Divorce is never easy, even when you know it's inevitable. We gave our marriage until the kids had all left the house. Of course I fought for the house since I was the one who made it a home. That was my job. Kids and home. My husband was the breadwinner and, boy, was he good at that, so I got a pretty hefty alimony so as to not disrupt my lifestyle. The problem is what do I do with all my time and money now that the kids are gone?
I take a sip of my coffee and scan the cafe. I see only single parties--an Asian twenty-something reading on her tablet, a balding mid-life crisis-er typing on his laptop, a handful of punky teens tapping their smart phones, all mutually ignoring one another. I'm the only person in here not staring at a screen. Doesn't anyone just people watch anymore? I take another sip of coffee and feel someone watching me. Tucked back in the corner is a man, I'm guessing the same age as my oldest son, mid-twenties. He gives me an impish smile reminiscent of Dexter Morgan. Chills run down my spine. I look behind me to check if there's a pretty young girl that he could be looking at. Nope, no one is behind me. Turning my head forward, I see him still watching me. He gives me a little finger wave, his lips curl up into a grin. My stomach flips. It's been way too long since I've felt a man's touch. All my friends say I need to get back on the horse, that I'm still young and deserve a nice guy.
Our eyes are locked and I'm wondering why this guy is so interested in me, a fifty-six year old. It's been way too long since I've played the childish staring contest game, though I know I could win with all the practice I had with my kids when they were young. I avert my eyes and check my watch. I don't really care what time it is. When I look up he's standing across the table from me.
"Can I sit?" he asks.
"Um, yeah, sure," I almost choke.
He takes a seat and says, "I've seen you in here before."
"Oh really?" I've never seen this man before in my life. "You don't look familiar to me."
"I usually sit back in the corner, working."
"Oh, what do you do for work?" I ask, not trying to pry but just to make pleasantries.
"I'm a writer."
"Oh really, anything I might have read?"
"Probably not," he says. "I'm a freelancer, just submit articles to magazines. Some of them get published, some not."
"Well, that's got to be interesting work," I say.
He shrugs, "Eh, I get by. What do you do?" he asks.
"You're pretty much looking at it," I say with a sigh. I'm not interesting at all. Soon my new friend will bore and return to his corner.
"Are you retired?" he asks. "You look too young for that."
I laugh, "Well thank you. I guess you can say I'm retired. I was a housewife, stay-at-home mom. Now the kids are all grown and out of the house, so it's just me."
"No husband or partner?"
"Divorced," I say dryly.