"I'll text you when I'm close."
"Sounds good."
I've not been this nervous in a long, long time.I showered, dressed in my best jeans and the ivory long-sleeve Henley Taylor always claimed was her favorite thing I wore.Made my forearms look good, apparently, although I admit I don't know what it is that makes one's forearms look good.Now I'm sitting in her driveway drumming on the steering wheel as I wait for her to come out, and my heart is hammering a million beats per second, and my hands are clammy.
A date, afirstdate.
At 53.
I close my eyes and knuckle my forehead, sighing—but closing my eyes only provides a blank canvas on which my memory paints a rather vivid picture of a topless Morgan.
The passenger door opening startles me, and I jump guiltily as Morgan slides in beside me."Shit!"
She snorts a soft laugh."Sorry, didn't mean to scare you.Thinkin' deep thoughts, were ya?"
"Something like that," I mutter, my eyes scanning her.
She's showered too, her hair in a damp braid over one shoulder, the braid pulled through the opening of a white ballcap with the logo of her figure skating academy on the front.She's wearing a pale green top that makes her dark green eyes pop even brighter…with a low, scooping neckline that shows a lush expanse of cleavage.Stone-washed jeans with rips in the thighs, exposing stripes of creamy skin.
"How's your burn?"I ask, putting the truck into gear.
She rolls a shoulder dismissively."Fine.I put some aloe on it after my shower."
Small talk is easy with Morgan, it turns out.We chat on the short drive from her house to Lorna's downtown—town gossip, how the coverage of the upcoming hockey game has brought more tourists than ever to our sleepy little town, and whether I've heard Jukebox's new original song.The small talk extends to sipping coffee while we wait for Maggie to take our orders, and while waiting for our food to arrive.
It's not until our orders have come and we've tucked into our food that the conversation shifts away from small talk.
"Can I ask you a personal question?"Morgan says, forking egg whites onto her avocado toast.
"Sure.Anything."
She smirks."Anything?"
"Didn't say I'd answer, but you canaskanything."
She huffs."Valid."A sip of coffee—half a creamer, a tiny sprinkle of real sugar."Is this…is this your first date?Since…" she trails off, obviously at a loss for how to finish that thought politely.
I take pity on her."Yes.This is my first date since Taylor passed."
She winces."Sorry.It's none of my business—"
"No, it's fine."I reach across the table and wrap my hand around hers that's clutching her mug, fingers inside the handle."I did Zoom therapy for a good year and a half, actually.And one of the things that helped me come to terms with everything the best was just simply making myself say it out loud.I avoided that for months—couldn't say her name, much less voice the fact that she was gone.Dr.Zavadi made me face it—I had to say it out loud: ‘Taylor is dead.She passed away.’” It still makes my throat tight."Still hurts, but…it's real, y'know?Like, saying it out loud is hard but effective.As long as I refused to acknowledge it, I could keep pretending she'd just, like, show up one day, likejust kidding, I'm here.Facing it and speaking the reality took that pretense away.Which sucks on one hand, but is necessary, on the other."
She removes her hand from the mug and threads her fingers into mine."I don't know if I'd be that brave."
I shake my head."Not bravery, honey.Just reality.You can't escape reality no matter how hard you close your eyes and hum."
She nods.“Yeah, I know that's the truth.You've just…I admire how well you've handled your loss."
I shake my head."You didn't see me on the bad days, Morgan.There were days I couldn't get out of bed.Days I buried myself at the bottom of a bottle of Jack.Days I was so angry at the world I didn't dare leave the house or I'd end up in jail."
Her eyes glitter, wet."You lost your wife, Noah.You're allowed to fall apart.You put yourself back together.Youandyour son both.”
I smile."Thanks, I guess?I suppose I'm just glad it happened when he was an adult.I don't know how I'd have managed if he were still a youngster."
"My ex-husband," she whispers."That day that we kissed in my kitchen.It was my ex-husband who gave me this delightful mess of insecurities.That and almost twenty years of loneliness and celibacy."
My mind boggles."You haven't—"
