20. When John met Kate again, or Part 2

When John left for college in Boston, our lives went in different directions although we both ended up in Washington. John gave up his musical aspirations after Berklee and went into the family business: journalism. I studied poetry at the University of Maryland, fully intending to live out my days in a garret. Hungry, I eventually ended up in journalism, too, then nonprofit communications, which also fit the garret plan. We both married. We each were blessed with a daughter. His marriage lasted five years. Mine, eleven.

Soon after Maeve’s dad and I split up, my friend Ellen called John to tell him. He called me right away and said he was very sorry. He knew how hard divorce could be, being the son of divorced parents and divorced himself. He said that I should call if I needed anything. I thanked him for his concern. But a couple of weeks before Christmas I got another call. John wanted to know if we had a Christmas tree yet. He must have remembered what a sucker I am for Christmas. I told him I hadn’t had time.

The following night John and our mutual and dear friend, Holland, appeared at the front door with a very large Douglas fir. I think Maeve, who was four at the time, was totally enthralled and more than a little frightened. She refused to come into the room with them, peeking around the corner to look at the tree. I picked up the phone and ordered a couple of large pizzas. Then Maeve and I headed up into the attic to find everything tree-related.

Finally, eating a slice of pizza and unwrapping Christmas decorations, Maeve was won over. She sat in the living room, showing Holland and John her favorite decorations. We ate our fill of pizza. A few days later John called to ask if I wanted to go to the White House Press Christmas Party. It wasn’t a date, exactly—just a work thing that he thought I might enjoy. I said, Sure.

On the evening of the party, the weather was wet and cold. I met John at the east gate, and we made our way with the damp, aptly disheveled press corps to the rooms on the public floor of the White House, decked with boughs of holly…and so much more. One of the Navy’s jazz bands played. There was enough finger food to feed an army. 

John introduced me to some of the reporters he worked with at Scripps Howard. At some point the group decided to get in line for a photo op with the Clintons. John looked skeptical, but I said let’s stay in line. If we get tired of these shenanigans, we can leave. At this point, John’s dad had not called Bill Clinton a bore on national television, so we were cool. We got our photo with Bill and Hill. 

When the evening ended, a thin sheet of ice had descended upon the city. I took John’s arm as we skidded down the sidewalk. It had been a long time since I had taken his arm, but it felt very natural. 

We didn’t see each other over Christmas, but John brought Katie, who was nine, to Silver Spring’s First Night. We met Ellen and Kevin Cosgrove there with their kids who were about Katie and Maeve’s ages. I had known Kevin since middle school. Not entirely coincidentally, Kevin and John had been roommates at Berklee.

At about midnight, I was carrying Maeve in my arms. Kevin’s mother Laura, a diminutive Italian-American from Staten Island — never shy about speaking her mind — said to John, You should be carrying the two of them. I would, he said. But I don’t think she’d let me, nodding toward Maeve. I just stood there and blushed. It was cold, so no one noticed.

In the next few months we went on a few actual dates, the two of us, to dinner, the movies or both. I was seeing a therapist, working through my divorce, but I talked to her about dating John and how that might affect Maeve. I talked about the uncertainties of bringing our children into this, whatever this was. She was encouraging. She said that I was attuned enough to Maeve’s feelings to recognize her comfort level. Katie seemed to be happy with us, too, but she was just about to be a teenager. How would she feel then? Most of all, I didn’t want to forge these tender relationships and then have them sever because John and I decided to move on.

One day I called John and said, There’s something I’d like to talk to you about. We met at Cafe Deluxe for lunch. It was halfway between where I lived in Maryland and where he lived in Virginia. John, being a vegetarian, ordered a salad and I, of course, ordered a cheeseburger. After the waiter left, John smiled and said, So, what’s up? I looked him squarely in the eye and said, I don’t want to bring someone into Maeve’s life who isn’t permanent. If you’re not serious, I don’t think we should do this. He looked back at me equally as intently and said, I would marry you today, Kate. That was not what I expected. It took my breath away.

In the coming months, we all got to know each other. And the four of us spent time with John’s extended family, which was sheer heaven for Maeve, especially, who had had just about enough of being an only child, in spite of her overabundance of cousins. Katie also spent time with the Reillys—my horde of siblings, nieces and nephews, etc. I spent a lot of time smiling. As did John.

John and I got married one cold January day at 4 in the afternoon. When the pastor’s assistant told me it was time to go into the chapel, I turned for a moment to look out the window as a light snow fell on the hillside outside. Are you memorizing your vows? Katie asked. Yes, I am, I smiled. This would be the last test run. Next time it was for real. I took her by the hand as we walked toward the chapel.

When I told my friend Melinda, yet another forever middle school friend, what John had said at Cafe Deluxe that day, she said, Be careful what you ask that guy. He’s always going to tell you the truth.

So right, Melin. To this day. Almost twenty five years later.