#mr coldwell

It was 1984 when Samuel Coldwell met Mary Schmidt in a fair organised by the synagogue in charge of Rabbi Goldberg to raise money for the Jewish community now that Rosh Hashanah was around the corner. It was a good occasion to spend time together and enjoy the last days of summer before the beginning the cold autumn.

He was 23 at that time and she was 22. Samuel was the only son of Ruth Coldwell a thin, small woman who sadly was dying of cancer. He never knew his father, he didn't ask about him and Ruth didn't talk about him either. Samuel owned a little flower shop that was frequently visited by neighbours and some of his friends.

Mary, on the other hand, was the only daughter of Elizabeth and Shlomo Schmidt. A beautiful girl whose hand was asked more than once, but denied in every occasion. Mary didn't want any kind of relationship until found the right man and in the meantime spent her time working in a kindergarten, surrounded by little kids and their infinite curiosity.

For Samuel was love at first sight, for Mary was another one. To say the truth, she found him a bit annoying and creepy because the moment he saw her, started to follow her around the park they were in.

"Mary Schmidt will never give you a second of her life, Sammy. Look at you! Look at her!" his best friend, Levy, said.

"What's wrong with me?"

"That you're not like her. Do you know her ex boyfriend is Matthias Hirsch? The football player. And she said no to Hirsch when he went to Liverpool. What makes you think that you do have a chance?"

"How do you know all that? And most importantly, why didn't you tell me about her?"

"My mum and Mrs. Schmidt are friends, mum loves to talk about them with dad and I just listen to them. How the hell I was going to know you were going to find her that nice?"

"More than that. Levy, one day I'm going to marry Mary Schmidt and she's going to be Mary Coldwell."

Levy snorted "whatever you say, man."

– - - -

"That boy Coldwell have been behind us all day. Clearly after you, Mary," her mother said.

"It's not important, mame," the girl said, looking over her shoulder to see that Samuel was standing near the popcorn machine looking at her. For the first time in the day, Mary smiled at him. "What do you know about him?"

"Little to nothing. His mother is dying, his father disappeared before he was born. He has a flower shop in South London and goes to another synagogue. I guess he's here because friends in common. The McClellans are close to the Coldwell, at least the boy."

"You're like a little fly that's everywhere, mame. You know everything." Mary smiled and took her mother's arm. "I like his hair," the girl confessed and Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

- - -

"I feel her mother is going to stab me as soon as I'm distracted," Samuel confessed resting his head against a wall. "why is she so scary?"

"Because she is," Levy said. "Elizabeth Schmidt is the leader of the Jewish community where they live. They listen to and respect her and she knows how to bark. But, Sammy, if you like her daughter go and ask Mary herself if she wants to dance with you."

"I should give her a rose," the boy thought out loud.

But it wasn't that night, despite he kept looking at her, yearning, from the distance and despite Mary finally looked at him as well. It was a night that Samuel invited her to go to Hyde Park to see a band. By the time, both had a relationship they call friendship but for everyone it was obvious that soon it was going to be something else, even when nothing had happened between them.

Samuel used to wait for her after her work and even the toddlers that went to the kindergarten started to ask if Ms. Schmidt had a boyfriend. Elizabeth and Shlomo talked in private about this curly hair boy that slowly but surely was beginning to win their daughter's heart.

"Too perfect to be real," Elizabeth thought, but never said anything.

When this first kiss happened, they where under a tree. As he promised, he gave her a rose -a white one- that now she held in her hand. There was music somewhere in Hyde Park but she had ears only for him and the guitar he had in his hands.

"That's ABBA," she laughed recognising the first chords.

"ABBA, Mary, is the perfection of music," he said smiling at her. "You're not the first one who laughs at me for liking them."

"I'm not laughing because of that. It just surprised me. But no gonna lie, Sammy, I prefer the Rolling."

"Too loud," Samuel replied. "Did you listen to our last summer?"

"Yes. On the radio."

"It's better live," the boy stated. He looked at her one last time before, smiling, paying attention to his guitar.

The summer air was soft and warm. The feeling right, the Paris night. Did its best to please us…

"Sing with me, Mary," he whispered, plunking the guitar strings. Both chuckled when she shook her head, "come on, princess, I know you know the lyrics."

"You're going to laugh."

"No, I'm not."

"And you you talked of politics, philosophy," she began to sing"—And I smiled like Mona Lisa. We had our chance. It was a fine and true romance…"

Knowing the chords by heart, the rest of the song he played it looking at her. Before the end, they were kissing like both of them wanted.

"I like you, Sammy," she said resting her head on his shoulder. He put an arm around her.

"I like you, too, Mary."

Elizabeth Schmidt became "Bubbe" four years later when her daughter and her husband had their first child.