That first year, I thought about her all the time. The girls did, too, especially at bedtime, when they’d cry for their mommy. It tore at my gut. It was such a relief when they fell asleep—except then, I didn’t have the girls as a distraction. The evenings had been our private time—the time Christine and I would watch TV together or read together or just talk. After she died, that was when I’d missed her like a phantom limb. I don’t feel that anymore, and the lack of pain feels wrong.
I wandered downstairs. I glanced at the TV, but felt no urge to turn it on. There were journals on the coffee table that I should probably read and various electronic screens to scroll through, but instead, I wandered outside, the monitor in my pocket, leaving the screen door open for extra insurance.
From the back porch, I could see the bench swing next door swaying back and forth. My chest jumped. Hope.
I haven’t known how to act around her ever since I kissed her—especially since that second time. I don’t really know what came over me—well, I do know, and it was out of character for me to act on desire like that—and I’ve found myself thinking about her a lot.
There’s a lot you can tell from a kiss. I don’t know if it’s taste or smell or texture or what, but a kiss will tell you about chemistry. I’ve kissed a few women since Christine, and I hadn’t felt it, but with Hope... oh yeah, it was there, all right. It was there in spades.
Kissing her changed the way I thought about her, I have to say that. I’d found her attractive before, but now... well, she’d become kind of an obsession.
Which is weird, because she’s not really my type—at least, the type I went for before I was married. Maybe that’s why I’m attracted to her—she’s a novelty, a distraction. The fact I didn’t think of Christine when I kissed Hope didn’t strike me as exactly a good thing. I felt bad about not feeling bad. But maybe that’s good.
I stood there listening to the tree frogs and watched her swing for a moment. I started to turn and go back inside, but just as I did, she seemed to sense me.
She turned her head, then lifted her hand in a wave. “Hello,” she called.
I walked down the porch steps, away from the house so my voice wouldn’t wake the girls. “Hello, yourself. Want some company?”
“Sure—if you can leave the girls.”
“I’m listening to their every move on a baby monitor.”
“Then come on over.” I found the opening in the hedge, wedged throughout it sideways, then crossed the lawn. She moved over in the wooden swing, and I sat down beside her, setting the rhythm akimbo.
We weren’t touching, but I felt her next to me. My pulse thrummed like the tree frogs’ rhythmic song. “The girls’ room is looking great,” I said.
“Glad you like it. I’ve started sewing the drapes and canopies, and should have everything finished up next week.”
“The girls will be thrilled.” I, however, I was going to miss her being there. “How’s the packing and sorting going with your grandmother?” I asked.
“Gran and I seem to be sorting through a lot more than her possessions,” she said. “And I’ve gotta say, I’m having a bit of a hard time processing it all.”
“Oh yeah? Tell me about it.”
So she did. For the next few minutes, she poured out a riveting tale. “Gran doesn’t want this gossiped about, so please don’t tell anyone,” she cautioned.
“I’m an attorney. I’m good at keeping secrets.”
She nodded. “I figured it was safe to tell you.”
She trusted me. I don’t know why that gave me a warm buzz in my chest, but it did. “That’s an amazing story. How does it all make you feel?”
She grinned at me. “You sound like a shrink.”
I was struck by a sense of déjà vu. “Actually, I sound like Christine. She used to ask me that, and I would always reply, ‘You sound like a shrink.’”
She laughed. “I’ve got to tell you, it’s kinda weird to be marital role-playing with you.”
“In reverse.” In the distance, a dog barked. “You know what’s really weird? To be talking about her like this.”
“Like how?”
“Like... lightly. I worry so much about the girls’ and her parents’ feelings, I hardly ever mention her because I don’t want to make them sad.”
“You don’t have to worry about that with me.”
And it was a relief. I nodded. “But we were talking about you and your grandmother. Are you shocked?”
