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“If I had to do it, then so do you. Good luck.” I smiled.
He smiled back as he got up from his seat and went up to the podium.
“My name is Ben Preston, and my wife and I had been married for five years before cancer took her away from me almost a year ago.”
Again, I heard gasps and saw people shaking their heads. Everyone welcomed him to the group, and he went back to his seat. As soon as he sat down, we both looked at each other.
“I’m sorry about your husband,” he said nervously.
“I’m sorry about your wife,” I replied.
I couldn’t help but sneak little glances at Ben. He was about two inches over six feet with a muscular build. He had to work out; there was no doubt about it, looking at his well-defined arms. He wore his brown hair short on the sides with just a little bit of a spikey wave on top. His eyes caught my attention the minute he looked at me. They were the color of the Pacific Ocean, and they were beautiful. But the one thing that made him stand out was the fact that he also lost someone at such a young age.
As I sat in my chair and listened to the men and women talk one at a time about their losses, their grief, and their inability to cope at times, I couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit of comfort for the first time since he died. Jessica continued to talk and then ended the meeting by asking us to partner up with the person sitting next to us and talk.
“I want everyone to look at the person sitting next to you, who will be your support partner for the week. Have coffee. Talk. Share. I promise you’ll feel better.”
I looked over, and Ben was staring at me. “I guess that means we’re partners,” he said.
Suddenly, I became very nervous. My heartbeat picked up at a rapid pace, and I started to sweat. What did he mean by “we’re partners”? I wasn’t about to be partners with anyone, especially him.
“Sorry, but I didn’t?—”
“Come here to be partnered up with anyone. Me either. Judging by where you’re sitting, you came here out of curiosity. You wanted to sit in the back with the hopes that no one would notice you. You wanted to see for yourself if other people who have experienced what you have felt the same emotions that you do and are distraught like you are. You wanted to maybe, just maybe for a moment, feel like you’re not alone.”
I stared into his eyes as he sat there and spoke. It was as if he had read my mind. I gave him a small smile. A smile that didn’t indicate anything in particular. Just a smile to acknowledge that I was listening.
“Me too,” he said as he got up from his seat. “It was nice to meet you, Paisley. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” He walked out of the room.
Chapter Eight
Ben
Wow. I didn’t expect that. I didn’t expect to have to stand in front of a group of people and discuss my personal life, and I didn’t expect to meet someone around my age who had suffered the same loss. I didn’t know how I felt. Would I go back? Probably not. As I climbed into my truck, I saw Paisley walk across the dark parking lot. The streetlights that worked were dim, but half of them weren’t lit up. Before I pulled out, I waited to make sure she got into her car safely.
When I pulled up the driveway to my home, my phone rang. It was Finn.
“Hey, Finn. What’s up?”
“I’m on my way over.”
“What? I thought you and Olivia were at a wine-tasting event.”
“We were. I mean, I was. She’s still there. I told her you called and were really down and needed to talk. So if she ever brings it up, you were.”
“Bro, I hate when you use me as an excuse.”
“I know, Ben, and I’m sorry. I really need to talk to you.”
“Fine. I just got home.”
“I know. I’m walking in now.”
I turned around, and Finn walked through the door. Shaking my head, I asked him how long he’d been here.
“Just a few minutes, actually,” he replied. “Where were you?”
I pulled two beers from the fridge and handed him a bottle. “I just went and grabbed something to eat.” I wasn’t about to tell him that I sat for the last hour in a support group for widowers.