Lucky Coincidence
Margaret had a dog, a husband, and a neighbour named Ian Lynch. In the evenings, Margaret would walk the dog, while Ian would take himself out for a stroll. They wandered around the block, chatting.
“You look under the weather, Ian,” said the kind-hearted Margaret. “Like a flower that’s been left without water. It’s all because you’re single. You were single yesterday, you are today, and I’m worried you’ll be single tomorrow too.”
“You’ll definitely see that!” Ian nodded absent-mindedly, lost in his thoughts. “I might bring a woman home, but the right opportunity just hasn’t come up.”
“You’re still waiting for some fantastic coincidence!” remarked Margaret, adjusting the dog’s leash. “But darling, you could be waiting until kingdom come. You know, I have a wonderful distant cousin who’s also single…”
“Let’s not talk about cousins,” Ian muttered with a pained expression. “I don’t doubt your relative’s qualities, but you can’t force happiness.”
They walked another lap around the block. The dog was happy, Ian was glum, and Margaret found their conversation amusing.
“Why aren’t you taking the initiative, Ian?” she asked. “Why don’t you like the traditional ‘see-meet-fall-in-love’ method?”
“Because centuries of experience show that the grandest events happen by accident!” argued Ian, who was well-read. “Look at history. Columbus accidentally discovered America. Chemist Plunkett accidentally invented Teflon. Physicist Röntgen accidentally discovered X-rays…”
“…and Ian Lynch accidentally got married?” laughed Margaret. “Bravo! You’d make a worthy addition to that prestigious list.”
“Getting hitched to the first girl just to fill a blank space on a form doesn’t take much brains,” grumbled the stubborn neighbour. “That’s not my path. Chance has to play the lead role!”
“Take a deep breath, Ian!” advised Margaret. “Breathe deeply while you’re out here. It’s pitiful to see you so pale, with red eyes… My husband is married to me, and that’s why he’s rosy and cheerful.”
Ian obediently breathed in deeply. Light spilled out from the house windows, casting yellow and pink blocks that mirrored the shades of the curtains under their feet.
“We’re having a nice walk! And about my cousin…” Margaret began again, playfully casting her line.
“No more cousins!” Ian waved his hands. “Erase her from your mind! I’m certain if you drag me to meet someone, it won’t work. No spontaneity means no impact. Nothing in me will stir, and I won’t exclaim, ‘Wow, what luck!'”
“My cousin might argue otherwise,” said Margaret. “But we’ll leave her be since you insist. Breathe, Ian, breathe.”
“You laugh at ‘lucky coincidences,’ but what about you?” pressed Ian. “Recall your own story. You didn’t search for a husband, right? He didn’t look for you. But unexpectedly, you met, fell in love, and got married. Right?”
Ian hit the mark, leaving Margaret with no comeback.
“Yes, Eugene and I met by chance,” she agreed, fiddling with the leash. “It was almost ridiculous. Did I ever tell you? I was twenty and went to the city ice rink…”
“Let me guess!” interrupted Ian. “Your future husband was there too, and you collided? Maybe you didn’t steer clear on the ice and ended up tumbling together. Then you became friends?”
“Alas, dear analyst, it was different!” laughed Margaret. “I went to the rink, but my future husband didn’t…”
“Strange,” said Ian. “Where did you bump into him then?”
“After the rink,” explained Margaret. “I missed the bus and was walking back with skates slung over my shoulder. I was taking a shortcut through the alleys when I slipped near Eugene’s car. Landed flat on the pavement and yelped as my skates flew under his wheel.”
Ian snapped his fingers, seeing how the scene fit perfectly.
“See how many happy coincidences lined up!” he cheered. “You might not have gone to the rink that day, right?”
“I didn’t even want to,” confessed Margaret. “But I’d had a spat with my previous boyfriend, the evening was ruined, and I wanted to be alone.”
“See!” Ian crowed. “A heap of random factors. You might not have argued with that guy. Might not have gone skating. Might not have missed the bus, sparing you the walk… In the end, you might not have fallen and could have strolled past stranger Eugene into the night…”
“You’re right,” admitted Margaret. “But it happened the way it did. I landed on my rear and yelled, my skates flew off, and Eugene…”
“…rushed to your side, asking, ‘Are you all right?’” guessed Ian.
“No. He came over and said, ‘Miss, did you just dispose of those skates?’ And I said, ‘Not funny, you fool!’ And he replied, ‘Takes one to know one!’ And we ended up waking up in the same bed.”
Ian Lynch needed to hear no further. Margaret and Eugene’s marriage served as a living testament to the power of playful chance over plain intention.
“Fate has a way of bumping the right heads together!” said Ian. “You know, neighbour, I’m working on my own formula for meeting women.”
“And to do that, you spent another half the night glued to the computer?” scolded Margaret. “No wonder you look as pale as a dumpling wrapper. I’d understand if you were just chatting with women online, but you have other goals.”
“Online dating?” Ian snorted dismissively. “Pure child’s play. Once, I saw a girl there with a face full of tenderness and mystery, and her smile hinted at unshared sorrow.”
“How romantic!” Margaret flattered. “If I weren’t married, I’d fall at your feet alongside my dog. But I can’t. My charming cousin, though…”
“No cousins!” Ian cut her off. “So, seeing this beautiful girl online, I wrote her: ‘It was by the sea, where the lacey foam is, and the city carriage rarely trod…'”
“And she?”
“That angel replied in the spirit of a modern-day Tatiana: ‘You what, totally a loser or something?’ And I realised she wasn’t the one.”
Margaret laughed along with her dog, who howled musically in harmony.
“I have a mathematical mind!” Ian stated, raising a finger. “Working late, I calculate the odds of a chance meeting with a woman I’ll love. My success is modest for now, but it’ll happen. An unexpected meeting, an accidental mishap, an unplanned beginning of something big…”
“I sincerely hope you find that lucky chance soon!” said Margaret.
And they parted ways. Margaret went to feed her kids, dog, and husband, while Ian went back to puzzling over the formula of random love.
***
That evening, Ian was out to take another breath of fresh air. Margaret and her dog were nowhere to be seen at the entrance, but a girl was riding by on her bicycle. Distracted, she hit a pothole and tumbled with a yelp right at Ian’s feet.
Ian may have been a bore, but he was never unsympathetic. He rushed to help the fallen cyclist. The girl had cornflower blue eyes, golden hair, and long legs.
“Careful!” said Ian, helping her up. “Why fall on the hard pavement? You’ll wreck your bike…”
“It was an accident,” the blue-eyed girl winced, holding her knee. “I didn’t even want to take this route through the courtyard! Don’t just stand there, give me a hand! Oh, my head’s spinning… Call me Alice!”
Ian tended to the injured girl on the bench before fixing her bike. Clearly, Ian was thrilled with this fortuitous encounter. It melded perfectly with his theory of random meetings. Margaret watched through the curtain. She knew that cousin Alice had torn two skirts and gained five bruises before mastering the art of gracefully and timely falling off her bike…
