A Fortuitous Encounter
Margaret had a dog, a husband, and a neighbour named Ian Lenton. In the evenings, Margaret would walk her dog while Ian took a stroll around the block. They often wandered together, exchanging words.
“You’re not looking well, Ian,” Margaret would remark with concern. “Like a flower that’s long been without water. It’s because you’re not married. Yesterday, you weren’t married, today you’re still not. I fear I’ll see you unmarried tomorrow too.”
“You will indeed!” Ian nodded absentmindedly while his mind drifted elsewhere. “I might consider bringing a woman home, but the right opportunity just hasn’t come along.”
“You’re waiting on some miraculous chance!” Margaret said, keeping her dog in check. “But dear, you might wait for it to your grave. I have a lovely distant cousin who isn’t married…”
“No cousins, please,” Ian protested half-jokingly. “I’m sure your relative is wonderful, but happiness can’t be forced by the ears.”
They continued their second loop around the house. The dog was happy, Ian was gloomy, and Margaret found their conversation amusing.
“Why don’t you take the initiative, Ian?” she asked. “Why don’t the traditional ‘see-meet-fall in love’ methods work for you?”
“Because history proves the most spectacular events are born out of sheer coincidence!” Ian retorted, with a bookish zeal. “Look at history. Columbus accidentally discovered America. Chemist Plunkett stumbled upon Teflon. Physicist Roentgen found X-rays by chance…”
“And will Ian William Lenton accidentally get married?” Margaret laughed. “Bravo! You’d be a worthy entry on that prestigious list.”
“Marry the first woman I meet just to fill an empty space in my passport? It doesn’t require much wit,” Ian grumbled stubbornly. “For me, chance should take the lead!”
“Breathe, Ian!” Margaret advised. “Breathe deeply while you’re outside. You’re a sorry sight. Pale, red eyes… My husband’s married to me, which is why he’s rosy and cheerful.”
Ian obediently took deep breaths. Light spilled from the windows, and below their feet, the yellow and pink patches—coloured by the curtains—trembled.
“We’re having a lovely walk! Though I must mention my cousin…” Margaret tossed the bait once more.
“No more cousins!” Ian waved dismissively. “Forget about her! I know too well: if I’m dragged into meeting someone, it won’t work. There’ll be no surprise, no spontaneity. Nothing will stir within me and I won’t think, ‘Wow, what a twist of fate!’”
“My cousin would argue with you,” Margaret replied, “but we’ll leave her out of it, by your request. Breathe, Ian, keep breathing.”
“You mock ‘lucky chances,’ but what about you?” Ian pressed on. “Remember how you didn’t seek a husband, nor he a wife. Yet, you met unexpectedly, fell in love, and got married. Isn’t that right?”
Ian hit the nail on the head, and Margaret had no retort.
“Yes, John and I met by chance,” she concurred, toying with the leash. “It was even silly. Did I ever tell you? I was twenty and went to the city ice rink…”
“Let me guess!” Ian interrupted. “Your future husband crashed into you at the rink, perhaps you collided and tumbled together, and then you became friends?”
“Alas, dear analyst, it was quite different!” Margaret said. “I went skating, but my future husband didn’t….”
“Strange,” Ian said. “Where did you find him then?”
“After skating,” Margaret explained. “I missed the bus and was walking home with my skates over my shoulder. Cutting through backstreets, I slipped by John’s car. I landed straight on the pavement, my bottom took the brunt, and my skates flew under his wheel.”
Ian snapped his fingers—like a puzzle piece fitting perfectly.
“See how many random and happy coincidences came together!” he rejoiced. “You could have not gone skating that day, right?”
“I didn’t want to go,” Margaret confessed. “But I’d had a row with my previous boyfriend, my evening was ruined, so I wanted some time alone.”
“There you go!” Ian triumphed. “Several random factors at play. You could have not argued with your ex, not gone skating, made it on time for the bus so you didn’t have to walk… Ultimately, you might not have fallen, passed unknown John by, and disappeared into the night….”
“You’re right,” Margaret admitted. “But it went as it did. I fell on my backside and whined, the skates flew out, and John…”
“…raced to help, shouting ‘Are you alright?’” Ian guessed.
“No. He approached and said, ‘Miss, were those your skates that just flew off?’ and I told him, ‘Not funny, you idiot!’ And he replied, ‘Takes one to know one!’… and eventually, we woke up in the same bed.”
Ian Lenton needed no further persuasion. Margaret and John’s marriage served as undeniable proof of mischievous fate’s superiority over mundane intent.
“Destiny brings together those it deems fit!” Ian declared. “You know, neighbour, that I’m crafting my own formula for encounters with women.”
“Is that why you’re up half the night on the computer?” Margaret chided. “You’re as pale as a dumpling wrapper. I’d understand if you were browsing the web for ladies, but you seem to have other goals.”
“Online dating?” Ian scoffed. “It’s child’s play. Once I saw a girl online, she seemed tender and mysterious, her smile hinted at unspoken sadness.”
“How romantic!” Margaret teased. “If I weren’t married, I’d fall at your feet with my dog. But alas, I can’t. However, my dear cousin…”
“No cousins!” Ian cut in. “So, having seen this beautiful girl online, I wrote to her: ‘It was by the sea, where the foam, filigree, where the city carriage rarely meets…’”
“And her reply?”
“That angel answered in the style of a blunt Tatiana: ‘Are you stupid or something?’ And I realised, this wasn’t the chance encounter.”
Margaret laughed along with her dog, who playfully mimicked its owner.
“My mind’s mathematical!” Ian raised a finger. “Burning the midnight oil, I calculate the odds of a chance meeting with a woman I’ll love. Progress is slow, but it will happen. An unexpected meeting, an unforeseen incident, the start of something grand…”
“I truly hope you soon find this lucky coincidence!” Margaret expressed earnestly.
They parted ways. Margaret went home to feed her kids, husband, and dog. Ian returned to puzzle over his formula for random love.
***
That evening, Ian went out for a breath of fresh air again. Margaret and her dog were nowhere in sight, but a girl on a bicycle rode past. Absorbed in her thoughts, she hit a pothole and shrieked as she tumbled onto the pavement right in front of Ian.
Ian might have been a bit of a bore, but he was never heartless. He rushed to aid the fallen cyclist. She had cornflower-blue eyes, golden locks, and graceful legs.
“Careful!” Ian said, helping her up. “Why fall onto hard pavement? It won’t do your bike any good either…”
“I didn’t mean to,” the blue-eyed girl winced, holding her knee. “I wasn’t even planning on cycling through this yard! Don’t just stand there—give me a hand. Oh, my head is spinning… Let’s introduce ourselves: Amy!”
Ian tended to Amy on the bench, later fixing her bike. He was obviously thrilled to have this unknown beauty land unexpectedly at his feet. She seemed to fit neatly into his theory of chance encounters.
From behind her curtains, Margaret observed them. She knew her cousin Amy had torn two skirts and earned five bruises while learning to gracefully and timely fall off her bike…
