Page 74 of Someone to Remember
“I enjoy your company, Angela, and not just because you get what I’m going through in a way that no one else in the world can.”
“Oh, well… I enjoy yours, too, and not just because of how we met.”
“Would you consider…”
“What?” I ask, feeling as breathless as I sound.
“It’s probably too soon.”
“For what, Brad?”
“To ask you out on a real date. No kids, just us.”
“Um…”
“It’s too soon. I know it is, but you’ve been the brightest light to me in this hellish situation, and all I seem to want lately is more time with you.” After a long pause, he adds, “And I’ve said too much and made it weird.”
I laugh because how could I not? He’s too funny. “You’ve been a bright light to me, too, and I find myself wondering all the time what you’d think of whatever is happening at the moment.”
“So it’s not just me?”
“Definitely not.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” Another long pause follows. “But it’s still too soon, right?”
“My Wild Widows have taught me that there’s no such thing as too soon or not enough or too much or whatever the rest of the world dictates widowhood should look like. Our journey is ours and ours alone, and we’re not bound by rules set for us by people who’ll never know what we’ve been through—and are lucky not to know.”
“I wish I was taking notes right now. That was very well said.”
“I can’t take credit for Wild Widows material. It’s validating—and freeing—to hear them say there’re no rules, no expectations, no need to meet anyone else’s requirements.”
“I like the way they operate.”
“I do, too. It’s why I keep going back. I need to hear that I’m allowed to do this my way, not the way someone else thinks I should do it.”
“My wife’s sister is judgy about everything. She actually said to me, ‘If you start dating, don’t tell me. I can’t bear to picture you with anyone other than Mary Alice.’ Like, gee, thanks for the support. That was the last thing I needed to hear from her.”
“That’s her own grief talking. She’s so lost in it that she can’t see the forest for the trees. I have to think if she was thinking clearly, she’d never say such a thing to you.”
“I’d like to think so, but who knows? Maybe that’s what she really thinks, that I should be alone for the rest of my life in some sort of tribute to Mary Alice.”
“If she cares about you, she’d never think that.”
“Anyway, enough about her. Are you going to answer myquestion or leave me hanging like an eighth-grade boy who asked the prettiest girl in school to the dance and didn’t get an answer?”
“Did that happen to you?”
“More deflection, Angela.”
Speaking of middle school, my nervous giggle is right out of seventh grade, except that nothing this exciting ever happened to me then. “I’d love to go out with you sans kids for once.”
“Phew. That was a long wait from question to answer.”
“It was kind of a big question.”
“True, but let’s not make it into the big deal that everyone else will. Let’s just go out and have some fun. Can you think of any two people who deserve that more than we do?”
I pull into the driveway at home, cut the engine and turn off the lights. “I can’t.”
