by Marilyn Grey
Hours passed. Literally like minutes. We talked about everything from music to what kind of houses we like. The time went too fast, spinning us right into the next morning.
Patrick looked at his cell phone. “You won’t believe this.”
“What?” I smiled. “Is it almost sunrise?”
“Not quite, but close. It’s four in the morning. I haven’t done this in years.”
“I don’t know if I’ve ever stayed up this late.” I rubbed my eyes. “And I have to work tomorrow.”
“You mean today.”
“Yes, thanks for the reminder.”
He looked at me. Silly grin turned serious. We sat close all night, often touching arms or legs, but he never tried to kiss me. The thought made me nervous. I promised myself my lips would never touch another man’s lips until I knew it was the one I’d marry.
I looked away. His fingers brushed my hand, finally resting on top of my fingers. I looked back to his dark eyes.
“I’m sorry.” He squeezed my hand. “I really want to kiss you.”
I nodded and smiled. He touched my chin and made me look at him again.
“This is so hard for me,” he said. “It’s been a while since she died, but I never thought I’d fall in love again, much less desire it as much as I do now.”
I looked down at our locked fingers. She? He brought up a she in the middle of a perfect first kiss moment? Dee never mentioned a she.
“I’m sorry.” He squeezed my hand again. “Did I say too much? Are you not interested at all?”
I tried to smile. “You didn’t say too much.”
“Dee told you about my wife, didn’t she?”
I raised my eyebrows. The she is a wife. Speechless, I stared at him, but he said nothing. I put on my shoes. Patrick did as well. The previously married man that I almost let myself kiss. I stood and he reached for my hand. I moved over.
“Patrick,” I said. “I have to be honest with you. I saw a guy in a coffee shop when I was younger. It’s been years since then, but I think about him every day. Dee set me up on this date because, well, I guess because she knew you and I would like each other.”
He nodded. “I haven’t felt like this in a long time.”
“You are a great guy. Attractive, sweet, funny, smart, and creative. You are everything I’d ever ask for in a husband. Of course we don’t know each other well, but I could have easily given my heart to you after this first night.”
He nodded, a mixture of sadness and excitement painted in his brown eyes. “I think that’s a description of a nice man, but not this one.”
“And add humble on top of that. Listen”—I took a breath—“I have loved this guy I’ve never met for the last few years. I’ve promised myself I would wait for him and never give my heart to another person. I know I’m probably crazy and maybe I’ll never meet him. Maybe there isn’t one person. Maybe soul-mates don’t exist. I don’t know, Patrick. I honestly don’t know. What I do know is that my heart belongs to that man across the coffee shop, and yours belongs to your wife.”
“Everyone tells me I need to move on. I understand your point and your desire to wait for this other man, but what if you never meet him? I know I will never bring my wife back to life. She’s lying in the ground right outside of Philly.”
My eyes watered. “You are lonely. I am, too. But that doesn’t change the fact that you have a wife and I have a husband. Just because we can’t kiss them doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”
“You don’t think I should move on?”
The ivory moonlight emphasized the tears in both of our eyes. “I don’t think you should. You just referred to her as your wife. You didn’t say ex-wife. Go put your ring back on. Stay faithful to her even now. There is only one and you found her. Just because life took her too soon doesn’t mean you have to take her out of your own life.”
“That seems impossible.”
“It does. And I won’t blame you if you get married again. I know I’m idealistic. I know I’ll probably spend the rest of my life single, but I’d rather be single forever than married to someone else. Maybe this was meant to happen so that I could see that. Maybe it was meant to happen so that you could see it, or just to know that you can fall in love again if you want to.”
“This has been the most interesting night of my life, hands down.”
I laughed. “I agree.”
We walked back to his car and drove back to the restaurant in silence. We exchanged phone numbers at the end, gave each other a warm hug, and I even gave him a kiss on the cheek.
“Keep in touch,” he said. “I want to know if you ever find this man. He is one extremely lucky guy. Your story should be in the news. I’ve never heard anything like it.”
“Thanks.” I laughed. “Well, it won’t be worth the news if I end up single until I’m ninety.”
“Yes it will.” He smiled. “Trust me, it will.”
Ch. 10 | Matthew
"What were you thinking?” I said to Gavin as we walked down the busy city street toward coffee and deliciousness.
He laughed. “She seemed nice. I had no idea it would be that bad.”
“Bad doesn’t do it justice, Gavin.”
He laughed again.
“I’m serious, and you expect me to go out this weekend with another one?” I shook my head and squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t think so, man. You couldn’t pay me.”
“You’ll go. I promise this one will be better.”
“I’m not doing it. No more blind-dates. Just let it go and if I’m meant to find someone, that’s great. If not, that’s wonderful. Blind-dates don’t work.”
“What if I allow you to set me up on a blind-date too?”
“Yeah. I can count the amount of girls I know on one hand, and they’re married. Being with someone for the last few years didn’t give me much time to meet single women.”
“Which is good.” He opened the door to Chances. “How about this . . . I will try a dating site and you will go on another blind-date.”
I followed him into the cafe. The sweet aroma of chocolate cake and coffee found its way to my wallet. We only intended to come in and check on his paintings, but by the time I got to the counter I already mentally ate an entire slice of triple chocolate cake.
“You getting something?” Gavin said.
“Yeah. And about the blind-date thing . . . no, thanks.”
A young man, probably just out of high school, stood at the register. “Can I get you guys something?”
“I’ll get a piece of that cake, and also an iced caramel latte.” I handed him a twenty.
Gavin looked around. “Is the owner here?”
“No,” the guy said. “She was supposed to be here this morning, but she called and said she’ll be in later this afternoon.”
“Okay, thank you.” Gavin glanced at the walls. “I gave her some of my art to look at and wanted to check and see what she thought about it.”
“Can you come back this afternoon? She will be here then. I’m new here and don’t know much about the art.”
“I can try.” Gavin said, then turned to me. “You going to be around tonight? Maybe we can come back for the live music and have a talk about your future dates.”
The cashier guy gave me a brown paper bag and my coffee. We nodded, thanked him, and walked outside and toward our apartment.
“I have a job later, but you should definitely come. This would be a great opportunity for you.” I sipped the refreshing latte and scarfed down the cake in two bites.
“Whoa.” Gavin smiled. “Would you like me to go buy you another piece?”
I grinned a chocolatey grin. “I’m good, but you should get one for yourself tonight. I can’t even describe how good that was.”
“Weird that we used to work there. It looks like a completely different place.”
“Tastes like a completely different place, too.”
Gavin and I passed time playing music together until he left to
meet the Chances owner and I went to check out a new job site. Normally I did consultations during the day, but this woman worked at home during the day and preferred me to come later. Evening it is, I said to myself as I drove out of the city and into Collingswood, a nice little suburban area in Philly.
I pulled into her driveway and gathered my papers and paint sample books, then walked up to her door and knocked.
No answer.
I ruffled my papers a little, looked at my watch, and knocked again.
A few seconds passed and the door opened.
“Oh, hey,” she said, her bright eyes catching the sun. “You must be Matt. Sorry, I had music on as I was cleaning and didn’t realize you were knocking. You weren’t standing here too long, were you?”
I smiled. “No. Just a few seconds. It’s no problem at all.”
She pulled the headphones out of her ears. I heard Ben Folds Five before she turned her iPod off. “You can come in and have a seat.”
I followed her to the living room. “It’s not every day I hear of someone listening to Ben Folds as their cleaning.”
She motioned for me to sit on the couch across from the chair she sat down in. “I know, I know. Not the most pick-me-up song in the world, but I love singing with him. It actually does motivate me in a weird way.”
I looked behind her at the bare walls and into the empty dining room. “So, did you just move in?”
“Actually,” she said, looking around her, “I’ve been here for a year now. Hard to believe, I know.”
“You are looking to paint every room in the house?” I really didn’t think she could afford it. She barely had any furniture except the couch and chair we were sitting on.
I tried not to notice her beauty as she pulled her hair into one of those messy hair things women do. She looked around again, silent. I watched her. Looked as though she were calculating things in her mind.
A slight smile hid behind her teeth. “My husband and I moved here one year ago. Our first home together.” She put her hand on her stomach and took a deep breath. “He always wanted to paint the house, but I kept saying we couldn’t afford it. So now I want to surprise him and have the entire house painted.”
“And he doesn’t know?”
“Well, he died a month ago.” She held her stomach again. “I’m seventeen weeks pregnant with our first baby.”
I nodded, unsure of what to say. I mean, what do you say to a beautiful woman who is seventeen weeks pregnant with her dead husband’s child?
“It’s okay,” she said. “I know it’s hard to find words. It doesn’t make sense to me either. Andy always wanted to fix up the house. He worked so hard to buy this house and when we finally moved in we could barely afford food, much less furniture and paint and new floors.”
“Yeah, well if it makes you feel any better I’m older than you and I live in an apartment with my best friend from high school.”
She laughed, her gorgeous smile accentuating her lips. Definitely could be a model. Definitely.
“At least I’m assuming I’m older than you,” I said. “Probably the safest assumption I could make, huh?”
“I’m twenty-four,” she said. “We were married when I was twenty-one. Took us three years to get this place and then we got pregnant. I never expected to be alone right now.”
“What happened to Andy?”
She looked down.
“I’m sorry. I said too much.” I pulled out the paint samples. “Do you want to go over some color samples?”
“No, you didn’t ask too much. It’s just hard for me to remember that this is not a dream. My husband really died.”
“I’m really sorry, Heidi. I don’t know what to say.”
“It’s okay.” She sniffed a little. “He was killed by a drunk driver on his way home from work. At three in the afternoon. Can you believe someone was already drunk at that point? I’ve sent him letters.”
Silence.
“I figured only someone with their own problems could be drunk at three in the afternoon. And after killing someone? I hope he doesn’t lose his mind and kill himself too.”
We both looked at each other. I couldn’t believe it. This beautiful, young wife already a widow and soon-to-be single mother, genuinely concerned about the drunk guy that crashed into the man she married. It’s not every day you meet someone like her.
“I was on the phone with him when it happened,” she said, eyes blurry.
I nodded, realizing my own mortality.
“The last sound I remember is that deathly car crash sound. You know, screeching tires against asphalt, the bang of a collision, and glass shattering everywhere. Then the phone died. I immediately left the house, running barefoot. We only had one car at the time and I work from home.” She shook her head. “I ran and ran until I finally found him, only a mile from the house. When I finally reached the car the sirens were getting closer. I didn’t see him anywhere. Nowhere in the car or anywhere around it. We had an old car. The driver’s side seatbelt stopped worked shortly before our emissions test. It was one of those shoulder belts that slides along the car door with a separate lap belt. I begged him to get it fixed.
“Anyway, I screamed at the top of my lungs. I just screamed his name over and over and over again. Then I ran to the other car. No one there either. That’s when I saw him. My heart literally felt numb. Across the street I could see his arms twisted behind his head. His femur sticking out of his thigh. Clothes stained red. With more red pouring out and making a puddle around him. I ran to him. Knelt beside him and forced his eyes open. I’ve seen a lot of expressions on his face, but there’s nothing like seeing someone lifeless. His eyes looked straight ahead. Face relaxed. Jaw dropped and drool mixed with blood pouring onto his collar.”
I took a deep breath.
“Anyway.” She wiped her eyes. “I said too much. I didn’t mean to overwhelm you with my tragic story. You’ve only been here five minutes. I’m so sorry.”
“No, no.” I shook my head. “I understand. I’m glad you could get some of that out again. I can’t imagine what you must be going through.”
“It’s hard,” she said. “My family lives in Virginia and I have no friends here. I moved here for him. His parents don’t like me, never have. They even blame me for his death and refuse to talk to me, save the occasional email to ask how the prenatal appointments are going. They want me to name the child Andrea or Andrew after him. They told me I’d be a horrible mother not to, but Andy hated that. He never wanted a child named after him. He wanted them to have their own unique name. But I know there is good in this. There’s always good in every circumstance. Just depends on how we look at things.”
“I guess that’s true.”
“And no, I didn’t mention all of this to get free paint.”
We both hid our pain and confusion with a laugh. I couldn’t help but cringe when I imagined this young, pregnant newlywed holding her mangled husband’s body in a ditch. The pain she must have been enduring seemed unbearable to me. And I thought I had problems.
I spent the next three hours at her house. Neither of us could believe it. We walked through each room and as we talked about colors she told me more of her story. She had a personal reason for every color she chose. I didn’t mind hearing her talk. Something about her I enjoyed. She brought me peace. And it wasn’t that she was so beautiful I had to consciously tell myself not to be attracted to her. It wasn’t that at all. It was the beauty inside of her that affected me so much. How many women lose their husband, paint an entire house all sorts of meaningful colors from their relationship, and talk to the paint guy without a single hint of flirtation?
I liked her, in a completely non-romantic way. Part of me couldn’t wait to come back and paint the house. It wasn’t a small house. Not big either, but enough rooms to keep me busy for a few weeks. Most of my clients aren’t home when I paint, but she worked from home. I couldn’t wait to get to know her better.
I know it’s hard
to believe, but I really didn’t think of her as a potential date. In fact, she wouldn’t allow it. She twirled her rings and talked about Andy as though he were still alive. I know why, too. It became so clear by the time I left our consultation.
He never died to her.
Ch. 11 | Ella
Another day in the coffee shop, another strange day in the life of Ella Rhodes. Dee sat in my office, across from me, staring at me like I had lost my mind.
“I know it’s unrealistic of me,” I said as she leaned back in the chair across from me. “But I know what I said to Patrick was right. I could never forgive myself for marrying someone who fell in love and watched his bride walk down the aisle just a few years earlier. One bride is enough for every man. If one bride isn’t enough, then why bother with faithfulness anyway?”
“Ella, Ella, Ella.” She stood and sighed. “You live in a dream world.”
“What’s so dreamy about that?”
She walked to the door. “Who has the desire, much less the strength, to marry only one person in their lifetime? What about people who are abused? Or Patrick? There is a such thing called until death parts us. You really expect him to stay faithful to his dead wife even if he lives until he is a hundred years old?”
I nodded.
“No one lives like that. It’s unheard of. You’re missing a perfectly good man because you think he should only have one wife in his lifetime. How do you know if she was the infamous one? What if she had to die so he could meet someone else?”
“I don’t know, Dee. You’re getting too deep for me. I don’t sit around and think through logistics. I know what I feel doesn’t make sense. I know my life doesn’t make sense. But maybe that’s exactly what I want. Maybe I don’t want to live by sense. Maybe I want to live by love . . . love that is unheard of. Love that stays faithful, even if death parts us.”
Dee rolled her eyes with a smile. “You are a fascinating person. I’ve met my fair share of fascinating people, but you are definitely unique in your own way. I think you live in a world no one else has ever found, and probably never will. You’re going to be lonely forever if you don’t get your head out of the clouds.”
