“Have you given anymore thought to your long-term plan?”
“Yes, I have. And I promise I’ll find a babysitter who can—”
“That’s not what I mean,” says Bonnie. “You need to get back out there and meet someone. Someone who could be a partner to you…a mother to your kids.”
This is well-trod ground between me and my sister and I roll my eyes but hold my tongue. Bonnie waited a year before getting on my case about dating, but now that she’s got it in her mind that I need to meet someone? She’s relentless.
“It’s not that simple, Bonnie.”
“Well, Luke, it’s not that hard either. Don’t you miss having someone?”
“I miss Wendy,” I answer honestly, but it’s only a partial truth.
I do miss Wendy specifically, but I also miss having someone.
My bed is so empty, cold and lonely, I’ve considered getting a twin-sized instead. I haven’t sought out any “female” companionship since my wife’s passing. At first, I wasn’t interested, my natural instincts tamped down by grief. I can’t say that’s true anymore, though. I miss a woman’s touch, her voice, her smile, even her things in the bathroom. But loving someone again just to lose them? No, thank you.
“Of course you do. I miss Wendy. The kids miss Wendy. I hate it that the twins will never know her…but, Luke. You’ve got to be lonely. You need someone.”
I’m standing in the hallway, just outside the classroom where I was teaching, and I lean against the wall, letting my head fall back and my eyes close as I confess, “I’d rather be lonely than lose someone else all over again.”
“What happened to Wendy was terrible, Luke. But it was an accident. A freak accident.”
“Yeah, well, it happened to me. To me, Bonnie, and however long it takes me to start moving again—to—to want to get involved with someone else again—”
“What if it takes another year? What if it takes forever?”
“Then I guess it takes forever,” I snap back, my eyes blinking open.
“It doesn’t have to!” She sighs, lowering her voice back to normal. “Your attitude sucks.”
I don’t reply because deep inside I feel that as long as my kids are fed and clothed and I get my ass to work on time every day, I’m entitled to a shitty attitude. I was dealt a raw hand. I’m still sad. I’m still angry. And no matter what Bonnie thinks, I’m not ready to meet someone.
“I can live with that,” I say, hoping this conversation topic is spent. “I’ll come and get Gilly from you after—”
“Well, Luke…I can’t.”
“You…can’t what?”
“I can’t live with you like this…which is why I…well, I…”
“Bonnie Jean.” The hairs on my arm stand up. “What did you do?”
“Well, I could see that you weren’t getting anywhere on your own—Let mama buckle you in, honey. There we go!—so, I...” The twins are fussing in the background because my sister’s trying to get them settled in the car, so she can drive over to the school to get my daughter. My hackles go down. Whatever she did, I’ll deal with it.
“Did you set me up on another date, Bonnie?”
“Nope.”
“Because I really can’t take another lonely widow talking about her dead husband. It’s too depressing.”
“I know that. Besides, Sitka’s small and you know everyone. If there was anyone you were interested in, you’d have already made a move…”
Phew. “Glad we’re on the same page.”
“…so I put an ad in The Odds Are Good magazine.”
I step away from the wall, my eyes widening, my fist balling at my side. “You…what?”