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I bend down and pull at the grass around her headstone where the cemetery gardeners didn’t cut it. Next time I visit, I’ll bring my own trimmer and cut the long ones myself. I throw the grass aside and scratch the side of my neck. I’ve been stalling long enough.
“So,” I say, letting out an overdrawn breath. “I have a date.” The words feel like poison as they come up my throat, but I still manage to get them out. “It’s a blind date, and I don’t want to go. Logan set it up—some twenty-something woman at his office. He says it’s time that I get back out there, start trying to move on.” I grit my teeth. “How did we get here, Kristen? How am I going on a blind date as a thirty-three-year-old single dad?”
I can picture Kristen laughing at me. She was never the jealous type, so I’m sure she’s finding it hilarious that I’m going on a blind date after thirteen years of her being the only one in my life.
A gray Lexus pulls down the lane of the cemetery and parks by the curb.
“There goes our intimate date.” No more whisper conversations for me. In fact, I’ll probably leave. I don’t like visiting Kristen’s grave when other people are there visiting their loved ones.It’s awkward.
An older gentleman with a beige bucket hat and a beige fishing vest steps out of the car. I’ve seen him here a few times before. Apparently he likes to spend his free nights the same way I do. The man grabs a blue camping chair from the back of his car. He has a bag full of takeout and a newspaper tucked under his arm.
“Nice night,” he says, nodding his head in my direction.
“Yeah.” I raise my brows halfheartedly. Now what am I going to do with the rest of my evening? Krew’s birthday party doesn’t end for another hour and a half.
The man stops at a grave fifteen feet away from Kristen’s and opens his camp chair, placing it in front of the headstone. He looks over at me. “You hungry? I ordered an entire box of tacos.”
I am hungry, but I’m not about to sit down and mooch off some old widower at the cemetery, no matter how lonely I am.
“No, thanks.” The smell of cilantro and lime wafts over to me as he opens the food container, and my stomach rumbles.
“Is it your wife?” he says.
“What?”
He points to Kristen’s grave. “Is it your wife that you come visit?”
“Oh.” I clear my throat. It never gets easier to talk about it. “Yeah.”
“Me too. She died four months ago.”
“Eighteen months for me.”
“Her name was Marilyn. She died of lupus.”
I stick my hands in my pockets. “Kristen. She was in a car accident.” I don’t add any additional details. The man can fill the rest in with his imagination.
“We were married for forty-five years. What about you?”
“We weren’t as impressive as forty-five years.” I smile. “Kristen and I were only married for ten.”
The man shakes his head. “Don’t discredit those ten years. It’s hard work being married.”
I look down at Kristen’s picture, fitted perfectly into the stone. It wasn’t hard to be married to her.
“You got kids?”
I shift my body toward him. “One boy. Krew. He’s almost eight. What about you?”
“One boy, three girls.”
“Four. Wow. Are you close with them?” I’m trying to be polite before I leave.
“Too close, but they’re a nice distraction from the loneliness. My oldest, Matt, doesn’t live here anymore. He’s in Houston, but my three daughters all live near Tampa.” He waves the box of food out in front of him. “Come have a taco with me, and we can keep talking.”
I look at my watch, even though I have nowhere else to be. Eating a taco with him is better than the alternative of driving around town, killing time until Krew is done.
I shrug. “Okay.”
