{"id":27178,"date":"2026-11-05T05:19:33","date_gmt":"2026-11-05T05:19:33","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/lifechaptersusa.online\/?p=27178"},"modified":"2026-11-05T05:19:34","modified_gmt":"2026-11-05T05:19:34","slug":"a-68-woman-joined-a-dating-app-her-first-date-turned-terrifying-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lifechaptersusa.online\/?p=27178","title":{"rendered":"She Thought She\u2019d Found Love Online\u2014Then Her First Date Took a Dark Turn"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Richard checked his watch for the third time. Then he looked past my shoulder toward the restaurant window.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He was clearly nervous.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I just couldn\u2019t tell whether it was because of me or because of something outside.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAre you expecting someone, Richie?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His fingers stopped on his watchband.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019m just enjoying the evening.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou seem a lot more interested in the street than in your dinner.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He gave me a quick smile and reached for his water glass. The ice had melted a long time ago, but he stirred it anyway with the little black straw. Around and around.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Something about the way he kept watching that window bothered me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I told myself it was first-date nerves.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At seventy-four, after twelve years without anything you could call romance, I was nervous too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My name is Marilyn Hughes. I\u2019m seventy-four years old, and I\u2019m six feet eight inches tall.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019ve been six feet eight since I was nineteen. Before that, I was six-four at fifteen, six-six at seventeen, and six-seven at my high school graduation, where I had to duck under the archway of balloons at the end of the stage and everyone laughed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019ve heard every joke there is.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

How\u2019s the weather up there? That\u2019s the most popular one. I\u2019ve heard it probably ten thousand times. I\u2019ve heard it from cashiers and bus drivers and doctors and a priest at a funeral.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Do you play basketball? That\u2019s the second most popular. I don\u2019t. I never have. I\u2019m terrible at it. In ninth grade, the gym teacher made me try out for the girls\u2019 team, and I tripped over my own feet and broke my wrist in the first ten minutes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Can you get that for me? Strangers in the grocery store, pointing at the top shelf. I always get it for them. My mother raised me to be polite.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

People see my height before they see anything else about me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It\u2019s not cruel, usually. People are just surprised. They look up, and up, and their eyes go wide, and then they say something. They always say something. I don\u2019t think I\u2019ve walked into a single room in fifty-five years without somebody saying something.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I was young, it made me want to disappear.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I slouched. My mother used to poke me between the shoulder blades with her finger. Stand up straight, Marilyn. But standing up straight made it worse. So I slouched more. I wore flat shoes, always. Ballet flats, loafers, sneakers. I never once wore heels in high school. I never went to a dance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I was twenty-two, a young man I\u2019d been seeing for three weeks asked me to sit down for a photograph with his friends at a party. Not because everyone else was sitting. Because he didn\u2019t want to look short next to me in the picture.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I was twenty-four, another man asked me to wear flats to his sister\u2019s wedding. I was already wearing flats. He meant flatter flats.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stopped seeing both of them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I didn\u2019t stop feeling like the tallest, most awkward thing in every room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then I met Thomas.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was at the public library downtown. I was twenty-six. He was twenty-eight. He was standing in front of the mystery section trying to reach an Agatha Christie novel on the top shelf, stretching up on his tiptoes, and his fingertips kept missing it by about two inches.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I walked over and took it down for him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He looked at the book. Then he looked up at me. And up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I waited for him to say it. How\u2019s the weather up there?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Instead, he said, \u201cOh, Murder on the Orient Express. Have you read it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTwice,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDon\u2019t tell me who did it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI wouldn\u2019t dream of it,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He grinned. \u201cThat\u2019s the most dangerous thing you could have said. Now I\u2019ll suspect everybody.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Thomas was five feet ten. He was entirely unimpressed by the difference.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He never once asked me to sit down for a photograph. He never once asked me to wear flats. On our third date, he took me to a dance hall, and when the band played a slow song, he put his arms around me and rested his cheek against my shoulder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou know what the best part is?\u201d he said into my collarbone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019ve got the best view of my thinning hair in the whole room.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I laughed so hard I stepped on his foot.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We were married a year later. We had forty-one years together. Two children, a son and a daughter, both tall, though neither as tall as me. Four grandchildren. A little brick house with a garden full of roses that I tended and he admired.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He never stopped resting his cheek against my shoulder when we danced.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Thomas died twelve years ago, of a heart attack, at seventy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He was sitting in his reading chair with an Agatha Christie novel open on his lap. Murder on the Orient Express, the same one from the library, the copy I\u2019d given him for our first anniversary. He\u2019d read it eleven times.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After he died, I assumed that part of my life had ended with him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The dancing. The cheek on my shoulder. The man who looked up at me and saw a person instead of a punchline.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was sixty-two. I\u2019d had my great love. I didn\u2019t expect another one. I didn\u2019t want another one.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I had my garden and my detective novels and my church friends and my grandchildren. That was plenty.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My granddaughter disagreed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her name is Tess. She\u2019s twenty-nine, the oldest of my grandchildren. She\u2019s six feet one, which she complains about constantly, and she works in marketing in a glass building downtown. She came over for Sunday dinner in February, sat down across from me at the kitchen table, and held out her hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGrandma,\u201d she announced, \u201cyou need to meet people.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI meet people,\u201d I said. \u201cAt the grocery store. The butcher gave me a free chicken last month.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGeez, Grandma,\u201d Tess said. \u201cI mean someone who might buy you dinner. Give me your phone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat for?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJust give it to me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I gave it to her. I thought she was going to fix my email again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Twenty minutes later, I had a dating profile.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Marilyn, 74. Loves detective novels, gardening, and men who don\u2019t ask whether she plays basketball.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTess,\u201d I said. \u201cTake that off. Right now.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAbsolutely not.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m seventy-four years old.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo? There are men out there who are seventy-four. Seventy-six. Eighty. Lonely men who like detective novels and gardening.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLonely men who are going to look at me and run screaming.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tess looked at me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then she reached over and typed one more line onto the profile.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Height: 6\u20198\u2033.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTess!\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She insisted on listing it. She wouldn\u2019t budge.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhy frighten them before they meet me?\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBecause anyone frightened by you,\u201d Tess said, \u201cisn\u2019t worth meeting, Grandma.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She pressed save.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Three days later, I matched with Richard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He was seventy-six, a widower, a retired high school chemistry teacher. In his profile picture, he was standing in a garden full of hydrangeas, smiling, holding a pair of pruning shears. He had silver hair and wire-rimmed glasses and a red cardigan.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Height: 5\u20195\u2033.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I almost didn\u2019t answer him. Five-five. I\u2019d be fifteen inches taller. When he stood next to me, the top of his head would come up to my chin.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But his first message wasn\u2019t wow, you\u2019re tall. It wasn\u2019t how\u2019s the weather up there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It said: Do you prefer solving the mystery before the detective does, or being surprised at the end?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I read it four times.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then I typed: Surprised. Provided the author hasn\u2019t cheated.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He answered in three minutes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A woman of principle. I like that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For two weeks, we sent each other messages.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Every evening, around seven, after dinner. He told me about his garden, which was mostly hydrangeas and tomatoes. He told me about his late wife, Joan, who\u2019d died four years ago of cancer. He told me about his daughter, Eleanor, who lived across town and worried about him too much. He told me about the books he was reading. He liked Dorothy Sayers better than Agatha Christie, which we argued about for three days.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He sent me little things.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Did I tell you the neighborhood cat has started sleeping under my hydrangeas? Orange tabby. I\u2019ve named him Inspector Morse.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

No! I wrote back. That\u2019s lovely!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He remembered small things.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I mentioned that my roses were struggling, that something was eating the leaves on my climbing Eden, he asked about them four days later. Did you figure out what was eating the Eden? Was it Japanese beetles? Joan used to pick them off by hand into a jar of soapy water.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I told him about Thomas, he didn\u2019t give me advice about moving on. He didn\u2019t tell me it was time to get back out there. He didn\u2019t say Thomas would want me to be happy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He just wrote: I miss my wife too. Every day. It doesn\u2019t really get smaller, does it? You just get bigger around it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I sat at my kitchen table and cried for the first time in a long time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then he invited me to dinner.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A restaurant downtown called Bellamy\u2019s. Friday at seven. Italian. White tablecloths.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I said yes before I could talk myself out of it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The night before our date, a peculiar message appeared on my phone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Would you mind wearing your tallest heels?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stared at it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I thought it was weird. It was weird.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I typed back right away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Richie, I\u2019m already six foot eight. In heels, I\u2019ll be over seven feet tall. I\u2019ll have to duck going through the door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His answer came almost immediately.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Please, Marilyn. It\u2019s important to me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I almost canceled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I sat on the edge of my bed with my phone in my lap for a long time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Men before Thomas had asked me to sit down for photographs. They\u2019d asked me to wear flats to weddings. They\u2019d asked me to slouch, to sit, to shrink. One had asked me, very seriously, whether I\u2019d ever \u201cconsidered\u201d not standing next to him at his office Christmas party.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Richard was the first man in my entire life who\u2019d ever asked me to be taller.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I didn\u2019t know what to think about that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maybe he liked it, I thought. Some men do. Maybe he liked tall women. Maybe Joan had been tall.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maybe he wanted me to feel beautiful. To stop hiding. To stand up straight, the way my mother always told me to.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maybe, after fifty-five years of men wishing I were shorter, here was finally one who wanted me exactly the size I was. And then some.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I wanted that to be true so badly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I got up and went to my closet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At the very back, behind my winter boots and a box of Thomas\u2019s old sweaters I couldn\u2019t bring myself to give away, I found a pair of navy blue heels. Four inches. Ankle straps. A little silver buckle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019d bought them for Tess\u2019s wedding two years ago. Tess had begged me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPlease, Grandma,\u201d she\u2019d said. \u201cJust for one day. I want you to stand up tall next to me in the pictures. I want everybody to see how gorgeous you are.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019d worn them for exactly four hours. My feet had hurt for three days afterward. But in every single wedding picture, I\u2019m standing up straight. And smiling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I took them out of the box and held them up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They\u2019d go perfectly with the navy dress I\u2019d planned to wear.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I took a picture of the shoes on my bed and sent it to Richard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

All right, Richie. But don\u2019t complain if I block the restaurant lighting.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He replied with three smiling emojis.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then: Perfect. Thank you, Marilyn. You won\u2019t regret it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The next evening, Tess came over to help me get ready.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She stood in my bedroom doorway with her arms crossed while I sat on the edge of my bed and fastened the ankle straps on the navy heels. My fingers were shaking a little. The little silver buckles were hard to work.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou look gorgeous, Grandma,\u201d Tess said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI look qualified to dust ceiling fans,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She laughed. She pulled out her phone and took a photograph anyway.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cStand up,\u201d she said. \u201cLet me get a real one.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stood up. In the heels, I was seven feet tall. My head was about four inches from the ceiling light in my bedroom.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tess took the picture. Then she showed it to me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was smiling. More broadly than I\u2019d realized. My shoulders were back. I wasn\u2019t slouching at all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I looked happy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The navy dress had been Thomas\u2019s favorite.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was simple, knee-length, with three-quarter sleeves and a little white collar. I\u2019d bought it for our fortieth anniversary dinner. He\u2019d said I looked like a movie star. A very tall movie star.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I hadn\u2019t worn it since his funeral.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Choosing it that night didn\u2019t feel like replacing him. I want to be clear about that. It didn\u2019t feel like I was putting him away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It felt like I was carrying the life we\u2019d shared into a room I\u2019d been afraid to walk into by myself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tess drove me downtown.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Richard was waiting beneath the restaurant\u2019s brass awning.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He was smaller than his profile pictures had suggested. Even smaller than five-five, somehow. He had his silver hair carefully combed and a gray sport coat with a red pocket square that was sitting slightly crooked in the pocket. He\u2019d clearly fussed with it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I stepped out of Tess\u2019s car and stood up to my full seven feet, he looked up at me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And then he smiled so broadly that I laughed out loud, right there on the sidewalk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPerfect,\u201d he murmured.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell, you certainly got your wish, Richie,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He took my hand and kissed the back of it. His lips were dry and warm. It was old-fashioned and a little silly and I loved it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then his gaze slipped past me, toward the street. Toward the traffic going by.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Just for a second.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I didn\u2019t think anything of it then.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Inside, Bellamy\u2019s was warm and dim and smelled like garlic and candles. There were white tablecloths and dark wood booths and a fireplace crackling at the back of the room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

People looked up when I walked in. Of course they did. In those heels, I had to duck slightly under the light fixture by the hostess stand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The hostess, a young woman with a bright smile, offered us a quiet corner table near the fireplace.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s our coziest spot,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Richard pointed toward the front of the restaurant instead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCould we have the one by the window?\u201d he said. \u201cThat one, right there.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The hostess hesitated.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat table\u2019s pretty exposed to the sidewalk, sir,\u201d she said. \u201cIt gets a little drafty when the door opens. And people walking by can see right in.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s all right,\u201d Richard said. \u201cThe view\u2019s better.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I thought he meant the city lights. The street was beautiful at night, with the old brick buildings and the lamplights and the trees wrapped in tiny white bulbs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So now my navy heels rested under a little table right beside the restaurant\u2019s big front window.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Exactly where Richard had insisted we sit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A few minutes after we sat down, a black sedan slowed outside on the street.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It crept past the window. Slowly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Richard stopped stirring his water.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His whole body went still. His eyes followed the car.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The sedan kept going down the street and turned the corner.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His shoulders dropped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat was that?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNothing,\u201d he said quickly. \u201cSorry. I\u2019m just a little nervous. First date in forty-six years.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That answer might have satisfied me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

If he hadn\u2019t checked his watch again right afterward.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Our appetizers arrived. Fried calamari for him, a little Caprese salad for me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Richard asked about my garden. He asked about my climbing Eden and the Japanese beetles. He asked about the roses Thomas had planted by the front porch forty years ago.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But his eyes kept going back to that window.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Every car that went by. Every set of headlights. Every person walking past on the sidewalk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I tried to find the easy, funny man from our messages. The man who\u2019d named a cat Inspector Morse. The one who\u2019d written, You just get bigger around it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I told him about the beetles. I told him about the jar of soapy water.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He nodded and said, \u201cMm-hmm.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He hadn\u2019t heard a word.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then he put down his fork.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMarilyn,\u201d he said. \u201cWould you mind standing up?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stared at him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cStanding up?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJust for a moment,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019d love to see how tall you look. In those heels.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I glanced around at the tables near us. A couple in their fifties sharing a bottle of wine. A family with a little boy. Two businessmen in suits.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cRight here?\u201d I said. \u201cIn the middle of the restaurant?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPlease.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There was no admiration in his voice now. None.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The word came out too fast. Too urgent. Like we were running late for a train.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But refusing felt like turning a strange request into a scene.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019d spent fifty-five years trying not to make scenes. Trying not to draw attention. Trying to fold myself up small.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And here was a man asking me to stand up tall. Wasn\u2019t that what I\u2019d wanted my whole life? For someone to want me to stand up?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I pushed back my chair.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAll right,\u201d I said. \u201cBut if someone asks me to change a light bulb, you\u2019re explaining.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In those heels, I stood up to almost exactly seven feet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

People noticed immediately.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The couple with the wine stopped talking. The businessmen looked up from their steaks. A little boy at the table near the entrance, maybe six years old, stopped chewing his garlic bread completely and stared up at me with his mouth hanging open. His mother gently turned his head back toward his plate.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stood there beside the window, feeling ridiculous. Feeling seven feet tall and every inch of it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I looked down at Richard, waiting for him to say something. You look wonderful. There. Perfect.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Richard didn\u2019t look at me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He was staring through the window.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A black SUV had stopped across the street.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was big and dark, with tinted windows. It was double-parked with its hazard lights blinking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Two men stepped out onto the sidewalk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One was wearing a dark jacket. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with short dark hair.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The other one stood by the open driver\u2019s door, looking right at the restaurant entrance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Looking at the window.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Looking at me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Richard\u2019s hand closed around my wrist.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSit down,\u201d he said. \u201cNow.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His grip hurt. He was squeezing my wrist so hard I could feel the bones.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cRichie,\u201d I said. \u201cLet go of me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He loosened his fingers a little. But he didn\u2019t let go.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

With his other hand, he pulled his wallet out of his jacket and dropped several twenty-dollar bills on the table beside his untouched calamari.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe need to leave,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWho are those men?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ll explain outside.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cRichard, who are they?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOutside, Marilyn.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He stood up. He pulled me, by the wrist, away from the window. Not toward the front door. The other way. Toward a swinging door next to the kitchen at the back of the restaurant.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My heels hit the tile floor sharply. Click. Click. Click. Every step reminded me how impossible it would be to run in them. How easily I\u2019d fall. A seventy-four-year-old woman, seven feet tall, in four-inch heels, being pulled across a restaurant by a man fifteen inches shorter than me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I couldn\u2019t tell whether Richard was afraid of those men.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Or whether he was taking me out the back of the building to hand me over to somebody waiting there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The restaurant manager stepped into our path.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He was a tall man in his forties with a gray vest and a black tie. He moved fast. He\u2019d been watching.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSir,\u201d he said. \u201cGuests aren\u2019t allowed through the kitchen.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe need another exit,\u201d Richard said. \u201cPlease. Just let us through.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The manager looked down at Richard\u2019s hand around my wrist.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then he looked up and met my eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMa\u2019am,\u201d he said quietly. \u201cDo you want to go with him?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I pulled my wrist free.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It took a hard yank. Richard let go.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I said. \u201cI don\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The manager stepped between us. Smoothly. Without making a fuss. Just enough that he was standing in front of me with his back to Richard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The bell over the front door jingled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I looked past the manager\u2019s shoulder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One of the men from the SUV had come into the restaurant. The one in the dark jacket.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He stood in the doorway for a second, looking around. Then he spotted Richard by the kitchen door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He walked straight toward us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cRichard,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Richard pressed two fingers against his forehead and closed his eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The stranger stopped several feet away from us. He was in his forties, maybe. He had a tired face and a five o\u2019clock shadow. He looked angry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But not at me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His anger seemed to be aimed entirely at my date.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhere are you going?\u201d he said to Richard. \u201cWhere exactly were you going just now? Through the kitchen?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stayed right beside the manager.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWho are you?\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The man looked up at me. He actually looked surprised. Like he hadn\u2019t expected me to speak to him at all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m Eleanor\u2019s husband,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stared at him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWho,\u201d I said, \u201cis Eleanor?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Richard was studying the floor tiles.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHis daughter,\u201d the man answered. \u201cThe daughter he asked to drive past this restaurant tonight. At seven-thirty.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I turned slowly and looked down at Richard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou arranged this?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He didn\u2019t look up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The man introduced himself. His name was Daniel. He was Eleanor\u2019s husband. The other man, the one by the SUV, was their neighbor, Marcus, who\u2019d driven them in his big van because it had a wheelchair lift.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Neither of them had come for me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Neither of them had come to hurt anybody.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cEleanor thought you wanted her to see something,\u201d Daniel said to Richard. He was trying to keep his voice down, because the whole restaurant was staring. \u201cYou called her this morning. You said, \u2018Drive past Bellamy\u2019s at seven-thirty, sweetheart, I want you to see something.\u2019 So we drove past. And she saw you through the window, and she said, \u2018Oh, he\u2019s on a date,\u2019 and she wanted to come in and say hello. She was happy, Richard.\u201d He shook his head. \u201cAnd then you saw us get out of the van and you grabbed this woman and ran for the kitchen. Why did you run?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Richard didn\u2019t say anything for a long moment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI panicked,\u201d he said finally.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBecause of me?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Richard rubbed the side of his thumb against his palm. Over and over. A little nervous habit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI wanted Eleanor to see us together,\u201d he said. He still wasn\u2019t looking at me. \u201cThrough the window. Just to see. She\u2019s worried about me so much since her mother died. Calling every day. Checking on me. Asking if I\u2019m eating, if I\u2019m sleeping, if I\u2019m lonely.\u201d His voice cracked. \u201cI thought, if she just saw me out to dinner, enjoying myself, with someone, she\u2019d stop treating me like I was falling apart.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd then she got out of the van,\u201d Daniel said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t think she\u2019d come in,\u201d Richard said. \u201cI thought she\u2019d just drive by and see and call me tomorrow. I didn\u2019t think\u2026\u201d He shook his head. \u201cWhen I saw her getting out, I thought, Marilyn doesn\u2019t know. I never told her. And Eleanor\u2019s going to come in and say something and Marilyn\u2019s going to find out I\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He stopped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The window table. The watch. The heels.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They all settled into one ugly picture in my head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou asked me to stand up,\u201d I said slowly, \u201cso your daughter couldn\u2019t miss me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Richard looked toward the dining room instead of at me. Toward the window. Toward the empty table with his untouched calamari and his twenty-dollar bills.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou asked me to wear my tallest heels,\u201d I said, \u201cso she\u2019d see me from the street. From a moving car. At night.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He didn\u2019t answer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou weren\u2019t admiring my height, Richard,\u201d I said. \u201cYou were using it as a sign in the window.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMarilyn,\u201d he said. \u201cI do admire you. I really do.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDid you ever plan to tell me?\u201d I said. \u201cThat she was coming? That she\u2019d be driving past to look at me?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His lips opened.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But no answer came out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That request for heels had made me feel chosen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For one night, after fifty-five years of men asking me to sit down and shrink and wear flatter flats, a man had asked me to stand up tall. I\u2019d dug those shoes out from behind Thomas\u2019s sweaters. I\u2019d fastened those little silver buckles with shaking fingers. I\u2019d looked at Tess\u2019s photograph of me, smiling with my shoulders back, and thought, Maybe. Maybe someone finally wants me exactly this size.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Now I understood.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Richard had chosen me partly because no passing car could possibly miss me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The bell over the front door jingled again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A woman came in, in a wheelchair.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She was in her late forties, with dark curly hair pulled back in a clip and a cream-colored sweater. She moved fast, with quick, practiced turns of the wheels, weaving between the tables. The hostess jumped out of her way.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Daniel stepped aside to let her through.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She rolled to a stop right in front of us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her eyes went first to her father, standing there red-faced by the kitchen door. Then up to me, all seven feet of me in my navy heels.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And then to my wrist. The one I was rubbing with my other hand. There were red marks on it where Richard\u2019s fingers had been.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat happened?\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cEleanor,\u201d Richard began. \u201cSweetheart. I can explain.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She ignored him completely. She looked up at me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMa\u2019am,\u201d she said. \u201cAre you all right?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m Marilyn,\u201d I said. \u201cYour father grabbed my arm when he saw your van.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Eleanor\u2019s hand settled on one of her wheels. She gripped it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDid he tell you I was coming?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She closed her eyes. She rubbed her forehead with one hand, slowly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She didn\u2019t look shocked. That was what I noticed. She looked tired. Like she\u2019d heard some version of this before. Many times.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDad,\u201d she said, without opening her eyes. \u201cI agreed to drive past because you said there was something you wanted me to see. You said it was important. I didn\u2019t agree to watch you drag a woman across a restaurant.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI wanted you to know I was fine, sweetheart,\u201d Richard said. \u201cThat\u2019s all. That I was okay. That I wasn\u2019t sitting home alone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Eleanor opened her eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThen you could have told me, Dad,\u201d she said. \u201cYou could have called me and said, \u2018I\u2019m going on a date Friday.\u2019 That\u2019s all you had to say. And you could have told her too.\u201d She nodded at me. \u201cBefore you dressed her up like a billboard.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Richard looked smaller than he had at the entrance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And not because I was wearing heels.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The manager offered to call me a car.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes,\u201d I said. \u201cPlease.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He went to the hostess stand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

While we waited, I turned and faced Richard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cRichie,\u201d I said. \u201cI came tonight because I liked you. I liked your messages. I liked Inspector Morse. I liked that you remembered my beetles.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI like you too,\u201d he whispered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThen you should have trusted me with the truth,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He took one step toward me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My shoe moved back on the tile. Click.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He stopped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The car came in eight minutes. A black town car. The manager walked me out himself and held the door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m very sorry about your evening, ma\u2019am,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not your fault,\u201d I said. \u201cThank you. For asking me. In the kitchen.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He nodded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019d be surprised,\u201d he said quietly, \u201chow often nobody asks.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Eleanor rolled out to the sidewalk while I was getting into the car.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMarilyn,\u201d she said. \u201cI\u2019m sorry. Really. For all of it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou didn\u2019t do anything,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo,\u201d she said. \u201cBut he\u2019s my dad.\u201d She looked back toward the restaurant window, where Richard was standing at the empty table, staring down at his twenty-dollar bills. \u201cI\u2019m going to have a long talk with him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGood,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She almost smiled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou really are very tall,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo I\u2019ve been told,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tess was waiting when I got home. She\u2019d said she\u2019d stay up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She was sitting on my sofa in her sweatpants with a bowl of popcorn, watching a cooking show. She jumped up when I came in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHow was it? Grandma? How was it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I didn\u2019t answer. I sat down on the sofa.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I reached down for the buckle on my left shoe. My fingers kept missing it. They were shaking too badly. I tried three times.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tess knelt down on the carpet in front of me without asking. She unbuckled both shoes and slid them off my feet. Gently. One at a time. The way I used to take off her shoes when she fell asleep in the car as a little girl.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then she sat down on the sofa next to me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGrandma,\u201d she said quietly. \u201cWhat happened?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I told her everything.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I finished, Tess was quiet for a long time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then she said, \u201cAre you deleting the app?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I looked down at my phone on the coffee table. Its screen was dark.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I thought about it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tess looked surprised.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I said. \u201cOne foolish man doesn\u2019t get to decide whether I ever have dinner with another one. I gave fifty-five years of my life to men like that. Men who decided what I should look like. How tall I should be. Where I should sit.\u201d I picked up my phone and put it in my lap. \u201cHe doesn\u2019t get any more.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tess put her arms around me and hugged me hard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s my grandma,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That night, in bed, I looked at my wrist.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There were three faint red marks on it from Richard\u2019s fingers. By morning, they\u2019d turned into small bruises.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They were gone in four days.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The feeling took longer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Three days after that dinner, Richard\u2019s apology arrived in the mail.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was handwritten, on plain white stationery, in careful blue ink. Two pages.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He admitted that he\u2019d treated me like a prop. That he\u2019d asked me to wear the heels not because he admired my height, though he did, he wrote, very much, but because he wanted Eleanor to see me from the street. He admitted he\u2019d chosen the window table on purpose. He admitted he\u2019d been checking his watch because he knew exactly when Eleanor\u2019s van would drive past.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And he admitted that when he saw Eleanor getting out of the van, he\u2019d panicked and grabbed my wrist and frightened me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was so afraid of looking foolish in front of my daughter, he wrote, that I made you look foolish in front of a whole restaurant. And I hurt you. I\u2019ll never forgive myself for that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He didn\u2019t ask me to forgive him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He didn\u2019t ask for another date.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He just signed it, Richard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A week later, Eleanor called me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She\u2019d asked Richard for my number first. And Richard had texted me to ask if it was all right. Eleanor would like to speak with you. Only if you\u2019re willing. I\u2019ll understand if you\u2019re not.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I said yes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She called on a Tuesday afternoon. I was out in the garden, picking Japanese beetles off my climbing Eden into a jar of soapy water.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI hope I\u2019m not interrupting,\u201d Eleanor said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOnly beetles,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She laughed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We talked for almost an hour.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She told me about her father. About how, after she started using a wheelchair eight years ago, after a spinal injury in a car accident, he\u2019d started confusing protecting her with controlling her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe\u2019d cancel plans before asking me what I wanted,\u201d she said. \u201cHe\u2019d call restaurants to ask about wheelchair access without telling me. He\u2019d show up at my house unannounced to install grab bars I didn\u2019t need.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat sounds exhausting,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLast Christmas,\u201d Eleanor said, \u201che moved our whole family Christmas dinner from my house to his, because snow was in the forecast. He called everybody. My brother, my aunt, Daniel\u2019s parents. He never once asked me whether my street had been plowed. He just announced that he\u2019d \u2018solved the problem.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd had it been plowed?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBefore his own street,\u201d Eleanor said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She laughed. It was a laugh full of frustration and a lot of affection.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Richard wasn\u2019t a scheming stranger who\u2019d invented every kind message to trap me. I understood that, standing in my garden with the phone against my ear and a jar of drowning beetles in my other hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Inspector Morse was real. The hydrangeas were real. You just get bigger around it was real. He\u2019d meant those things.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He was a lonely old man who cared about people. Who loved his daughter so much. And who pushed everybody\u2019s choices aside whenever fear took over.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Understanding that didn\u2019t excuse what he\u2019d done to me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But it explained why Eleanor had looked tired at that restaurant instead of shocked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMom could always make him listen,\u201d Eleanor said. \u201cShe\u2019d put her hand on his arm and say, \u2018Richard. Ask her first.\u2019 And he would. Since she died, there\u2019s nobody to put a hand on his arm. So he just keeps deciding what everybody needs.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe decided I needed to feel admired,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd he decided I needed proof that he was happy,\u201d Eleanor said. \u201cInstead of just telling me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We were both quiet for a moment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry he did that to you,\u201d Eleanor said. \u201cTruly. I\u2019ve been on the receiving end of his deciding for eight years. I know how it feels.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThank you,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Before she hung up, Eleanor told me something.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDad called me yesterday,\u201d she said. \u201cHe asked where I wanted to meet for lunch next week. He asked. What restaurant. What day. What time. Whether I wanted him to pick me up or whether I wanted to drive myself.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIs that unusual?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cVery,\u201d Eleanor said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Two weeks after that, I agreed to have coffee with Richard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I chose the caf\u00e9. A little place near my house called The Bookend, with mismatched armchairs and shelves of used paperbacks and a cat that sleeps in the front window. I chose the day and the time. Tuesday at two in the afternoon, broad daylight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I wore flats.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My comfortable gray loafers, the ones I wear to the grocery store.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Richard was already there when I walked in. He stood up when he saw me. He looked at my shoes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And he very wisely said nothing about them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On the table in front of him lay a small white paper bag.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He didn\u2019t hand it to me. He waited until I\u2019d sat down and taken off my coat. Then he slid it across the table toward me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTea biscuits,\u201d he said. \u201cThe shortbread ones. With the tartan on the box. You mentioned once that Thomas used to buy them for your road trips. That you\u2019d eat them in the car on the way to the lake every summer.\u201d He cleared his throat. \u201cIf bringing them was presumptuous, I\u2019ll take them home. I won\u2019t be offended.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I looked at the bag.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That was different from deciding I needed them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He\u2019d remembered something. He\u2019d offered it. And he\u2019d left the answer with me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I opened the bag. I took out two tea biscuits. I put one on the saucer next to his cup and one next to mine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After we\u2019d ordered, I held my coffee cup in both hands.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDo you know why I wore those heels, Richard?\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He shook his head slowly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBecause you asked me to,\u201d I said. \u201cMost men I\u2019ve known spent years wishing I were shorter. Asking me to sit down. Wear flats. Stand in the back of photographs. You were the first man in fifty-five years, other than Thomas, who seemed to want me to take up all the space I take up.\u201d I looked at him. \u201cI thought you wanted me to be proud of it. Of being tall. Of standing up straight.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Richard turned his coffee cup slowly on its saucer until the handle faced away from him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cInstead,\u201d I said, \u201cI found out you wanted your daughter to notice you standing next to me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry, Marilyn,\u201d he said quietly. \u201cI\u2019m so sorry. You\u2019re right. Every word.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI believe you,\u201d I said. \u201cI do. But believing an apology isn\u2019t the same as trusting you again.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI understand.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He looked down at his tea biscuit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJoan would have had my head,\u201d he said. \u201cOn a platter.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ve heard she used to put her hand on your arm,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He looked up at me, surprised.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cEleanor told me,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He smiled sadly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cShe did,\u201d he said. \u201cEvery time I started deciding things for other people. She\u2019d put her hand right here.\u201d He touched his own forearm. \u201cAnd say, \u2018Richard. Ask first.\u2019\u201d He shook his head. \u201cI didn\u2019t realize how much I needed it until she was gone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He told me that Eleanor had chosen the restaurant for their lunch the week before. A Thai place near her house. He hadn\u2019t argued. He\u2019d let her pick the time, too. And he\u2019d let her drive herself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s a start, Richie,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He smiled. A real smile this time. The first one I\u2019d seen since the brass awning.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s hard,\u201d he admitted. \u201cAsking. Every time, I want to just fix it. Solve it. Decide it. It feels like doing nothing.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not doing nothing,\u201d I said. \u201cIt\u2019s respecting people.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We talked for another hour. About Dorothy Sayers and Agatha Christie. About Inspector Morse, who had apparently caught a mouse and left it on Richard\u2019s porch as a gift. About my Japanese beetles, which I\u2019d finally defeated with Joan\u2019s jar of soapy water.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When the coffee was gone, Richard looked at me across the table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMarilyn,\u201d he said. \u201cMight I see you again?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I thought about it for a long moment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPerhaps,\u201d I said. \u201cSlowly. And without surprises.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAgreed,\u201d Richard said. \u201cNo surprises. None. And I\u2019ll ask. About everything.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAbout everything,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I got home that afternoon, I went to my bedroom closet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The navy heels were sitting on the floor by the bed, where Tess had put them that night after she took them off my feet. I hadn\u2019t touched them in three weeks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I picked them up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I almost put them back at the back of the closet, behind Thomas\u2019s sweaters, in the box where they\u2019d lived for two years.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Instead, I set them on the shelf at the front of the closet. Right next to my gray loafers. Side by side.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That evening, Tess called to ask how coffee had gone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPleasant,\u201d I told her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJust pleasant?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPleasant is a lot, Tess,\u201d I said. \u201cAt my age, pleasant is a great deal.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWill there be another date?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I looked over at the closet. At the navy heels sitting next to my loafers on the shelf.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Richard hadn\u2019t ruined them. I realized that, standing there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They weren\u2019t his shoes. They weren\u2019t Richard\u2019s request, or Eleanor\u2019s sign in a window, or a dinner that went wrong.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They were mine. I\u2019d bought them for my granddaughter\u2019s wedding. I\u2019d worn them for four hours in every wedding photograph, standing up straight and smiling. I\u2019d chosen them. And they still belonged to the woman who\u2019d chosen to wear them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPossibly,\u201d I told Tess. \u201cBut next time, darling, I choose the height.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tess laughed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDeal,\u201d she said. \u201cBut I\u2019m still taking the picture.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I laughed too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Standing there in my bedroom in my stocking feet, at my own height, I was already picturing the next photograph, in whatever shoes I picked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Richard checked his watch for the third time. Then he looked past my shoulder toward the restaurant window. He was clearly nervous. I just couldn\u2019t tell whether it was because … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":27166,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4,5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-27178","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-family-story","category-lastest-story"],"aioseo_notices":[],"aioseo_head":"\n\t\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t