No. 219 – April Come She Will

Performer: Simon & Garfunkel

Songwriter: Paul Simon

Original Release: Sounds of Silence

Year: 1966

Definitive Version: The Concert in Central Park, 1982.

This song almost, ALMOST, perfectly represents my relationship with Melanie. It nails it in terms of length—April to September—but not quite the events of each month.

So, yeah, Melanie came she did into my life in April 1988, and I had absolutely no idea the fury of the hurricane that was about to hit before it happened. I’d met several of Jin’s friends over the years, and none ever flipped my switch.

The year before, I went to visit Jin at Albion, where she was going to college, and she hooked me up with someone who was a friend of a friend: Sharon, I think. We had a good time, but it was a one-night stand without the actual stand part.

So when Jin arrived late that Friday afternoon, I had no expectations about anything—just, hey, it’ll be cool to show Jin my new life in New Buffalo. Then she and her friend would head to Chicago the next day to see the Georgia O’Keeffe exhibit at the Art Institute.

My apartment overlooking Whittaker Street had a door to the outside between the two stores below that led to a staircase up to my unit and another one to the back. I almost never bothered locking the downstairs door, so visitors could just come up the stairs and knock on my apartment door. I had a curtain I could peek out of to see who was there if anyone did.

When Jin knocked, I saw only her around the curtain, but when I opened the door, I noticed a curly-haired brunette standing to the side a bit in the shadows who lit up the dark hallway with an effervescent smile. “Will, this is my friend, Melanie.” “Pleased to meet you.” Little did I know how pleased I was …

It wasn’t love at first sight, but it was as close as I’ve ever come to that fantastic beginning. Jin later said that when she saw Melanie’s reaction when she first saw me, she knew right THEN that trouble was afoot.

The conversation between all three of us flowed almost instantly. We chatted in my apartment for a good long time, and then I took the two women to Redamak’s for dinner. Redamak’s is a required stop in New Buffalo. It’s not the world’s greatest hamburger, although it’s plenty good: It’s the hamburger along with the ambiance of the place that makes it special.

Back in 1988, Redamak’s had a dining room—all knotty-pine wood and funky tchotchkes on the walls—and an open but covered patio. The patio since has been enclosed, so there’s always room to get a table. Back in 1988, however, you might have a wait—a long one depending on the time and day. Around 6 o’clock on a Friday in April, before the summer patio opened but after it had started to warm up (Redamak’s closes for the winter), the wait was about an hour.

The three of us continued happily chatting away while we waited outside. Melanie and I were doing more of it, so I got to know her a little better. Melanie was a theater major at Albion, and she and Jin had met in the dorms where they were neighbors, not roommates. Remaining details about the conversation remain elusive.

What I remember though was there definitely seemed to be a spark between me and Melanie, and it was at Redamak’s where I really began to take note of her appearance. Melanie wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous. She had a trim, athletic shape and some Middle Eastern blood in her, so she had olive-toned skin and a more exotic look than any previous paramour. Her smile, though, was an absolute killer, and she flashed it often given her bubbly personality. Anyone with a pulse couldn’t help but be drawn in.

Back then, there weren’t any real bars in New Buffalo aside from a couple of dives, so after dinner, we called it a night and went back to my place. The plan was for Jin and Melanie to sleep on the floor in the living room—they brought blankets and pillows—while I was in my just-large-enough-for-a-single-bed bedroom to the side.

It soon came to pass that Melanie and I sat together on the love seat while Jin began to prepare for bed. Jin said she was hitting the wall—one illegally bought wine cooler at Redamak’s had been enough—but we could stay up if we wanted to. Jin said she didn’t need it to be perfectly dark or quiet to fall asleep, and she turned over on her side away from us.

After a few minutes, I leaned in to Melanie, breathing in the delicately scented shampoo in her curly hair and whispered in her ear, “I think she’s asleep,” and we began to kiss as simultaneously quietly and as passionately as we thought was possible.

Unlike with other moments in my life, I can tell you exactly what song was on my boombox tape player at that precise moment. No, it wasn’t April Come She Will. It was Mas Alla by The Pat Metheny Group off the First Circle tape Don made for me back at Northwestern in 1986.

Melanie and I made out for several minutes before separating for the night. Jin and Melanie had invited me earlier that evening to go to Chicago with them, and now that I had acquired a deep interest in one particular art-lover, I readily accepted. Now, as I lay in bed alone, giddily replaying and re-replaying the day’s stunning turn of events in my head, I couldn’t wait for the next day to come.

I fell into blissful slumber … eventually.