A Rare Moment

I saw her in the hallway in the factory where I worked part time. She was pretty. Her dark hair and tan complexion, got my attention. We said hello as we passed each other. Our eyes lingered just long enough to offer a hint that we might be attracted to each other.

Working my way through college, a friend’s father put in a good word for me, which was how I got the job. They started me out on the factory floor, but I was so rough on the soft carbide metal I was supposed to shave into exact measurements, they moved me into the office where they did pricing. She worked downstairs in the main office with the executives and the bean counters. I looked in vain for opportunities to visit her office.  

Jon, one of the machinists I got to know before being booted off the factory floor, noticed. “You get a good look at that girl?” He said this as he lit a cigarette. He was never without one.  

“I don’t know. She’s cute, I guess.”

“She likes you, Charlie.”

“Yeah right.” The older guys were always giving me the business.

“You didn’t notice?” I shook my head, no. “Her name is Oria. She’s works for the vice president of sales. She ain’t your kind though.”

During lunch in the tiny break room I’d see her walk by sometimes. One day I gave her a wave and she smiled and waved back. Progress. A couple of days later we ran into each other, this time in the stairwell. She was wearing a nice dress, heels and a bit more makeup than usual. “Hi, Oria,” I said, hoping she’d be impressed that I knew her name.

“Hello, Charlie. How do you know my name?”

“Jon told me. I didn’t ask for it, he just gave it to me.” I knew that was a stupid thing to say, but I was nervous. Her looks were growing on me.

Oria helped me out, which made me like her even more. “Someone in customer service, her name’s Jean, told me your name. She said you’re going to Rutgers.”

“Right, I’m a junior.” The company president opened the door and stepped into the stairwell. He smiled, but we were immediately worried about getting into trouble for lingering, so she headed downstairs and I climbed another flight.

Jon was waiting for me on the third-floor landing. “She’s Puerto Rican, you know.”

“So, what?” I asked. This was eleven years after West Side Story debuted on Broadway. In 1968, were there still people who felt strongly that you should only marry someone with the same ethnic background and religion? 

“You take her out and two things are gonna happen right away, Charlie Butera. Her family isn’t going to welcome some WOP you know, and your family will disown your ass.”

“Jon, do you know my family?”

He laughed. “Don’t have to. Am I right? You bring a SPIC girl home, they won’t be happy.”

Although I looked for her every day, I didn’t see Oria again until a week later at the company Christmas party. As a part time employee, I didn’t expect an invitation. I didn’t think I would go even if I was invited, but when my boss told me I was welcome to come, I changed my mind.

When I got to the Knights of Columbus hall that night I started looking for Oria even before I went to the bar for a beer. A few people were standing next to a huge Christmas tree which was placed alongside a tired looking, old fireplace. She wasn’t there, but when I turned toward the jukebox, I saw her. She was talking to a couple of girls I recognized from the office. They were listening to Christmas songs too, I guess. I couldn’t help noticing that she was wearing the same dress she had on the last time I saw her. She looked great. A few couples were dancing. I wanted to ask her to dance, but I was nervous, worried she might be there with a date.

I went up to the bar and got my drink. Naturally, Jon walked over. “She doesn’t have a date. She walked in alone. I saw her, man.”

“Leave me alone Jon. Why are you so interested? You want to take her out?”

“Jon Phillips ain’t going out with no SP…” He hesitated. Puerto Rican girl.”

I turned away from him and looked for Oria. I admit I was a little confused. As much as I hated to admit it, I wasn’t sure how my folks would react if I dated a girl with Oria’s background. I took my drink and did a walk around the hall’s perimeter. I looked back at the jukebox, but she was gone. It was early, and I wondered if maybe she’d left. Where was she? I finished my beer and decided I’d leave if I didn’t see her in thirty seconds. 

“Hi Charlie.” I turned around and there she was.

“Oria! I was looking for you. You want to dance?”

“Okay.”

We danced a few times and chatted, mostly getting to know each other. She said she wanted to go to college but her father said she had to work for two years first. I told her I wanted to be a writer. She rolled her eyes and we both laughed. We danced a couple of slow songs. As soon as our cheeks touched, I knew I was in trouble. I pulled away so I could look at her. Oria’s smile said it all. It was as if she knew what was going to happen all along and only had to wait for the right moment. When it was time to leave we walked to the parking lot together.

She said, “My brother is picking me up.”

“I’ll wait with you until he comes,” I said. Most of the nearby houses were decorated for the holidays. Bright, colored lights covered bare bushes and candles adorned windows. We were holding hands, watching the vapor escape as we breathed into the freezing night air.

“Not a good idea,” she said. She slipped her hands into her pockets. “He won’t like it. You’re not one of us.”

I was about to protest, but I thought of Jon’s warning and I didn’t want to overplay my hand. I said good night and headed for my 1952 Mercury. It wouldn’t start. The battery was dead. I sat there, considering my options when I saw Oria’s brother pull up in a good-looking Chevy. I got out of my car and walked over to his window. “You wouldn’t happen to have jumper cables, would you?” I asked. 

Oria quickly jumped into her brother’s car to get warm. He asked her, “You know this guy?”

“We work together.”

“Where do you live?”

“Bloomfield,” I said.

“Bloomfield? Call a cab, man.”

“Can’t we give Charlie a ride, Diego?” Oria asked.

Diego looked me over and then at his sister. He was sharp. He caught the chemistry right away. He put his car in park and got out. “You sure you got a dead battery, man?”

I handed him the keys and let him give it a try. Nothing. He looked at me and said, “I’ll give you a ride Charlie, but my sister is off limits. Understood?”

What I said to Diego surprised me. It was one of those rare moments in life. When you look back on it, you know that had you given a different answer, your life would have moved in a completely different direction. “I like Oria and I want to take her out.” I took my keys back and said, “I’ll walk home.”

He gave me a hard look. “Get in the Chevy, Charlie. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into man.” He laughed.

He was right. Eighteen months later he was my best man. And my family did object but only briefly. They fell in love with Oria too. Jon wasn’t invited to our wedding.