Tenby, Wales part 2

Tenby, Wales 1985

I watched the green hills of Wales fly by me from my seat on the train. At 20, I was used to traveling alone but there was always someone to meet on the other side. I tried to convince myself that I was returning to the small Welsh town to work on a story for my photojournalism class. The reality was another force driving me to do this, a connection. I’d never felt such a strong attraction to a stranger before. I thought it was crazy to go back to Wales by myself on the chance that I might see this man. Thomas Nevitt and I shared a boat ride, lunch and an undeniable attraction.

So here I was Friday morning, on my way to Tenby. I’d sent his family photos of them that I shot last visit during the fishing tournament. I wrote that I’d be returning but hadn’t gotten a letter back from them. I wondered if I’d see them. I could get a cab to their address but I thought it would be rude to show up without an invitation.

As the train pulled into the station, I decided to first find a place to stay so I could dump my gear. At a B&B near the south beach, the chatty proprietor, Vic, called me darling and gave me a room with a twin bed and a sink. I’d have to use the bathroom down the hall. It might have been an inconvenience during the high season but in November, I’d most likely have the bathroom to myself.

On the South Beach photographing windsurfers, the wind made my eyes water and whipped my hair around making it hard to focus my camera and my thoughts.  I was freezing despite my layers. The surfers were in wetsuits with no feet or hand protection. The cold camera numbed my fingers. Cold and hungry, I found a quick bite to eat in the fading light. I didn’t know what to do all alone in this small town. I was asleep by 7pm.

The next day, I hoped I’d see Thomas. I wasn’t sure what I’d say to him. How could I admit that I had fallen madly in love with him after just meeting him? When I reached the harbor, I saw his boat the “Ellen May”, bobbing in the water. Thomas wasn’t aboard.

“Ah so you came back to see us, did ya?” Alan, the red headed captain I’d met last time, appeared at my side.

“Yes, I decided to do my class photo story on the town,” I explained. “Who should I meet and what should I shoot?”

“You’re really here at the wrong time of year for that. The town is quiet in the off season. Just us locals.” he said, sounding apologetic.

“NO, that’s what I want, the real town.”

He took me out for the boat ride he had promised last time. If he had come through last time, I wouldn’t have met Thomas.  Alan pulled a large waterproof raincoat that looked like it belonged to a fireman and told me to wear it. The grey sea reflected the November sky. I couldn’t tell if it was the sea or rain pelting my face. It felt  exhilarating.

After he took me around and introduced me to some of the Tenby Lifeguard team. They were famous for fishing tourists from the sea during the summer and hauling in capsized boats in the winter.

“Too bad Thomas isn’t here. He’s on the team,” he said. My cheeks warmed as I blushed. He smiled.

“You look half frozen. Come to my house for tea and you can meet my family.” I couldn’t refuse. He was right. My hands and toes were numb. His sons shared his red hair and were shy meeting an American girl. I played with his cat and drank tea until I was warm enough to venture out again.

“You should go to the Rugby Club tonight. Thomas is apt to be there.” I looked up quickly. How did he know what I was thinking?

“Rugby Club?” I wondered if my desire to see Thomas was greater than my fear of showing up somewhere I didn’t know anyone.

“It’s a pub. Don’t worry. He’s bound to be there. He’d be happy to see you again,” he assured me.

I spent the rest of the day wandering the town working on my photostory. I walked everywhere and wished to be there longer than the weekend. I went to the B&B to freshen up and Vic fed me, chatting all the while. I asked him where the Rugby Club was and he told me it wasn’t far. He didn’t ask why I wanted to go there. I was glad for that, embarrassed that I was pursuing a man I had met only a few weekends ago.

I found the club and lurked on the street outside, too nervous to go in alone. I kept hoping he’d show up. Finally a nice looking chap parked on the corner. “Excuse me,” I said in my most American accent. “Are you going into the Rugby Club? I want to go in but I am scared to walk in alone since I don’t know anyone. I was told someone I met a couple weeks ago might be here tonight.” It sounded stupid even to me.

To my surprise he said, “I’m going in to pick up some Chinese takeout and have a beer while I wait. Come on.”

Chinese takeout at a pub called the Rugby Club? We settled in at the bar and he bought me a shandy. We chatted until his food was ready, then he left. I wished I the courage to be bold and stay for another drink. I felt like everyone was staring at the stranger at the bar. I nursed the shandy as long as I could wishing the bartender would at least talk to me. I left just after 8pm, too early.

Sunday morning, I went downstairs for my full Welsh breakfast and Vic kissed me on the cheek when he said good morning. Fueled up, I hit the streets ready to make pictures. I went toward the harbor. I loved the way the brightly colored houses curled around the cove with the double keeled boats that bobbed when the tide was in. 

A blue Volvo came speeding up the hill as I walked down the narrow street. I looked at the familiar face of driver and saw his eyes open wide with surprise. Thomas pointed at me and nearly ran off the road but recovered, and parked. His smile was a mile wide until I asked how he got the shiner and the gash on his nose. Sheepishly he said, “bar fight.”  He told me all about it as we walked to the Castle Hill, where the ruins of a fortress guarded the town. It was easy being with him. Our conversation was so natural. At 21 his goal was to become captain of the Tenby Lifeboat crew. He told me he had to take a trip to nearby Caldy Island early that evening and invited me to come along. He dropped me at my B&B with instructions to come to the harbor at 5. After showering, I came to the conclusion that I had no idea what to wear on a night boat date in November. I did my best and didn’t feel too sexy in my LLBean boots. He was on the boat and his passengers were on the pier. I’d met them the day before so we chatted about how my photos story were coming along as we waited for Thomas to ready the boat.

“We told Thomas the beautiful American photographer was back in town and that he ought to find you.” one confided. I blushed and stammered that he had indeed found me, almost running me over with his car.

“Aye, that how all the good stories start,” said the other, winking.

Thomas maneuvered the boat to the pier and we climbed aboard. I stood with Thomas as he piloted the small craft across the water to the island. At the island, our two passengers shook my hand enthusiastically and got out, teasing Thomas that he had a much more desirable cargo now that they’d left. The night had gotten dark and cold as we headed into the wind to go back. Thomas took off his woolen peacoat and wrapped it around me. He found a sweater for himself. He slowed the motor and we looked at the stars, sitting thigh to thigh.

“So do you make it a habit of going off with strange men in boats?”

“As often as I can,” I said laughing. He must have known I was out with Alan the day before, but that was not nearly as romantic as this.

He was a Sagittarius, the perfect compliment to my Aries. We talked about what we hoped our lives would be like, what we wanted from a spouse. He knew me so well without knowing me at all. It frightened yet amazed me how intuitive he was. I told him about school in London, he stared seemingly mesmerized. I stopped my story and asked “What? Why are you staring?”

“Your teeth are so white and straight,” he said. “I love your smile. It makes it fun to watch you talk.” His teeth were crooked but it made him look tough and masculine.

We reached the harbor, he dropped me at the dock and gave me his car keys. I was to wait in his car until he was done putting the boat to bed. For once I did as I was told and didn’t question him.

When he finished, we were off to his house to get some hot tea . He lived in a modest two-story with his parents who weren’t home. We talked and watched tv, laughing at how much we had in common even though we were from different worlds. I was only the second girl he’d ever brought to his house. I didn’t want to ask who the first one was. He said I belonged there and he was right. His parents returned, delighted to find me there. His mother gave me a warm hug and his dad kissed my cheek. I felt like an honored guest. I wondered if all Welsh were like this. His mother ordered Chinese and sent us to pick it up. We ordered drinks as we waited. I told him I’d been here the night before, looking for him. I should have been more patient, he got there an hour after I left. We could have had more time to be together. We took the food home and his mother ate in the kitchen with us, wanting to know all about America and L.L.Bean boots.  After dinner in the living room, his mother pulled out the old scrapbooks and showed me photos of Thomas as a boy. I ooh and ah-ed to her delight. I looked over at Thomas, staring at me. His intensity said he was trying to memorize my face and burn this moment on his brain so he’d never forget this night. I smiled at him, breaking the spell.

When his parents went up to bed, they said they hoped to see me again soon. Thomas and I lay on the floor talking. He told me that he and his girlfriend had broken up recently. It’d been a rocky relationship. His mum didn’t think much of her. I thought that it explained why she had taken such a liking to me. I wanted to get his mind off of his ex.

I rolled over to look at him. “I’ve never touched a beard before,” I announced. “It is soft or course?” He reached for my hand and drew it to his face. His black beard felt soft in my hand. I stroked his face and his eyes closed. When they opened again he began to play with my hair. Our hands met, entwining fingers. He rolled up onto his elbow and stared at me again. It was so intense and thoughtful. He leaned over slowly and kissed me. For me, this night couldn’t have been more on script. It was everything I hoped it would be. His kisses grew stronger and he was wanting more of me as he pressed his body against me, pinning me to the floor.

“Wait,” I whispered. “Slow down.”

He rolled away suddenly, apologizing. I explained that I didn’t want him to stop, I just wanted to slow down and soon he was kissing me passionately. He held me tight as he kissed my lips, my nose, my neck. It felt like he never planned to let me go again. His fingers pressed into my back and my body arched into his. I hardly knew this man but everything felt like I was supposed to be here. This was my space at that time. The clock chimed 11pm.

He pulled away and sat up, glancing at the clock. “I need to get you back,” he said. My face fell. I didn’t want our time to end. I had to leave tomorrow. I wanted to spend every bit of that time, until I got on the train, with him.

“Well we don’t have to go straight back,” he said with a grin as he opened the car door for me. My heart warmed. He drove to a spot by the beach, parked and turned off the car. He began to kiss again.

“We should go to the backseat.” I may have said or he may have said it, but we ended up there. “You’re so soft and lovely,” he murmured over and over as he kissed my skin everywhere there was no barrier of clothes. His Welsh accent was melting any resolve I might have had to not let things go too far. I felt him between my legs, hard as a rock. He wanted this, so did I but we both knew it shouldn’t be in the backseat of a stormy blue Volvo.

We climbed back into the front seat so he could take me back. He parked and walked me to the door. I tried the door but the knob wouldn’t turn. I was locked out. I began to panic. Thomas just laughed and said his mum surely would not mind if I spent the night at his house.

We went back in quietly. He went upstairs and I could hear him talk to his parents in hushed tones. He bounded back down saying it was fine with them.

Thomas asked me to sit tight while he checked to see if his room was presentable for me to sleep there. His thoughtfulness surprised me. Most guys would have set me up on the couch and taken their own bed. He came down and led me up to his room. It was simple but tidy. He gave me a t-shirt to sleep in and showed me where the bathroom was. I wished he could’ve stayed with me. He gave me a sweet kiss good night and closed the door quietly. There was still evidence of his girlfriend, a picture and cards she had given him. I came to the conclusion that she was the one who broke it off with him and he was still hurting. In his t-shirt and between sheets that smelled of him, I fell asleep quickly in his strangely familiar bed.

Without opening my eyes, I could tell it was light out. I thought about the night before and how it could have been a dream. If I opened my eyes, that might be confirmed so I wanted to keep them shut as long as I could while I recalled Tom’s kisses and the way his beard felt against my neck. I heard something rustle next to the bed and opened my eyes. Tom was sitting  looking at me with that thoughtful expression like the day before.

“Good morning,” he said. “I brought you tea.”

“Were you watching me sleep?” Embarrassed, I asked “Was I snoring?”

He laughed. “No but you were so cute and so peaceful looking.”

“I was worried that yesterday was a dream. I didn’t want to wake up and be in the B&B.” I didn’t mind admitting this to him. “She’s pretty,” I said nodding to the picture of Karen.

He stood up, handed me the tea and walked to the dresser.

‘I’m sorry,” he said as he turned it face down. “I should have done this last night. I’ll be right back. Mum made you some toast. She didn’t know what you’d want but everyone likes toast.”

I changed into my clothes while he was gone. He came back with buttered toast, neatly cut into triangles. He sat on the bed with me and we talked while I ate. I told him more about school and my friends. As I spoke of a particular guy from my Russian class, he observed that this man meant something special to me. He could see it in my eyes, dark and piercing but expressive, which likely made it hard to keep secrets. Why did he have to say such things? I was already in love with him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t write to you after you sent the pictures. If I had, we could have been together sooner. Maybe I wouldn’t have gotten this black eye in the bar fight because I would have been with you.” I wondered if the fight had been over Karen instead of rugby like he said..

“Yes, I might have been able to save some money too by staying here instead of a B&B.”

“My mum would have loved that. Sorry she pulled out all the old photos last night.”

“I liked it. It made me feel like an old friend.” I wanted to be.

He left to refill my tea. There was a light tap on the door and Meryl popped her head in.

“Did you sleep well?” She asked in a motherly way. “I am puzzled why Thomas put you in his room. The guest room was made up and ready to go. He slept there.”

“Oh! I didn’t know you had a guest room. That’s funny. I thought he slept on a couch downstairs.” This bit of knowledge made me wonder if he wanted the smell of me in his sheets like I enjoyed the smell of him. His mom would surely wash the guest room linens before his were washed. I gathered my cameras and went downstairs with her. Tom was getting ready for work and said he would drop me by the B&B on his way. Meryl pressed a book about Tenby history in my hand as I left and encouraged me to write often. We hugged and I got in the car. “Do you keep a diary?’ His question surprised me, how did he know? “Will you write about me? About this weekend?” I smiled and assured him I would. I wanted to remember it forever.

Outside the B&B, I told Tom that I didn’t want to say goodbye. I wanted to stay in Tenby. He kissed me goodbye and said “You never know.” I stood watching as he drove down the road. I thought how much I wanted to see him again. I’d write. This time maybe he’d write back.

As the train pulled away from the station, I felt cliche as I put my palm on the window, as the town rolled by, in a solemn goodbye. I put on headphones so I wouldn’t seem accessible for conversation with strangers. Tears streamed down my face as the melancholy sax solo of Dire Straits “Your Latest Trick” played. It didn’t make sense that I could fall in love with a man who lived in a small town in Wales but not anyone in my own country. If he asked me to leave school and stay with him in Wales, I would. Wales was beautiful. The people were beautiful. Tom and his mom shared a birthday weekend and they thought that might be a good time for me to return. I hoped they’d invite me to stay with them. I could easily see myself as part of the family. 

After a few letters, I gave up. Tom didn’t write back. I checked the post at school hoping for an envelope from Wales. Three days before our American Thanksgiving a letter from him came. He thanked me for writing and sending photos. He wanted to write the day I left but he couldn’t seem to get pen to paper, he wrote. In the meantime, Karen had spotted us together the weekend I was there and realized she wanted him back. He wanted it too. He said they were “courting strong”. He asked that I not visit again because his mother liked me better and he didn’t want the friction. Karen was wary of my letters, he said. I hoped that she hadn’t read them. He signed off “Take care, Love, Tom”

I felt silly that I had written the letters that I did. How could I think that it would have worked for me to leave school and stay in Wales? My heart hurt. He seemed to understand me so well. Over time though, I guessed our differences in education and economic standing might have caused problems.  It is hard to talk yourself out of a broken heart. 

That year, I got a Christmas card from Tom’s mother. It was sweet and if you read between the lines, she was sorry that the great romance between me and her son had not flourished. In another place and time, it would have been a classic romance. My history of poor timing and inconvenient love would continue many years to come.