Page 93 of Grown-Up Second Chance

“Nice to meet you, Diane. Charlotte Quinn.” We shook hands. “Do you still live near Butte?”

“Right now I’m on a year-long road trip with my sisters.”

“Oh, what fun!” Charlotte laughed. “We’d have to rent three RVs to do that,” she said. “There are nine in my family. All girls. Can you imagine?”

“No,” I said.

“And when you’re done with your road trip?” she asked.

“I’m not sure about where I’m going to settle.” I decided to ease the poor woman’s mind. “I spent most of my adult life in the San Francisco Bay Area. I’m seriously thinking of returning there. Can’t beat the weather.”

“I’ve been to San Francisco a few times. All those hills! But you’re right. The weather is lovely.”

“I’m trying to convince her to come home,” Joe said.

“Come back to all our snow? She’d be out of her mind.” Her laugh sounded like a bunch of kindergartners hitting their triangles at the same time.

She seemed like a nice woman. She would be perfect for Joe.

I took a step toward him.

“It was nice catching up,” Joe said to Charlotte, placing his hand on the small of my back to guide me toward the church.

Ordinarily, I hate that kind of gesture but right now, it was perfect.

This Sunday was one of those endless days of Pentecost. What had they called it when I was a kid?

Ordinary time was what the few nuns attached to the parish called it. Nothing special going on. Kind of like most of life. Once the big milestones of life—first day of school, becoming a teenager, the coveted driver’s license, college, wedding, babies—had passed, it was all ordinary time.

Ordinary time is where one lived one’s life.

Automatically, I followed the service ritual that had been ingrained into my body at an early age: standing, sitting, kneeling, singing, listening, responding. A few things had changed since I’d lapsed, but the rustling around me always cued me that a change was coming.

The routine of Mass, enlarged, had been similar to the routine of my life: get up, eat, work, eat, work, head home to the second shift, eat, settle onto the couch with Larry to watch television. Sex punctuated the end of the week.

And so my life had passed.

Damn! Sorry, God. I hadn’t really been living.

At least this trip would throw a curve in the road.

Then I’d have to grab my life with both hands and make something of it before it was too late.

I glanced at Joe next to me. Where did he fit in?

And my brain was off. What if this? What if that? Every once in a while, I tried yanking my brain back to what was going on in reality, but it was too familiar and my mind felt it had permission to play. Shuffling feet was my only clue the service had ended.

“Thanks for coming with me,” Joe said as we sidled out of the pew. “I hope you got something from it.”

I nodded. I hoped he didn’t quiz me on the sermon. I had no idea what the jocular priest had said, but from the chuckles, the congregants had enjoyed it.

As we walked down the aisles, a toned and fit woman with blonde styled hair said, “Now don’t run off, Joe. We’ve gotten some goodies for a good-bye party for you.” She leaned in. “I baked the cake myself.”

“We’ll be sure to stop by,” Joe said.

The woman flicked a glance at me, then turned to continue down the aisle.

“Another member of your fan club?” I asked.

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