18 and he was 20, they married. Under Texas law, a woman of 18 didn't need parental permission. The same law, regarding men of 20, said men did need permission, which he received.

They were married more than 60 years, and had an adventurous life with their brood of children. They lived all over the world. They truly were partners.

And it was years into the marriage when she finally confessed to him that she hadn't been signed up for that course at all.

The second woman also was two years younger. She met the man she would marry her senior year in high school. He went away to college.

In her case, her parents had intended to send her to a different college than the one he was attending. So she researched school catalogues and hit upon a major that only was offered at the school he was attending. It was actually a pretty good fit for her, but she had not planned on that particular field. She told her parents that was what she planned to do, and they paid to send her there.

So she went to the school where he was attending, they dated, and after two years, were married. They settled in Texas and reared their children there. When the children were in school, she completed her degree in the field she told her parents that she wanted so much she had to go to his school. The lie she had told had taken her down the path to a degree in that field. So she finished her degree. And it was work she enjoyed.

It worked out all right. She went on to write a book that was published in her field. When illness took her husband prematurely, she missed him for years and has finally gone on with her life. She still is immersed in parts of her profession that still give her pleasure. After all, maybe she would have chosen it anyway.

I don't know if she ever told her husband or her parents. I do know that she has always tried to deliver what was expected of her. I think she takes a certain pleasure, even joy, in remembering the lie she told that led to marriage to the boy she was determined to have, the future she seized for herself.

I think the lies were different, and the repercussions were different. Certainly, the people were. The times were.

I cannot conceive of wanting to marry so soon. I couldn't then. I wanted to live on my own awhile before I married, and so I did. I don't personally relate.

Lies have repercussions, good or bad, for years afterwards, and in these two cases, probably for generations.

I know both of these women, their families. I have my own thoughts about the two lies. Are they the same? are they different? Do you like one more than the other? Both gave the woman an honest chance to build a relationship with the man.

And yet.