|75 Prospect St|
Been thinking about posting this story for a while, but I was always reluctant to talk about this very private love story. Suppose I didn't want to tattle on old folks or snitch if you know what I mean. They were both white headed, very dapper for their ages somewhere north of their seventies I presumed.
Blanche (an appropriate New England name) was slender and a tall lady with very elegant features, pristine white hair and always wore bright red lipstick I remember. For years she had worked at a local ladies boutique, Isaacson's on Main Street. Every hair on her head was permed its seemed to me and her tight silver curls graced her head almost like a tiara graces some kind of royal. The curls belonged there as as did the pearl necklace and earrings she always wore.
He was ruggedly handsome with a strong jaw but his arthritis nearly crippled him and after a while he walked with two canes, one for each hand. He would always come to visit Blanche every Sunday evening. I knew this as fact because he was our landlord on 75 Prospect Street. A very kind man who never raised his voice and who when he talked his voice smiled.
Miles, that was his name and it was easy for me to remember cause I thought of him as Smiles. Smiles the man who every Christmas gave us December's month of $75 rent free. Hard not to forget when he knocked on our door to give us the news. It meant more gifts for us each year.
Miles and Blanche were good Catholics but he was married and she was single still. Miles could not divorce and marry Blanche. He had to wait for his wife to pass. For years Miles would visit Blanche and stay for long hours to chat; two old lovers and wonderful friends, I recall. There was something special about their love, friendship, and loyalty. They didn't have to be married to care for each other but they did. Never saw them hold hands or display affection though but I certainly could feel their love.
It's been over forty years since I saw either of them but there's something always that makes me think of them. Can't say I know but it warms my heart thinking of them in the apartment above ours on a cold winter's night on 75 Prospect St. Suppose they never married but I like to think that somewhere Blanche and Miles are holding hands properly and more than friends eternally.