Mrs. Rogers is in her sixties, whose husband left her for a younger woman several years ago. She’s into all that new-age stuff and always wears a million gemstones and bangles around her wrists, and has told me more than once my chakras need to be cleared, whatever that means.
I feel an unspoken kinship to her, knowing what it’s like to have the rug pulled out from under you. I suck down half my coffee and then hurry to put on the proper gear to go into the garage, firing up my snowblower.
I make a beeline for her house, plowing a path down my own driveway and through the piles of snow along the curb from the plow going by. Mrs. Rogers stops shoveling and waves to me, shouting something I can’t hear over the sound of the snowblower.
I kill the engine on the plow so we can talk.
“I got this,” I tell her. “Go in and get warm.”
“Oh, honey, you are a lifesaver. This damp air is making my arthritis flare up. You sure you don’t mind?”
“I wouldn’t be here if I did.” I motion toward her house. “Watch for ice on your way in. It’s slippery out here.”
“You’re telling me.” She smiles once more and goes back inside. I clear all the snow from her driveway and then go back across the street to do my own driveway. I’m sweating by the time I go in, and right as I’m about to go up and shower, the doorbell rings.
It’s Mrs. Rogers, and she’s holding a plate of cinnamon rolls.
“This is the least I could do,” she tells me.
“They smell delicious. Thank you.”
“Oh, thank you, honey. It would have taken me all day to shovel that driveway.”
“Like I told you last winter, don’t worry about it. I’ll get it for you.”
“You’re a good guy, Dean,” she says. “You’re going to make a lady very lucky one day.”
“Nah,” I say as I wave my hand in the air, dismissing her comment.
“Why not? You don’t like the ladies anymore? I haven’t seen cars in your driveway lately.”
That’s because I haven’t brought anyone home since Rory. And I’m not sure what to think about her taking notice of my escapades. “I still like them. But the whole settling down thing didn’t work for me the first time around.”
“So you’re just going to give up and quit?” She lets out a laugh. “If I gave up after my first marriage failed, I never would have met my Henry, God rest his soul.” She brings her hand to her heart and looks up. “I knew I’d never find a love like that again, but I gave it another shot and ended up with James.” She narrows her eyes, and now I’m certain she’s talking about her current ex-husband. “But he led me to Wyatt.” She raises her eyebrows. “I’m sixty-seven and still haven’t given up on love. You’re way too young and too good-looking to call it quits.”
“I’ll…I’ll think about it.”
“We’ve all been damaged.” She takes a step back toward the door. “Don’t let it scare you into settling.”
I see her out, making sure she doesn’t slip on the porch steps. I’ve been given enough advice post-divorce to fill a fucking book, and usually I brush it off. I know people mean well, but it annoys me regardless. Though for some reason, Mrs. Rogers’s words are hitting me hard.
It’s nothing I haven’t heard before. But before, I didn’t know Rory.My phone buzzes with a text, and then another, and another. I don’t have to look to know the texts are coming from one of the two group messages I’ve been a part of for years. The most active group text is with my brothers, Archer included.
I pick up the phone and see the messages are coming from group number two, which also includes my brothers, but also Quinn and Mom.
Quinn: Do you guys want to come here for dinner tomorrow? Like 6ish? I’m ordering pizza.
Logan: We’ll be there. Neither Owen or I are working this Friday.
Weston: Us too, but I’m in the station until 6.
Quinn: We’ll wait until you’re here to eat.
Owen: I guess I have to come since I can’t pretend to be working now.
Mom: Owen, be nice. And yes, Quinn, we’ll be there. We’re picking up Nana.
Logan: Warn Archer not to come in the house with his lab coat on again.
Owen: I think he does it on purpose. He likes getting hit on by Nana
Quinn: He told me he finds it flattering LOL but don’t tell him I told you!
Owen sends a photo of a shirtless man listening to an old woman’s heart with a stethoscope.
Me: It’s disturbing how fast you were able to find that exact image.
Logan: He has them saved on his phone “for every occasion”
Owen: Always gotta be prepared!
Mom: This is not what I imagined being a mom of grown boys would be like