Happily Ever After

- Jen Tota McGivney 

This love story begins with apricots.

Richard Solar, a young artist living in New York City in the 1950s, escaped the city one afternoon with his hiking group. During the group’s lunch in the woods, he noticed a pretty woman—new to the city and new to the group— enjoying apricots from her bag. He knew an opportunity when he saw one.

He asked the woman if he could have an apricot. She said yes. He asked to take her out for a drink when their bus returned to the city. She said yes again. That evening, they met at the rooftop bar of the Beekman Tower Hotel. She was so nervous that she spilled her drink; he was smitten from the start.

Thus began a 50-year romance. Richard and Lolly married, raised a son. When they worked, they had careers they enjoyed. She was a secretary, and he was a commercial artist whose work took them to New York, Washington, Atlanta, and Clearwater, Florida. When they retired, they logged even more miles, exploring Brazil, Canada, Europe, and China. But Richard’s favorite moments with Lolly were spent closer to home, especially during the 15 years they lived in Atlanta. He’d find a restaurant in the country and take her there for lunch, using the drive to enjoy scenery and conversation. He loved that feeling, of Lolly in the passenger seat, of a long drive to a little restaurant, of believing they could talk all day.

Love stories begin without our notice. We don’t know when the apricot will remain an apricot, or when the apricot will become the opening line to a 50-year romance. Only in retrospect can we point to the mundane detail that got the whole thing started. Perhaps that’s why couples get a kick out of recounting their stories, the idea of so much springing from so little, of being characters in the same story before realizing it’s a story at all.