“I think I made her happy”

—“Buy the card!” said the little voice in the back of my head.
That would be ******, my other lifeguard friend at Canandaigua’s YMCA swimming-pool.
Although my Bible-beating father would stridently insist she was Satan.
“Don’t buy that card!” a second little voice would say. That would be the ghost of Hilda Q. Walton spinning in her grave.
“You give that card to *****, and she’ll think you’re coming-on to her.”
Fortunately I’ve had enough pleasant experiences with women, including *****, I don't listen to Hilda much anymore.
I bought the card and gave it to *****. It was a sympathy card. Her mother died.
Not much in it; just “thinking of you.”
Plus a little of myself: a quote from the Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám, a legacy of “that funky little college just north of where you grew up.”
That would be Houghton of course. My lifeguard friend is Wellsville south of Houghton.
“***** told me you gave her a sympathy card! That’s the first thing she told me. She even showed me your card.”
That was ******, the one my father would insist was Satan.
“I think I made ***** happy,” I said. “And I almost didn’t buy the card. I shouldn’t think women would automatically be turned off.”
“You did make her happy,” ****** said.
“Boy I sure am glad I gave you that card,” I kept saying to *****.
“I almost didn’t buy it. I was afraid of being misperceived.”
***** bopped me over the head with her rescue-board. Then she dropped to her knees poolside to tell me something about relatives getting angry regarding her mother’s passing.
Engage what little experience I have interacting with women: she’s talking to you. LET HER! Don’t interrupt; don’t cut her off!
I coulda sought clarification, but let her talk!
***** switched to another topic.
Someone once told me what bereaved people need most is to talk about it. Beyond that, maybe I’m also making her feel better.
***** said something about hesitation regarding family crisis.
“Just buy the damn card!” I shouted. I did, and look what I got? A happy *****.
(“Impossible!”)
By buying her that card I told my lifeguard friend I cared about her — and she liked that.
This is entirely contrary to the way I was raised.

• The quote from The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám: “The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on…” —I usually say that every time someone dies.