Nathalie placed the plate in the washup stand and sighed. All done, she thought, and now what? She glanced out the kitchen window, at the quiet street. Nothing much going on, neither outside nor inside. With a snort, she hung the towel over the back of a chair and went back to the living room.
Nothing much going on in the garden, either. That was just as well - the most common happening in her garden was rabbits or deer getting past the fence to eat and dig in her flower and vegetable beds. Of course, just because she didn't see anything didn't mean it was all quiet. The slugs were out there, she knew, munching steadily on her most beloved plants.
She didn't want to go slug-hunting right now, though. She wanted... She wasn't sure what she wanted.
I want a glass of wine. Or a bottle.
Nathalie considered, for a moment. It was just seven o'clock. She could have a glass of wine --
or two, or three
-- without the slightest trouble. It was just that... she'd had a glass of wine - no, three, really - yesterday. It was shaping up into a pattern, a potentially troublesome one.
She sighed deeply. There was another, even more troublesome pattern, she was well aware, and the wine was just a way to avoid dealing with that. She turned and went back to the kitchen. There was an open bottle of white wine in the fridge.
White wine in hand, she went out to sit in the lounge chair on the patio. One of the lounge chairs. There were two. She scowled at the other one, which was more than a little silly. It wasn't the chair's fault, was it. It was her own fault. Her fault that she'd divorced her husband but kept the house, and kept much of the furniture. He hadn't been much of a house-and-furniture guy. Or a Nathalie guy, she thought.
No, the divorce had been the right thing to do. They were more than a little tired of each other. The problem was the aftermath, or the lack of it.
She wasn't
stuck
, not really. She had a reasonably nice job, a good circle of friends, a couple of hobbies she enjoyed. What she didn't have, was a - boyfriend. Was that the right word? She sipped some wine and laughed softly to herself.
Boyfriend. It sounded faintly childish. She was almost forty, could she really have a boyfriend? Did she want a
boyfriend
? She hadn't much wanted a husband, truth be told, and she'd figured that out after just a few years. Their nine-year marriage had mostly been... inertia.
All right, so maybe she was a little bit stuck. She scowled again, at herself this time, and drained her glass. There were another two glasses in the bottle. They would spoil if she didn't drink them. She carefully ignored the mocking voice in her mind, laughing at this silly bit of self-deception.
She'd just crossed into the kitchen when the doorbell rang. Who could that be? None of her friends were big on surprise visits, which suited her just fine. It was probably a door salesman...
Impulsively, she went over and opened the door. A door salesman, or at least salesboy. That was halfway to a boyfriend already, no?
It wasn't a door salesman. It was her new neighbor Roberta.
"Hi," Roberta said. "I'm sorry to disturb you like this. I'll say right up front that I don't really have a good reason for coming over, so if you're busy or want to be alone or whatever, that's fine. I'll go home."
"That's an interesting opening," Nathalie said. "Do you have a bad reason for coming over?"
Roberta grinned ruefully at her. "I suppose so. I saw you out on the patio, and - well, to be honest, I'm feeling lonely tonight, and I thought I might go over and see if you might like some company."
Nathalie considered her neighbor. Roberta had moved in quite recently - what was it, two months ago? Something like that. Two or three. They'd met a few times, and Nathalie had invited her over twice, once for tea and scones and once for a gin and tonic. She'd seemed nice. Single, some kind of manager, about Nathalie's age. And apparently lonely.
"I've heard worse reasons," Nathalie told the other woman, who laughed. "You're welcome to join me, in my own loneliness. So be warned, I might not be great company." She gestured with the wine glass in her hand. "I do have an open bottle in the fridge, though, and it would be better for my health if I didn't drink it all."
"I drink too much as it is," Roberta said, "but - yes, thank you. A glass of wine would be great. Some company and neighborly chitchat would be even better."
"Come in." Nathalie led her neighbor to the patio, via the kitchen and the fridge.
"Have a seat." She sank down in the lounge chair. Roberta took the other.
"Well," Roberta said. "Do you want me to try to cheer you up, or to join you in contemplating our misery?"
Nathalie laughed. "Misery sounds like a strong word! You're not that boring - but maybe I am?" She glanced quizzically at Roberta, who chuckled.
"No, not that boring. But here we are, on a warm, sweet summer evening, two pretty women in peak condition, and all lonely. Doesn't that sound miserable to you?"
"When you put it that way..." Nathalie sipped her wine and smiled into the glass. "You're cheering me up already," she observed. "Be careful, I haven't made up my mind what I want yet."
"Oops," Roberta said. "Let's try to cool things down a bit. So, Nathalie, tell me. Why are you lonely? Do you miss your dear husband?"
"No indeed!" Nathalie said, with emphasis. "I was even more lonely the last few years we were married. You know, when you're not alone, but still lonely."
"Ah," Roberta said, nodding and smiling sadly. "I know that, yes."
"Why are you lonely?" Nathalie said.
Roberta shrugged. "Same reason as you are, but the other way around." She paused. "My girlfriend dumped me a few weeks ago. I've been feeling lonely since."
