Richard arrives early in the morning. I mean inappropriately early. It is 7:00a.m. when Colby wakes me. He has been up all night playing video games again.
"Uh, mom? Some guy wants to buy Dad's death bouquet."
"Watch your language." I warn. "That was beyond derogatory."
I follow him to the door where I met Richard, a man in what seemed to be his forties or early fifties. It was hard to tell with his youthful eyes yet semi-aging skin.
"What do you do for a living?" I ask as I haul the dozen flowers on their trolly to the door.
"Is that a necessary question?" He responds. I raise my eyebrows before I go first.
"I'm a painter."
"Biology professor."
He takes the trolly and wheels it through the door. His emotional eyes remind me of my first boyfriend's. I blink away any thoughts of men who aren't Robert.
"Are you free tonight?"
"Excuse me?" I sputter. Objectified, I feel. As though I've been torn open. My blood begins to boil. Typically, I feel emotionless until triggered. This time around I am livid.
"Forgive me–"
"My husband just died. Yesterday. Car accident. Couldn't recognize him in that damned hospice. Do you think for a second these flowers were for anything else?" At this point, I am yelling. Colby appears from the basement staircase and asks if everything is okay.
"Everything is fine," I snap. He retreats back downstairs.
Richard is staring at me with a horrified look on his face. "I am so sorry." He says, then disappears down the driveway with the trolley.
I close the door and weep as quietly as I can. Anything to not let the children hear. I am so fucking alone without Robert. No one on earth will ever understand the amount of pain I feel when we're apart. Now, the pain is permanent.