by Melinda Metz
His friend went in from another angle, grabbed the pretzel ball, and kept on talking. “Because if you don’t do it now, it’s just going to get weirder and harder, and then you’re not going to be able to make it happen even if you’re a hundred percent positive you want it to, and you’ll end up a sad, lonely old man.”
“I’ll end up a sad, lonely old man? You sound like you’re writing dialogue for your next episode,” David told him.
“I’m serious,” Adam said. “It’s been long enough. Lucy thinks you should go on counterpart.com.”
“This is what you and Lucy talk about when the kids are finally asleep? No wonder you never get sex,” David answered.
“Online dating makes sense. You can take it slow. Get to know each other before you meet. And you can think about what kind of impression you want to make. I’m not telling you you can never mention Clarissa. Just not in the first five. You want more of these?” Adam pointed to the empty appetizer plate.
“More?” David protested. “Don’t you mean any?”
“We’ll get more.” Adam signaled to their waitress, pointed to the plate, and gave her a pleading look, complete with hands clasped to his chest. She laughed and nodded. “We’ll also get more drinks. And before we leave here, we’re getting you up on Counterpart. I’m a writer. I’m sure I can find a way to make even you sound appealing.” He studied David. “People are always saying you look like Ben Affleck, but that’s not the vibe we want, what with the cheating and the gambling. And, actually, since you’re supposedly writing this, it would probably sound egotistical to describe yourself like a celebrity anyway. So, we’ll just go with the basics: thirty-three, brown hair, hazel eyes, six-foot-one, what, about one-eighty?”
David nodded. His friend was on a roll. There was no stopping him now.
“We have to put in that you’re a baker. Women will love that. They get you and your hot fudge sundae cupcakes. Maybe your profile pic should have you kneading dough or something. It would be like that scene in Ghost, but dough instead of clay,” Adam went on.
“I’m not asking why you’ve seen Ghost.” Actually, David had seen it himself. Clarissa had watched it for the first time when she was about twelve and it had made an indelible impression. Whenever it came on TV, it was like she’d become hypnotized and had to watch to the end.
The waitress appeared with another plate of appetizers and took their new beer order. “Okay, what else? What else?” Adam muttered. “Get out your cell and set up the account while I think.”
David got out his phone, because Adam was Adam and he was relentless. But he just looked at the site without signing up.
“We’ll put in that you have a dog. Shows you can at least keep a living thing alive.” Adam was scribbling on a napkin now.
“How desperate are we thinking these women are?” David asked.
Adam ignored him. “We’ll leave out your silent-movie obsession for now, because that will limit your dating pool. You like long walks on the beach, right?” Adam asked.
David tried to remember the last time he’d gone to the beach. Not since Clarissa. Less than an hour away, a lot less if the traffic was good, and he’d been acting like he lived halfway across the state. “You can’t say I like long walks on the beach. That’s the biggest cliché ever. I wouldn’t want a woman who would want a man who said he liked long walks on the beach.”
Adam grinned. “Just wanted to make sure you were paying attention. You’re getting into this. Admit it.”
Was he? Maybe he was. A little. Maybe Adam was right. Maybe even if he didn’t feel like meeting anyone, he needed to try. Try more than that lame attempt he’d made with the woman at the bar, which had been all Adam’s idea. “Maybe say I volunteer with Habitat for Humanity,” he suggested.
“I like. Makes you seem like a guy with a heart, and also like a guy who might be able to fix things around the house.” Adam scribbled away. “We should also say something about what kind of woman you want, what you’re looking for.”
What he was looking for. Someone who was always up for trying something new. Someone who believed there was always something great out there to discover. Someone who—
He realized what he was looking for was Clarissa.
It felt like one of the salty pretzel balls had formed in David’s throat. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He struggled to fight down the grief that had shocked him with its strength. Suddenly it felt like Clarissa’s death had taken place yesterday.
“Look, I know you’re right. It makes sense for me to try to meet someone new. But I’m not ready,” he told Adam. David thought he’d managed to keep his tone casual, but Adam must have seen something of what David was feeling on his face. His friend crumpled up the napkin and jammed it in his pocket.
“I’m not saying forever.” David shoved his hands through his hair. “Just not now. I don’t know, maybe next year.”
Melinda Metz is the author of the Roswell High series, basis of the hit television show Roswell. She is an Edgar Award nominee for the Wright and Wong mystery series, written with Laura J. Burns. Melinda lives in North Carolina with her dog, Scully, who exhibits some catlike behaviors—such as seldom coming when she’s called.
