Page 23 of From Rivals to I Do

“Yes sir,” Noah and Zack reply, Zack’s face lightening up a bit just in time for Mitch to come out.

“Need a hand with dinner?” Mitch asks.

“Sure,” I say as I hand him a cutting board, a knife, and veggies to chop. “Going to make some fajitas.”

“Ooh! My favorite!” Mitch says cheerfully as he sits down and begins to slice things up. The four of us chat amongst ourselves,

shooting the breeze and getting to know one another better.

Dinner is delicious as usual—thanks to me—and after dinner the boys take off to their rooms after we clean up, leaving Mitch and I

alone to hang out in the living room. I take a seat in my worn-out armchair and turn on the TV as Mitch sort of wanders around the

room, seeming to be scoping the place out.

He stops short of the mantle as he inspects the picture there, picking up the picture frame in his hands. I know what’s coming, and my

heart drops into my stomach as he opens his mouth to speak.

“Ooh wee! Who’s the vixen here with you and your boys?” Mitch asks, and I find myself struggling to keep myself together enough to

answer.

“That’s my wife, Melanie,” I say.

“Oh! Well, where is she?” Mitch asks, appearing to be confused.

“She. . . she’s no longer with us,” I reply, my voice cracking a little bit.

“Oh no. . . I’m so sorry, Eli, I didn’t know,” Mitch says. “I would have never said that.”

“It’s okay,” I say after clearing my throat. “It’s not like you’re wrong, she was ethereal, like an angel, you know?”

“Definitely,” Mitch agrees as he puts the picture back down. “She was gorgeous.”

“She sure was,” I say with a half-smile.

“I hope this ain’t too forward, but what happened?” Mitch asked, and my blood chills. I knew eventually this conversation would

happen. I have plenty of pictures of Melanie everywhere, family pictures too. So, I might as well finally tell him what happened.

“She got killed in a car accident,” I reply. “It was a really rainy, autumn night. So, it was already a bit slippery out there from the leaves

and the wetness on the roads. She was going to turn onto the road that comes up this way from town, and some jackass in a sports car was drunk. Slammed on his breaks, but not in time. . . so he smashed right into her as she was turning.”

“Jesus,” Mitch replies quietly. “I’m so sorry. How long has she been gone?”

“A decade now, about when I hired you, actually,” I reply. “It was hard. Still is.”

“I can imagine,” Mitch replies. “That’s not something you can easily get over.”

“No, it ain’t,” I agree. “I wish I could say it gets easier and give you a bit of comfort. . . but I’ve just learned to live with it because that’s

what she would have wanted. For me to keep going.”

“I guess that is all you can do,” Mitch agrees with his head hung low as he sits down on the couch next to me, and I flip the channels

on the TV. “Golly, ten years is a long time.”

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