I was stupefied as I looked over the different cuts of meat. From my right came a soft voice, "Didn't she tell you what kind of roast?"
"She would have if she were still here. All the kids are coming this Saturday and I'm trying to make her Italian Beef recipe, it says to slice the roast before marinating, but I don't know what kind of roast."
"If you have the recipe with you I might be able to help." She looked at the recipe card, handed it back and told me the sirloin would work well.
I thanked her and went on with my shopping. I'd seen her at this store previously, always by herself, like me. My late wife Maryann had died physically just over 6 months ago, in truth, she had been dead almost two years, it just took that long for her brain to figure it out. The kids talked me into selling the business and leaving the upper Midwest for the panhandle of Florida, where our daughter and family lived.
I'd been shopping at this market since I moved here. It was a new concept for Wal-Mart called the Neighborhood Market. Where I had lived there were no close Wal-Mart stores, so I'd never bought groceries at one before. People said it would be dirty and poorly stocked, in fact, it was just the opposite and less expensive than the main stream stores.
As I rounded an end cap I was looking sideways and almost ran into her cart. We were startled, smiling as we passed each other. In the paper goods aisle there she was again, looking at the variety of toilet paper. I grabbed the one I normally use and smiled again, mentioning I could remember when there were only two or three choices.
She was a pretty lady, not very tall though, perhaps 5'5", she didn't have a "toned" body, cantaloupe size breasts, cleavage half way to her navel, or pants so tight you could see through them. Nope, she was just the average middle age woman shopping for groceries. Her black hair was cut shoulder length, she wore a floral print blouse and stark white shorts. Not the long baggy kind, they were snug but not revealing, maybe two to three inches below her butt. Breasts appropriately sized to her body, nice waist, no muffin top over her shorts, her tummy wasn't flat, it had that cute little roll you see on so many ladies who have had a baby or two.
I could easily envision sliding my hand down the front of those shorts unimpeded. When she bent over I looked for panty lines but didn't see any, no way this gal was commando, then through the upper portion of her shorts I noticed the triangle thing at the top of her thong. Holy shit, she's wearing a thong, I thought only younger chicks wore those. As she stood she quickly swung her cart around to go the other direction. I was still going over my list and crossing things off when her cart hit mine. I quickly apologized and moved my cart for her to pass by.
As she started to walk past she stopped, smiled and said we needed to stop meeting like this. My weekend with the kids went okay, the Italian beef was as good as moms according to the reviews. On Tuesday I was back at the market doing my normal weekly shopping. As I was picking up a bag of salad mix I heard that soft familiar voice again.
"I thought all you big strong men didn't believe in eating "rabbit food" as I believe it's called."
"Guess I didn't get that memo. I like the spring mix, and though the iceberg mix is less expensive, it makes me belch for hours. I generally have a salad for lunch, it tides me over until supper."
"Supper, now there's a word I haven't heard in years. My late husband insisted the evening meal be called dinner. It was one of those things not worth arguing over."
As for me, I'm no prize, 5'10", an average guy with an average build, still have my own teeth and most of my hair. Unlike many, I managed to make sure my belly wasn't hanging over my belt. I wouldn't call myself over weight, but I'm not skinny either. Like a lot of older men, I tend to dress in jeans and a t-shirt. As I said, average.
I extended my hand and introduced myself, "Name is Edwin, nice to officially meet you."
She extended hers to shake mine. "Edwin huh, I see your parents didn't like you anymore than mine liked me. They named me Letha, after my great grandmother. We both have old people names, but then we fit that category don't we."
We were in the produce aisle, blocking the way, we moved between the produce tables with apples etc, where we once again blocked the aisle. It was late morning, I asked her if she'd ever been to Mr. Chens just down the street. She hadn't, we agreed to meet there at noon, and went about our shopping, passing a few times, each time greeting the other by our first name and smiling. I noticed she had a small hitch in her step and wondered if it was a bad hip.
It was enjoyable having an adult conversation with another nearly my age, she had changed from shorts to a pair of those low jeans, I think they're called low rise, with her blouse tucked in. I thought to myself that if her underwear were as low as those jeans she must be one sexy lady. She's 56, I'm 60, both living on our own, both bored, knowing we were without our life long partners, but knowing life goes on. She mentioned she saw no salad dressing in my basket and wondered if I made my own. I explained I didn't like salad dressings of any kind and that I used fresh lemon on my salads. She'd never heard of that and thought it was a good idea.
We talked a bit on the phone every few days, even attempted texting with surprising success. We surprised ourselves with how well we'd done in this new technology of our grandkids. Our grocery shopping rendezvous became so much fun we began meeting early each Tuesday morning for breakfast at IHOP for their 55 and over menu. The cost wasn't the issue, it was the portions, the over 55 menu was just the right amount of food. We reasoned that if we ate prior to shopping we wouldn't buy as many groceries, that didn't work at all. Neither of us were impulse buyers to start with, so we ended up getting what we had on our lists.
At one of our breakfasts I mentioned it was so hard to shop and cook for one person. She agreed, who likes to cook for one and then eat alone?
"I wouldn't mind cooking for you Letha, I cooked for years when Maryann was still with me, but too sick to do anymore than function. Nobody ever went to the hospital because of my cooking."
"Let me think about it Ed. I need you to know I'm not looking for a friend with benefits, I think that's what they call it now. In our day we just called it shacking up. I have no aversion to another marriage, my first was good enough I'd do it again. However, if I become intimate, it will be with a life partner, not a romp in the hay relationship."
I agreed. "My first was good as well. The first 30 were the best, the last years were a nightmare. I'd do it again though if I met the right gal."
"Well Ed, there are always those websites where you can call and, fffuuu, oops sorry, what's it called now, hooking up, with no strings attached."
"Sure, a guy, or a gal, can do that. I said. But one must consider how many other people may have contacted that person before you did. Just how many men or women are you sleeping with, who knows what kinds of diseases you could contract. No thanks, my needs are not so strong that I 'm willing to go that route."
"How do you meet your needs Ed. Do you need the little blue pills to be active?"
"No blue pills yet, all of that equipment seems to work just fine. As for my needs, it isn't an issue, as I said, my needs aren't that great. If I don't allow myself to think about, I don't have issues. It sounds overly simplistic, but it isn't. You will either control your emotions and desires, or you won't. In the end, we do what we want to do."
