Dating For Decades (9 page)

“Fine.”

I’ll trust him, but those gorgeous eyes better not screw me.

Well, maybe.

Chapter

Eleven

The rest of the week with Lucas is tolerable. I avoid him when possible, but run into him an awful lot. We even occupy the lunch room together one day. Most of the half hour we spend in silence but exchange a few words. By the end of the week, he even makes me smile a few times.
 

I’m relieved Saturday finally arrives and I’m teaching my class. As much as these old fogies don’t understand technology, they at least look to me for direction and don’t try and correct me in my own class.
 

We spend the beginning of the class getting everyone set up with their account. Even the man who fell asleep during the first class pays attention. Now we can dive into the ins and outs of Facebook.

“The fun part is next,” I say with forced enthusiasm. I don’t consider this fun at all, though I’m not a frequent visitor, so maybe that’s to blame. “We get to add your friends. The best way to start is to search for your family. Type in the name of your spouse or a sibling, maybe your son or daughter. If your grandchildren are old enough, you can look them up, too.” Users are supposed to be at least thirteen to use the site. I’m sure much younger than that do, but considering some of the things Shannon tells me are on social media, eighteen may be a better requirement.
 

I scan the room and not one person is typing. “Do you see the bar with the magnifying glass in it? Type a name in there.”

The light bulb goes off in their heads and they begin pecking at their keyboards. Not having grown up in the computer age, I’m sure none of them have ever taken a keyboarding class. I can type almost eighty-five words per minute and that’s without even looking at my computer while I’m doing it. Waiting for these people to type in a few characters is enough to drive me crazy.

I step slowly around the room as I observe the names they type. A few are hovering their mouse around the ones with multiple names. They’re definitely confused.
 

“You can tell if you’ve found the person you’re looking for based on their profile picture and where they are located. If you want to add that person, click the Add Friend button. They will receive a notification you want to be friends and will either accept or reject it.” I need to interject a warning here. “Sometimes your family members
will
reject you.” Much like in real life. Better they find this out now. “This is most often between teenagers and their parents. Their parents often want to be friends, but who wants their parents spying on them online?” Had social media been a thing when I was a teen, I probably would have welcomed my mom snooping. At least that way I knew she cared.

Lucille is typing and typing, but she isn’t clicking to add anyone. “Don’t you want to look for your daughter or grandkids? They’re the ones who wanted you on here.”

“Ah, phooey. I’m on. That’s all they need to know. They’re in my business enough. They don’t need to be seeing what I’m doing on here, too.”

I like her spunk and attitude. I hope I have her attitude when I’m her age. Who am I kidding? Of course, I will.

“Okay, who can we search for, then?”

“Billy Brown, Class of 1949. We separated in 1938, after the first grade. His family moved away and I have no idea where he disappeared to.”

“Wow. Someone you knew in first grade?” I’m thirty-nine and can barely remember anyone’s first name from my grade school years, much less their last name. “Brown is such a common last name. I’m not sure if we’ll find him.”

“Honey, he may not even be alive. But you bet I’m looking.”

“Should we add a few friends at least? Sometimes you have mutual friends. So if you find someone you went to school with back then, that person may be friends with him.”

“Okay, but I’m doubtful. I’m sure most people my age are either dead or banished to a nursing home by their kids.”

What a depressing statement, though she doesn’t seem bothered by it at all. If my mom cared enough to be around when I was a kid, maybe we’d have a decent relationship now. If that were the case, I doubt I would want her in a nursing home. Now, I don’t give a damn where she is. That stupid letter sticks in my mind, the way she loops the letters of my name together and the hearts to dot her i’s as though that’s enough to pique my interest to see her again.

“Tell you what.” I push my thoughts of
her
away. “I don’t go on here much at all, but why don’t you add me?” I reach past her and type in my full name. My profile pops up, my younger-self looking back at me. I click the Add Friend button. “As soon as I get on here again, I’ll accept it. And just add your daughter and grandkids. That’ll make them happy.”

She yanks the mouse away, her fragile fingers swiping cold against mine. “Fine. But if they start sending me those game requests I hear them talking about all the time, I’m dumping them.”

“Fair enough.” Another reason to avoid that place. Everyone I meet who frequents that place plays a dozen games. I have better things to do with my time. “Is there anyone else you want to look for?”

“Nah. That’s good enough for now.” She snorts. “I can’t believe I’m even doing this. My husband is probably turning over in his grave. He hated computers.”

“Were you married long?”

“Fifty years.” She shakes her head and places her hand on her forehead. “He was a wonderful man. I loved him with all my heart and soul. He didn’t leave suddenly. He had an illness for many years.”

Should I ask for more information? Does she want me to inquire? Small talk was never a strength of mine.

“He suffered from Alzheimer’s,” she says reading my uncertainty. “What a horrible shame. By the time he left, he had no idea who I was.” Her fragile hands are shaking now and she wipes a tear. “It took a long time to come to terms with that, but I’m sure he knows who I am now.”
 
She pulls her head back, her eyes meeting the ceiling, showing me her faith, something I lost years ago.

“How did you know he was the one you were going to spend your life with?”

“If I’m being honest with you, Billy Brown probably would’ve been the man I married had he not moved away. Once he left, I vowed to find someone with as much compassion and liveliness as Billy. And I did. Stan loved me and our family with every ounce of his heart until he forgot who we were.”

“You don’t need to continue,” I tell her as I see her struggling with her words.

“No, no. It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s very healing to talk about Stan. You asked how I knew he was the one I should spend the rest of my life with. That’s easy. He listened.”

“He listened?”

“Yes, he listened. When I needed to talk about something or vent, he always listened to me, regardless of how busy he was or how dumb the subject matter. He always took the time. I think that’s rare and hard to find. No one wants to listen to someone complain about the clouds in the sky or the dust settling on the mantel. But Stan did. He wanted to hear my ups and downs and wins and losses. If it was in my heart, he wanted to know.”

Shannon is the closest I’ve met to someone matching that description. I haven’t met a man who wanted to hear everything about my life, and, honestly, I’ve yet to come across someone I want to know all that stuff about either.
 

“Is there a man in your life you can tell me about?”

“I doubt it. I haven’t been married, nor will I ever be. And even if marriage did interest me, I’m not even close to putting on a wedding gown.”

“Such a shame, dear. When I was your age, I was already married and had my children.”

“I’m not planning on having any children either so that doesn’t worry me. No biological clocks ticking here.”

She stares at me, truly horrified. “I don’t understand the women of your generation.”

“What do you mean by that?” I’m interested in her theory of “my” generation. Each generation complains about the one after it, as though theirs reins king.
 

“All these women today want to be independent and think getting married puts some sort of chain on them. It’s a partnership, not an imprisonment.”

“True. However, on the flip side of things, why does a woman’s life journey seem to revolve around finding a man to take care of her?”

She takes her hand off the mouse and places her hands in her lap. “Now, Dear, I never said your life had to revolve around your husband. But don’t you want to find someone to connect with, to share your heart with, and have as much time as possible with that person?”

I understand what she’s saying. I really do. Yes, living decades with someone I love would be wonderful, but I’m not forcing myself to connect with anyone. When it happens, it happens. I’d rather spend forty years single and happy than even one married and miserable.

“Plenty of my friends are married and even have kids, but it’s not for me. My focus is on my career.” Not to mention I’ve only ever seen one solid relationship in my life, Shannon and Ben’s, and now they’re one counseling session away from proving that untrue.

“My job was raising my kids and tending to my husband. I didn’t need to go out and make money. I made a home.”

“Things have changed.”

“I wouldn’t say for the better.” She checks the clock on the computer. “Class is almost over, so I’ll keep searching next week.”

Fifteen minutes remain of class. My views on marriage obviously offend her. Still, I adore her. I hope she finds Billy Brown and true happiness.
 

At least one of us should.

Chapter

Twelve

I roll my hand across my stomach in hopes the massaging settles my gurgles inside. Tonight is Keith’s first meeting and I’m officially introducing him as a member. After class on Saturday, I meditated and considered all my options. I’m being stubborn, allowing my competition with Lucas to shade my view on everything else. I called Keith and hired him for the job and invited him to the group. I’m nervous but feel good about my decision.
 

I’m relieved I have nothing to share tonight because I’m not so sure I want to divulge too much of my personal life with him. We’ll be working together, and I’ll see him every day. This may be awkward and uncomfortable. Oh, hell, why did I agree to this? What on Earth was I thinking? Then Lucas’ smug face with perfect eyes and lashes I would die for enters my mind and I remember.
To take my job back.

I prep the snacks and refreshments, including the water which I’ve infused with cucumber and mint along with a pot of coffee. I may need the full pot myself tonight. Next to the coffee I’ve placed a variety of cookies. I sure could use them right now, but I’m not going to eat away my stress.
 
My mom did drugs to deal with her life. Had she realized she just had to take responsibility for herself and me and sought out the help of her family, maybe we both would have been better off. I learned the hard way, though, about addiction. Within months after separating myself from my mother I gained thirty pounds living off a diet of sweets. Shannon kicked me in the ass and helped me lose the pounds. I owe her so much.

Cheyenne arrives first and grabs four cookies. That girl could eat every cookie there and not gain a pound. I work hard to keep my extra weight off and applaud her for being able to eat like she does. Luna arrives next and tells me she came right from dinner and she’s stuffed but grabs some water. A few others show up after her and take their seats.

“Are we going to start?” Cheyenne asks after about ten minutes of chatting about her new college courses. She’s working toward an associates degree in Psychology. I’ve asked multiple times what she plans on doing with it. Right now she’s a checker at the local Piggly Wiggly. She doesn’t have a specific path in mind, but she certainly enjoys spreading her knowledge of human growth and development. She’s in her second year of what will be a four-year process since she works full-time. I’ll admit, I admire her dedication. Working full-time and going to school isn’t easy, whether taking one class or five.

I ring the little handheld bell to call the meeting to order. “We have a new member coming tonight, and I’m waiting for him.” Typically I don’t like to begin a meeting until everyone is present, but I can give everyone the details while we wait.
 

“Him?”

“Yes. Him.” I figured that was the most subtle way to bring it up. “You remember Keith from a few weeks ago?”

“The hottie?” Cheyenne bites her cookie and moans as though she’s sinking her teeth into him.

“What am I?” Keith startles us upon his sudden entrance. I’m sure he overheard Cheyenne gawking over him. Here I am concerned about him listening to
our
sexual encounters, and they’re basically cat calling him. They should be disgusted with themselves.

“I’m glad you made it, Keith. Please, grab some cookies, coffee, or water, and have a seat.”

He heads over to the refreshment table and all eyes follow him. He’s not dressed like a cowboy tonight. Instead, he’s in fitness shorts and a black T-shirt. I wonder if he came from the gym. His arms are sure proof he goes to one. We wait as he pours himself a glass of water and he sits down. Next to me.

“Thanks for letting me join.” He emphasizes the word “letting” as though it’s some big honor I bestowed upon him. Is he being sarcastic, or genuinely nice? I can’t tell anymore.

“How did you convince her to let you in?” Cheyenne scoots her chair a little closer. “Cassie seemed very against the idea.”

“I wasn’t
very
against it.” I wasn’t
that
bad about it, was I? I still don’t think denying membership to a man is so unreasonable. “I had … reservations.”

Keith places his hands between his legs, holding onto his water. “She needs some work done at her office and called me. This was one of my conditions of taking the job.”

“You bribed her? Cassie
can’t
be bribed.” Luna jumps in, giggling in disbelief.

“Oh?” The ice clinks in his glass as he drinks it. “Well it appears she can be, and she was. Was I your first, Cassie?” He smiles at me, raising his brow, a deep line creasing through his cheek.