Lovely Girls(4)

The loneliness that hit me was so overwhelming, I thought it might swamp me, tipping me over like a small boat in a raging storm.

I wondered when I would get used to being alone. Other than Alex, I didn’t have anyone in my life. No one I could call up and say, “Hey, I just need to hear a friendly voice,” and then chat with about nothing or everything for a half hour. How had this happened? Was it a by-product of being a working mom, my attention ping-ponging from work crises to caring for my daughter? Somewhere along the way, I’d gotten out of the practice of having friends. I’m not exactly sure why. I always made an effort to be nice to everyone, even when I wasn’t feeling particularly friendly.

Could people sense that? I wondered. Did they suspect that my warm nature and bright smile were just a facade?

Most of the people I knew back in Buffalo were say-hi-in-the-grocery-store sort of acquaintances. My mother was an emotional drain, and my father was emotionally distant. My one sibling, my sister, Lori, was seven years my senior and had fled to Seattle for college and never returned. We exchanged Christmas cards. I hadn’t realized the extent to which I’d isolated myself until after Ed died.

Although it wasn’t exactly like my marriage had fulfilled me to the point where I didn’t need other people in my life. Ed and I had not been in a good place when he died. Quite the opposite.

Thank God he died when he did, a voice inside my head said.

Stop, I told it.

“Excuse me?”

I glanced up and saw that there was another single party at the coffee shop. It was a man who looked to be in his forties, probably about my age. He had dark hair lightly streaked with gray and was reading a hardcover book.

“Sorry?” I replied.

“You said ‘stop,’” he said.

“I did?” I did? If I had started blurting out my inner monologue, I was in deep trouble.

“You did,” he said.

“I’m sorry.” I could feel my cheeks growing hot.

“Don’t be.” When he smiled, I noticed that he had kind eyes. They were dark brown and dipped down at the outer edges, which gave him a soulful look. “I haven’t seen you in here before. Are you new to the area?”

“Really?” I asked.

“Was that cheesy?” he asked.

“A little.” I softened the words with a smile and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

“I guess I need to work on my witty conversation starters,” he said.

“You could come up with a list of offbeat yet interesting questions to ask random strangers,” I suggested.

“You mean like, Have you read any interesting books or seen any good movies lately?”

“No, those are the worst kind of questions! It puts way too much pressure on the other person. I’d have to come up with something that makes me seem smart and witty. What if the last movie I saw was Spider-Man? What does that say about me?”

“Which Spider-Man franchise? Tobey Maguire, Andrew Garfield, or Tom Holland?” he asked interestedly.

“Wow, that went sideways quickly.”

“Based on your answer, I deduce that you either have a thing for superheroes or you live with one or more teenagers. Probably the latter. But I think I can do better. Hold on.” He paused, looking up as though contemplating the great questions of the world. Then his face lit up. “I know! Do you have any special talents? Or is that too high pressure?”

“No, that’s good. But only because I have a special talent. I can teleport anywhere in the world just like that.” I snapped my fingers.

“So you don’t just have a thing for superheroes, you actually are a superhero?”

“Basically,” I admitted. “But I don’t like to brag about it.”

He frowned. “That’s not fair. When it was my turn, I was going to tell you about the time I won a bubble gum–blowing contest when I was a kid. But that’s lame compared to actual superhero powers.”

I shrugged modestly. “Sorry? But I mean, the bubble gum thing’s pretty cool too.”

He shook his head ruefully. “I know it sounds like it, but when the bubble burst, the gum got in my hair, and my mom made me get a buzz cut. I spent the rest of the summer looking like a skinhead.”

“That sounds traumatic.”

“You have no idea.”

I laughed and then took a sip of my coffee. It made an empty slurping sound. I’d been so caught up in the conversation with this stranger, I hadn’t noticed I’d finished my drink.

“Can I get you another coffee?” the man offered.

“Thanks, but I should get going. I actually am new in town, and I need to get back to my unpacking,” I said, standing and shouldering my leather bag.

The man stood too. He was only a few inches taller than me, but he had a strong, solid build. He held out his hand. “Joe Miller.”

“Kate Turner,” I replied, shaking it.

“It was nice to meet you, Kate Turner. Maybe I’ll see you around again sometime. If you decide to teleport back here,” he said.

“Maybe,” I agreed.

I could feel the smile lingering on my lips as I left the café. Maybe I had made the right decision moving us here after all. Where no one knew us. Where we could make new friends, create new memories. Exist in a space that wasn’t crowded out by grief and regret.