Widower

TW: swearing.

“’Do you like cheese?’” Bobby asks, incredulously.

Kurtis shrugs. “Seems like a valid question to me.”

Bobby deadpans.

“What? I saw it in a movie,” Kurtis defends.

“And how did that go? For the person who asked his date that question?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t finish the movie. Fell asleep.” Kurtis shrugs again, taking a sip of his drink.

Bobby slaps his hand to the side of his head. “Kurtis, come on, man. I know it’s been a long time since Barb passed – “

“Hey, don’t talk about her like that!” Kurtis interjects, elbow to table, finger scolding.

Bobby’s shoulders come up to his ears, his palms up, defensively. His face says: What the fuck, man?

Kurtis relaxes, leaning back into his seat. “Sorry. Reflex.” He offers his palms in surrender. “Continue.”

Bobby’s hands fall back onto the table. “Seriously, you gotta get back out there. You gotta find someone who will take care of you, Kurt. I can’t just keep meeting you at Taco Bell for Crunchwrap Supremes every time you get hungry.”

His mouth full of crunchwrap, his eyes widen, “Why not?”

“Because I have a wife. And I have kids. And they need me. I’m missing Jake’s soccer match right now. First of the season.” Bobby notes Kurtis’ slight deflation at his words. He lets out an audible exhalation. “Look, I know you and Barb were together for a long time – “

“Since we were teenagers,” Kurtis adds.

“Yeah, I know, buddy. You two had something real special. Her death was a tragedy. An insurmountable loss – “

“Insurmountable?” Kurtis pauses again, tilts his head. “That’s a good word.”

“The point is – Kurtis, she died five years ago. She’d want you to move on. She’d want you to find someone to take care of you. She wouldn’t want you to be alone.”

“I’m not alone, Bobby, I got you,” Kurtis says, a hint of jest in his voice.

“I can’t take care of you the way she did, Kurt.”

Kurtis stares at him, chewing.

“And you aren’t going to find someone who will by going around asking women if they like cheese,” Bobby quips.

Kurtis finishes chewing, taking his time as he maintains steady eye contact with Bobby. His expression is a stubborn knowing: he knows Bobby is right, but he doesn’t want to admit it. Once he swallows his food, he swipes a napkin across his face, crumples it in his hand, and casually tosses it on the table. The two men watch it roll and land just on the edge.

Finally, Kurtis sighs. “I know, I know,” he groans. “I know you’re right. Barb would want me to find someone else. She practically put it in her will,” he chuckles. “It’s just that… Barb and I were together a long time. We’d never been with anyone else, you know. Everything was always so easy between us. We never had to think about what to say or how to say it, we just said it! I have no idea how to court a woman, now! Hell, it’s been thirty years! What do I know about talking to women anymore?” He shakes his head, takes another sip of his drink.

Bobby offers a sympathetic look. Perhaps, he’d pushed his friend too hard. “Barb was no dumb cookie, Kurt. And you got her to stick around for thirty years. You must know something about talking to woman.”

At that, Kurtis erupts into laughter, which then quickly turns into a coughing fit. He covers his mouth with a napkin to keep his soda where it should be. Once collected, he says, “One time, when we were teenagers, we’d just started dating… Barb looked into my eyes and said, ‘Wow, you have such incredible eyes, like storm clouds settling into a blue sky – ‘“

“— Wow, she said that?” Bobby is impressed.

Kurtis nods, humming his agreement, equally impressed. “You wanna know what I said in return?”

“Huh?”

“I said, ‘Your eyes look like shit.’”

Bobby is taken aback. “What?!”

A silent, shameful nod. “Yeah.”

“Why the hell did you say that? Barb had beautiful eyes!”

More nodding. “Yup. Brown. They were the best damn eyes I’d ever seen, but hell, she made me so nervous.”

“Couldn’t think of anything else to say?”

“Nope, not at the time,” Kurtis shrugs, shakes his head.

Incredulous disgust takes over Bobby’s face as he narrows his eyes at his friend. “How the hell did you get Barb to love you?”

“Beats me. See! This is what I mean. When we were teenagers, you could get away with stuff like that. Now, everyone’s so sensitive. I say one wrong thing, and I’m, uh, what’s the word?”

“Cancelled.”

“Yeah, cancelled! The whole idea makes me even more nervous!”

Bobby’s sympathy returns. He can see Kurtis is genuinely getting a little sweaty over the idea. But he also sees the desperation deep within his aching chest. “I know, bud. That’s why I’m gonna help you,” he leans forward a little, reaching his hand back into his pocket to pull out his phone. “Dating – no one calls it courting anymore – dating is actually a lot easier now, especially for folks like you, alright. There’re niche dating sites all over the internet – “

Kurtis huffs, rolling his eyes at the word. “Oh, sheesh, I don’t know about all tha—”

“No, no, hear me out, Kurt. Let’s just try. These sites can help you eliminate anyone who would potentially be a wrong fit for you. Plus, you can send them a message before you meet them, which will give you time to think about what to say instead of blurting out, ‘your eyes look like poop!’” Bobby is typing on his phone, searching. “ – aaaand, here we are. Look at this, it’s a dating site for widows and widowers.” Bobby flashes his phone quickly at Kurtis, who takes a quick glance and dismisses it. Now scrolling, Bobby regains his momentum. “Oh, look, here’s a lovely woman who is ‘looking for a Bingo partner to join her Saturday night games. The perfect candidate would be someone who can win…’” Bobby’s reading slows. “’— preferably someone who doesn’t talk much, doesn’t smell, and would be willing to rub athlete’s foot cream on her feet after her morning walks…?” Disgust morphs Bobby’s face. “What the – “

Kurtis guffaws loudly, filling the room with his bellowing laughter. “Now, she sounds like a lot of fun!”

Bobby swipes out of her profile. “And this is what I mean about eliminating people who you’d be better off not meeting. Let’s find someone else… Oh, OK, here’s someone… She’s 42, a little younger than you. She has three adult children, and one grandchild. She’s a nurse, looking for someone to hike with during the day and drink wine with in the evenings. She likes tennis and bowling. She sounds perfect! What do you think?”

Kurtis narrows his eyes, that stubbornness playing at its edges. “What’s it say under religion?”

“Uh, I don’t know if there is –” Bobby scrolls down a bit. “Oh, nope, they have it. It says… WWJD.” He tilts his head upwards, pouting his lips. “Huh, do people still say that?”

“Nope, she’s a nut,” He puts his thumb down, making a fart sound. “Next.”

Bobby rolls his eyes, but continues to scroll. “Just because someone follows Jesus doesn’t make them a nut, it makes them morally conscious.”

Kurtis is tilting his head back to slide ice into his mouth. “She’s a nut,” he gurgles.

“OK, what about this one? Marcy is a 47-year-old widow – man, these people must have lost their spouses at such a young age…” He trails off, then gives Kurtis an apologetic half-smile. Though his eyes sadden, Kurtis just lifts a shoulder, as if to say, It’s OK. He gestures for him to keep reading. “Marcy thinks ‘romantic walks on the beach are alright, but have you ever snuck Chinese food into a movie theater? She likes to cook, but would rather order fast food and drink beer in a kayak. Books are fun, but so are live rock concerts. Marcy is looking for someone to joke with, but most importantly, wants to find someone with whom she can share her new invention: Ping Pong Jenga!’” Bobby accentuates the “uh” in Jenga, drawing it out into an “uuuuhhhh.” When he looks up, Kurtis is still, staring at him, mouth slightly agape.

“What?” says Bobby.

“She’s the one,” Kurtis says flatly.

Surprise draws laughter out of Bobby’s lips. “Really? Her? Talk about a nut!”

“No, she’s not a nut! She sounds like a fun person. She sounds perfect." His eyes lower to the cup in his hand. He shakes it, and the ice inside clatters. “I could use someone fun, to give me a little distraction. Someone a little different..." Kurtis knows Bobby can’t understand what it is like to lose a spouse, a best friend. Fun seems like an impossibility after a loss like that.

Bobby’s eyebrows are raised. “You sure? You don’t’ even want to see what she looks like?”

“Don’t need to.”

“Uh… alrighty then! OK, well, first, we gotta make you an account…” Bobby’s fingers move quickly across the screen. “Then, we’ll reach out to her, and she what she says. If she responds and you make a date, we’ll, uh, talk about appropriate compliments to give to women and normal questions to ask them.” He hands his phone to Kurtis, then slides out of their booth. “You get started. I’m gonna grab another taco. You want anything?”

Kurtis is already tapping an index finger slowly on the phone, intently focused. Just the thought of potentially, maybe, going on a date makes him nervous. “Uh, yeah. Another burrito. Don’t think I could have another crunchwrap.”

“You want the cheesy one?”

Kurtis looks up from the phone, his face teetering between disgust and confusion. “What kind of stupid question is that, Bobby? Who wouldn't want the one with cheese?”