You Go Back, Jack, Do It Again, Wheels Turnin' 'Round and 'Round...

Previously, Chapter 35: She Dreams in Color, She Dreams in Red. Can't Find a Better Man...

Isabel Pavia. Getty Images.

After I interviewed in New York, I flew back to Boston, my second flight in two days, and for someone who doesn't like flying, more flight time than I was comfortable with. My oil-leaking Chevy Malibu was parked at Logan, and I drove it back to our apartment in Easton.

In addition to grieving the loss of her father, Susan was in the midst of making a life-changing decision. Neither one of us was happy living in New Jersey the first time around, and now I was asking her to do it again. I could tell she didn't want to, and if she decided not to, we'd be going our separate ways, and just four years into our marriage. I didn't want to get divorced, and neither did Susan. We loved each other.

I couldn't help but think that if we had held off on getting married, and I received my bachelor's degree in education from Northeastern like I wanted to, none of this would've happened. But I learned that looking back at what could've been does nothing to help you move forward. It's just a waste of energy. Pointless.

I was all about the next best opportunity, and at that point in my life, getting back into the garment business was my best opportunity. The money was good, and I had prior experience showing a clothing line in a New York showroom working for Pandora Industries in '79. I was actually pretty good at it.

After we spent the weekend together, I told Susan I was taking the job in New York. The money was too good to pass up, and I knew Jersey would be better the second time around. But Susan still wasn't sure. She needed more time. 

I poured a fresh quart into the Malibu and put two more into the trunk just in case, then drove back to Jersey to start working for Little Topsy and its new owner, Seymour Baruch. 

I stayed in the spare bedroom at my parents' condo in Edgewater, New Jersey, which runs along the west bank of the Hudson, across from Manhattan. I remember picking up a six-pack and having a couple of beers after work, and my father telling me he didn't appreciate me drinking beer. It was his condo, his rules, so after I finished the last one, I didn't bring any more into his home.

I spoke to Susan every day, and after we talked about my new job, I asked her if she had made her decision and was willing to give Jersey another try. When I didn't get a definitive answer, I instead persuaded her to drive down on Friday and spend the weekend with me. I told her we could go into the city, shop, have dinner, and hit a bar. She agreed to it.

I took her to a famous New York Deli, J. J. Applebaum's, on West 34th Street in Herald Square, where you could smell the corned beef from two blocks away. She had "Caked Alaska" for dessert, and it was the biggest piece of chocolate cake we'd ever seen. We hit some department stores and had a few drinks in a popular bar, where I worked my magic and tried to recruit her without applying too much pressure.

By Sunday afternoon, Susan was all in. She drove back to Massachusetts and immediately gave her two weeks' notice.

Two weeks later, I left the Malibu in Edgewater, took the train back to Sharon, rented a U-Haul trailer, and packed everything into it. 

After we finished packing and emptied the apartment, Susan couldn't find the opal ring I bought her on her eighteenth birthday, two months after we started dating. It was a pretty special ring, and she thought she dropped it somewhere in the apartment. I spent an hour on my hands and knees, feeling every square inch of the shag carpet, twice, hoping to find it, but I couldn't. Susan had to stop me from looking, or I'd probably still be there. I desperately wanted to find that ring, but sadly, we left for Jersey without it…

As soon as we got settled in Edgewater, we went apartment hunting and found a two-story brick apartment building on Main Street in Bogota, a small borough of only one square mile in Bergen County along the Hackensack River. The building had roughly 20 apartments, and fortunately, one was available on the top floor, middle of the building. 

There was a bus stop in front, and a full parking lot around back. We were only 8 miles from Manhattan, but it still took 45 minutes to get to the Port Authority every morning, and up to an hour with delays, which occurred almost daily.

We met Jim and Felicity, a young couple living downstairs who were close to us in age, and we became fast friends. They were Jersey natives.

The Township of Teaneck was only a short walk away, with a supermarket, lots of small shops, restaurants, and a movie theatre. We spent a lot of time there.

Susan landed a teaching position in a nearby town, and life was good.

On a recommendation from one of her coworkers, Susan went to a hair salon down the hill, a quarter mile from the apartment, and got her hair done. When she returned, it looked very different. It screamed Jersey Shore, but I told Susan it looked really nice. Happy wife, happy life! Right?

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A week later, I went there to get a haircut, and the same person who cut Susan's hair, a girl named Viviane, cut mine too. When I got home, Susan took one look at me and started laughing hysterically. 

We stood side by side in front of the bathroom mirror, looked at ourselves, and couldn't believe our eyes. Susan and I had identical hairdos. We called em Viv-dos. Apparently, Viviane was a one-trick pony.

Yeah, we were back in Jersey doing it again, only this time we had the matching hairdos to prove it…

To be continued…