Peter's proposal.

The last week or so that I stayed in NYC after the show closed, I spent out in Brooklyn, at Peter's place.

Everything was about to change. I didn't have a job, or an agent, or an apartment. Decisions would have to be made.

It rained almost the whole time I was there. Warm, late spring rain. And it was pretty cozy holing up with Peter in his old apartment with high ceilings and hardwood floors. He made homemade bread every other day.It made the whole place smell wonderful.I LOVED that bread. Peter told me there was a mouse that lived in his oven.
"No way!" I said - not believing him."How could it survive in there?"
"Yea - really! He comes out to say 'hi' when the oven's off. There's a hole in the back and he pokes his head through."
"But that's gross!" I said."We're eating bread that a mouse has been touching? That doesn't sound very sanitary."
Peter laughed. "Well, he doesn't come out when the bread is IN there - it's too hot."

I made Peter show me. Sure enough, that little sucker stuck his head through the hole in the back of the oven just as soon as it was barely cool enough.
"Well, I don't know how I feel about this..." I said. "But he IS cute."

We lolled around for those rainy days. Slept in late every morning. Peter's room was basically an empty room with a mattress on the floor and two huge piles of clothes. One clean pile and one dirty pile. I stole my favorite of his flannel shirts. A red plaid one. It was so soft - and like all of his clothes, was from one of those preppy, outdoorsy catalogues. LL Bean or something. I wanted something to remember him by. And I have to tell you that that shirt has been worn by me and ALL of my kids - except August. By the time he wants to steal it, he'll be too ginormous. But that shirt has really held up! First Max stole it from me, then Izzy stole it from Max, then Sophie from Izzy, then I saw Step wearing it! I'll have to steal it back next time I see it.

Peter couldn't stop bragging to me about how great Brooklyn was. I think he didn't want me to be sad about losing my place. He took me to his favorite hangs - and the best one was this bizarre bar that had a ton of games everywhere. Like chess and checkers and 'Sorry' and 'Clue' and cards - and everything you could imagine.It was really crowded with stuff, and smelled a bit musty. And there were cats that lived there and wanted to come say hello while you were drinking or playing 'Candyland'. AND there were two little girls who worked there. I would say they were maybe 12 and 10. It was the strangest thing, having these little girls come and ask you what you wanted to drink. Felt like we were in another country. One without child labor laws. AND there was this weird old guy who dressed like an old-timey sailor and sang once or twice a week. 'Sailorman Jack'. I bought his tape because I thought he was so odd and funny.

One day, Peter took me to the Brooklyn Botanical gardens. It was raining, but we didn't care. We walked all over that place in the rain.It was so beautiful. Peter was right - there WERE so many wonderful things about Brooklyn.
We sang in the rain, walked through gardens and gardens of flowers, letting ourselves get soaked. Then we came to a pergola - a walkway covered with wisteria. The vines were old and thick. I ran my hand over their bark and felt how much a living creature these beauties were. We were somewhat protected from the rain underneath the great vines and blossoms. And the drops of rain that fell through the beautiful flowers were heavy with their scent.

I looked around and drank in the saturated colors of the rainy afternoon. The individual raindrops sparkled and shone. The grass beyond our path was the deepest and most brilliant green. And the beauty of this place and moment grabbed onto my heart and held it. I could feel my throat begin to choke up.
"I don't ever want to lose this." I thought to myself - almost as a prayer.
Then I turned to see Peter.
He was watching me quietly. He seemed to feel the same way.
He kissed me under the pergola. With raindrops falling on our faces, rolling down our cheeks and lips, we kissed.

The next day, in Peter's apartment, I told him that I had to go.
"But where?" he asked?"What are you going to do?"
"I don't know, exactly. But my first stop is Dallas. To get Max."
"Come back here, Jennifer. Both of you. You can stay with me."

Peter had just gotten his acceptance letter to St. John's that week. One of the best schools in the country - where his father was a professor. He had been so excited to get the news, and to share it with me. His face lit up when he read the contents of that letter.
Peter had shared with me that he wanted to be a writer, a pilot and a baseball player when we first got together.

"What are you talking about, Peter? What about St. John's? You won't even be here for much longer. But it's sweet of you to say."
"No. Look." he said sincerely, "I've been thinking. REALLY thinking about this, Jennifer."
I just waited, puzzled.
"Marry me."
"What?" I said. I didn't think I'd heard that right.
"I mean it. Marry me." Peter searched my face to see mostly shock and confusion. "You've seen how great I am with Max. I love you both. And I've really been thinking about this. I'll become a fireman. I'm a little under the height requirement, but I think I can get around that. I'll support you both - HERE - and you can keep on with your acting."
Good God. He was serious. I had almost been tempted to laugh - but I didn't. And now I was glad I hadn't.It was the sweetest offer anyone had ever made me.
"But what about school? St. John's? You want to go so much - you can't give that up to be a fireman."
"Why?" Peter asked, laughing, "I'd be a great fireman!"
"Well, of course you would. Of COURSE you would. But I have a sneaking suspicion that your intelligence might be wasted if you became a fireman."
Peter looked crushed. He HAD really thought about this.
I took his face softly in my hands. "Oh, Peter. I love you so much. Do you have any idea?"
He grinned up at me sheepishly. He had sort of, KIND of gotten down on one knee. "Well, a little idea. You could prove it to me by marrying me."
I kissed him over and over again. "Oh, Peter. You would never forgive me if I let you get stuck being a fireman. I couldn't live with myself if I let you do that."
He kissed me back, roughly, passionately - like it was the last time he ever would.
"Then come to Santa Fe with me." he choked as he kissed me. "Come with me. My parents love you. They'll love Max. You could do theatre there."

We were both trying so hard not to cry, but we couldn't stop it. The tears came. We both knew it wouldn't work. It wasn't REALISTIC. And that meant that this was the end.

We spent the whole night crying, holding one another, making love, and then crying some more. It was horrible. And a little bit great.

Peter made pancakes for breakfast the next morning from his treasured cookbook, 'The Tassajara Bread Book', from whence all of his amazing bread recipes came. He tried to talk me into his marriage/fireman concept a few more times over the next 24 hours, but with less and less conviction.

Then he took me to my plane.
It was one of the hardest goodbyes ever. I didn't want to leave him. And, unlike Peter, I didn't have a plan.
We were both completely crying as the plane began to board.
"I have something for you." Peter said, bringing out a small package.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Open it on the plane, ok?...just something to remember me by."
"But I already have your shirt..." I sobbed.
"I know." he said. "I'm glad. It's just one more thing."

Halfway across the country, when I had finally stopped crying, I opened my little package.
It was 'The Tassajara Bread Book'. I'm looking at it now. On the first page it says only: to Jennifer from Peter. For a writer, he certainly was economical with his words.I have made pancakes,muffins, deserts from this book. And they always turn out great. But I've never made bread. I always say I want to, and something always holds me back.

I think it's because that was Peter's special gift. He made the best homemade bread I've ever had to this day. And, anyway, it wouldn't be the same without the mouse in the oven.

Just so you know I did the right thing (and just so I know) - I should tell you that not only did Peter graduate from St. John's, but he went on to get more degrees and eventually ended up being a nuclear physicist who's job it was to figure out how BEST to clean up nuclear waste. And he learned how to fly a plane. And he became a first rate rock climber. And then he was put on a team whose job it was to translate the human DNA code into a workable program for research and science. THEN he went to law school in D.C., where he now lives (as of yet still unmarried) and works as a cvil rights attorney.

So you tell me.
Did I do the right thing?