Coffee Date

I don’t know why I let Ashley talk me into this. I wasn’t interested in dating. It had only been eighteen months since my beloved husband, Eric, had passed away. I wasn’t ready. I told her so. But she insisted. She was my polar opposite, tall, blonde and she had what one could only describe as a bubbly personality. I was shorter, brunette, and a bit… morose.

I should have stopped her when she got the genius idea to create an online dating profile for me. But I ignored it and hoped nothing would come of it. Ashley had good intentions. But they do say the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Weeks later, she appeared on my doorstep with a “Guess what?” in her sing song voice. 

Oh no, I thought. What kind of shenanigans is she going to get me into this time? 

“You matched” she said. 

“With what?”

“ A guy … duh!” she laughed.

She had found the perfect match she said with glee. I made us some tea, and we sat down to chat.

“I’m really not interested Ash, I told you that. I’m just not ready.”

“Just wait till you see his picture, you’re going to die” she said, as she reached into her purse to pull out her phone.

The man’s name was William. He was thirty-five, six feet tall, blonde and blue eyed. He was the curator of a local art gallery. It opened last year, and I had been meaning to go check it out. He was educated, gorgeous, and his photo had a dog in it. I also had a dog, so that was comforting at least. My dog is a Border Collie, his name is Dash. My late husband and I had adopted him from a rescue when he was eight months old. He was ten now. There was no way I could ever tolerate a man who didn’t like my dog. He was my rock after Eric died.

Ashley said we had matched, she messaged him and told him the deal. It was an account she made for her friend who was a widow. She showed me the messages. He was fine with my history, good with my dog, and was excited to meet me. That’s surprising, I thought. I didn’t understand why he would want to meet me, and not any of the countless other beautiful women seeking a man. While it was a mild ego boost, I still protested. Ashley wasn’t hearing any of it. 

“You have to get out there, even if nothing comes of it. You have to stop hiding from the world and start living again” she said.

Fair enough, I thought. Maybe it was time to live in the light again. I had been, not living, under a black storm cloud since Eric died. 

Eric and I met in middle school. From the moment we met we were a couple. We just knew we were meant to be together. We dated all through high school, and on to college. Then we got married and built our careers. We had just begun to think about having children, when the accident happened. He was on his way home from work and fell asleep at the wheel. In that moment my life changed forever. 

Eric was tall and blonde, he looked a lot like the actor who plays Thor. His eyes, a gray blue. They always reminded me of the sea on a stormy day. Certainly Ashley thought tall and blonde was my type, because Eric was. 

Truth be told, I didn’t have a type. My type was Eric, my husband, I still said those words like they were true, “My husband” was the only man I ever dated, or knew intimately. Another truth, I was certain I died along side him that day. I didn’t want a life without him. I had done nothing but mope around our house. Our beautiful house, filled with beautiful things we purchased together. Everything was a reminder of him, and I liked it that way. Souvenirs from vacations we took together, photos of our life. His clothes and other items remained where he left them, As if he would walk though the door at any moment and claim them. 

No, I wasn’t ready. I knew it. I was still madly in love with a ghost. Everyone seemed to say, “eighteen months” like it was ten centuries. But for me, it was only eighteen months. I could still smell him on his clothes. How could I let him go? 

I knew Ashley just cared about me. It was as simple as that. She cared. In this world a genuine friend who cares for you, and asks for nothing in return but the same care, is more valuable than any precious metal or stone. I wanted to scream at her, to leave me alone with my ghost, let me just whither away, and join him. It’s all I really want. However, I care about Ashely too, and her feelings. So I refrained. 

She wasn’t wrong. I wasn’t living, I knew Eric wouldn’t want this for me. He had told me before, in quiet, intimate conversations, that if he ever died, he wanted me to be happy. If that meant with someone else then so be it. I on the other hand, did not want that for him. I wanted him to mourn me forever and never even glance at another woman. 

But that would never come to pass, as my beloved husband was gone. Gone forever and I would never see him again. Never speak to him. Never laugh with him. Never sleep snuggled up in his arms. He was dead and I was alive. I had to start acting like it. My friends and family were worried. I know they didn’t want to lose me too. It probably seemed like they had. Socializing wasn’t something I sought now. It was something I was forced into. I’d show my face to prove I was still kicking, and then say I was tired and go home.

Ashley chattered about this Mr. William for over an hour. I nodded along. 

I told her I really didn’t want to do this. But I knew the way I was living wasn’t healthy. I also knew if I kept it up, I may begin to lose friends. 

So I agreed to go meet Mr. Perfect. A tiny step for some, but it was a mountain for me. 

She said, I was to meet him for coffee, at two p.m. that Friday. Our meeting was to take place at his gallery. I was passionate about art, I had minored in art history in college. She had told Mr. Perfect that, so I’m sure he figured it would be a nice ice breaker. Good luck, to him, I thought, no one was going to melt the ice that surrounded the gaping hole that once held my heart.

Friday rolled around, and that morning Ashley came over. She was going to help me pick an outfit out. I acted as if I had forgotten about the whole thing, but inside I had been dreading it all week. I even had a nightmare about it. 

I made us some tea as Ashley looked through my closet. She picked out a red sun dress. “This one is perfect” she exclaimed. “We are having coffee at an art gallery, not going to the beach” I said. We settled on a pair of tweed trousers and a silk, navy blue top, with a beige blazer over it. She said I looked like I was going to a business meeting, I laughed and said in my best and terrible, Kevin Hart impression “When did this become a whore house?” This made tea shoot right out of Ashley’s nose. She laughed so hard, I was concerned she may have a stroke. When she composed herself, she said with a glint in her eye, “See, you’re already getting back to your old self.”

I almost turned around multiple times, on my way to the gallery. This is stupid I thought. I am not ready for this. I don’t want to do this. I miss my husband, and I feel like I am being unfaithful to him. Waves of guilt flooded through me.

I reminded myself, it was till death do us part. I was alive and he was taken on to the next life without me. 

As I pulled into the parking lot, I saw him. He was standing at the entrance, holding two cups of coffee. He looked just like his picture. He was quite handsome, in a “not Eric” type of way. I parked and sat there for a moment. “I can do this, I can do this” I whispered to myself.

I got out, stood up straight and headed for the entrance. I walked right up to him and said, “William?” With all the false confidence I could muster. He smiled, a bright and very white smile, with perfectly straight teeth. He said, “I am so glad you came, I got us some cappuccinos.” Ok nice enough I thought, as I followed him inside. 

William took me to a new exhibit, it was an up and coming artist. He spoke of each painting, how it made him feel, techniques the artist used. He was very knowledgable. He asked me questions and considered my thoughts on different paintings. It was no doubt, going well. William was warm, intelligent and genuinely interested in me. 

I found myself talking about more than just the paintings. I talked about Dash, and my home, my family and friends. I couldn’t bring myself to mention Eric. William didn’t bring him up either. 

I noticed that his eyes sparkled when he spoke of things he was passionate about. Which included, his dog, Herman, hiking, rock climbing, and almost every other physical sport one could think of. 

That explains why he’s so fit, I thought. He certainly wasn’t lying on his profile, when he said he had an athletic body type.

Before I knew it, it was getting dark. We had spent hours just walking the gallery and talking, It was lovely. I felt human for the first time in eighteen months. I felt seen and heard, not just pitied. I smiled, and laughed. William had a sarcastic sense of humor, much like my own. He indeed was, Mr. Perfect. 

William asked me if I would like to join him for dinner. I said yes without a second thought. I must admit I was a floating around a bit, on cloud nine. I was enthralled. I wanted to spend more time with this handsome man. 

Dinner went splendidly. We went for sushi, one of my favorite meals. We talked and talked. I was pouring my heart out to this man, this man I didn’t know. I felt a real human connection and I realized how much I was missing, hiding under my bleak, and black storm clouds.

The time had come for our beautiful date to end, William reached for my hand as he walked me to my car. I was a bit shocked, but I let it happen. No other man had ever dared touch me, I was a married woman. Except I wasn’t. 

When we arrived at my car, he said beautiful words. Those words played in my mind, in the finest of scripts. He spoke of wanting to see me again, of how beautiful he thought I was. He said he could see a future with someone like me. 

He reached into his pocket for his wallet, and pulled out of it, his business card. “My phone number is on this card” he said. He didn’t ask for my number, leaving the ball in my court for a future date. I took the card and put it in my pocket.

That’s when he leaned in for a kiss. I found myself leaning in too. When our lips met, I felt something I had not felt in over a year. Excited. My heart leapt in my chest. He pulled back and flashed that perfect smile. “Our first kiss” he said.

I hugged him, and got in my car. He headed off to his car. I waved to him as I pulled out. 

What an incredible date I thought. Ashley was right. William was everything I needed and more. I smiled so much during that drive, my face hurt. 

I was so elated, I didn’t realize I was on autopilot, and driving a way home I had been avoiding. As a passed the spot where Eric had crashed and lost his life, I was reminded of our life together, and how much I missed him. My elation turned to sorrow, and then to guilt. I decided to take a detour and go visit Eric at the cemetery. 

I went and sat next to his grave and wept. I told him all about the date, and how wonderful it had been. I told him every detail, even the kiss. When I gathered my emotions, I stood up. I pulled out William’s business card. I looked at his handsome face, printed on the card. ”He was so perfect, but he isn’t you, no one will ever be you.” I said to the grave, as I tore up the card and threw it into the cool night breeze.

I was grateful for Ashley, and to William. They reminded me that I was still alive, and living needed to be my priority. Human connection was vital. However, I gave my heart to a boy in the seventh grade, and he holds it for me still. He will return it when I join him in our next life. Until then, I will be living this one. Remembering to enjoy it.