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MEG
“What did you do today?” I ask my dad as I finish the last touches on the fall field trip sign-up sheet. I’m having a hard time balancing the phone on my shoulder as I type, so I give in and let the phone fall to the bed. It takes a minute for me to find the speaker button, and when my dad’s voice comes on, I realize I’ve missed half his answer.
“He’s good to talk to, you know, because his wife is dead too.”
“Yeah, I bet,” I say so he knows I’m still here. I can’t answer more than that because I missed the entire context of what and who he’s talking about.
“We ate lunch and talked a little bit. Then I came home.”
I straighten. “Wait. You went out to lunch with some guy?”
“No. I picked up some tacos, and we ate them at the cemetery between Mom’s grave and his wife’s.”
“Ohhhh.” I drag out the word now that I get the gist of what he’s talking about. “That’s great you’ve found a friend.” I glance over my email one more time, making sure the link to the Google Doc is attached, and push send.
“He’s not the only new friend I’ve made.”
“Really? Who else?”
“I met a woman.”
Everything freezes, and my chest feels tight.
“Meg?”
“Sorry, I was sending an email.” I try to keep the shakiness that I’m feeling out of my voice. “You said you met a woman? Where?”
“At the singles’ dance last night.”
“I thought the dance was last week.”
“I told you, there’s one every weekend.”
My body tenses as I listen to him. “Oh.”
“Her name is Anna Mae. She’s a wonderful dancer. A wonderful person, really.”
I glance at the picture of my mother on the nightstand next to my bed. It’s a picture of the two of us the day I graduated college. I close my eyes and tears spill out, trickling down my cheeks.
“We danced the entire night, and then I asked her if she wanted to go to lunch with me this week.”
My stomach is in knots. “What did she say?”
“We’re going to my favorite taco place on Tuesday.”
It’s just lunch, Meg. Don’t overreact.
“Look at you, making so many new friends.” I infuse my words with as much cheeriness as I can so that my dad doesn’t know I’m dying inside.
“There’s one other thing.”
I hold my breath. I don’t know if I can handleone other thing.
“She looks like your mother.”
My chest falls as I release the tension I’ve been holding. “What do you mean?”
“Anna Mae looks exactly like your mom. They have the same hairstyle, same coloring, same kind of makeup. It’s really something. I’ll send you a picture of her and Mom next to each other that Tessa made.”
