“Is Fern here?” Jerry placed a napkin in his lap.
“She’s doing some work upstairs, not sure if she’s going to join us or not.” Sharon gave Jerry a peck on the cheek. “Can I get you some wine?”
“You don’t have to ask me twice,” he said with a chuckle.
We all sat, Sharon said a prayer, and I embarked on the best spaghetti and meatball dinner I’d ever experienced. “Sharon, this is amazing.”
She smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Gabriel.”
I took a long drink of wine, wishing Fern was in the empty chair beside me.
Jerry pointed his fork in the air. “Now, Gabe, you should be aware that there’s an arctic snap heading or way.” He shook his head. “It’ll be cold as a witch’s tit in a brass bra.”
I coughed on my wine as Jerry chuckled and handed me a napkin.
“Gabriel, you know Jerry is a retired National Weather Service Meteorologist. Yes, the only job where you can be wrong and not get fired.”
Jerry threw his arm in the air. “We don’t make the damn weather, Sharon. We just do our best to keep up with Mother Nature who can be a brutal bitch with multiple personalities.”
Sharon threw her head back and enthusiastically clapped her hands. “Jerry, tell him the seasons of Minnesota.”
“He’s a Minnesota boy, he knows. There’s winter, fool’s spring, second winter, spring of deception, third winter, actual spring, summer, hell’s front porch, false fall and actual fall.”
Sharon burst into laughter and slapped his arm. “Hell’s front porch! That’s when it’s one-hundred-thirteen degrees in the shade. Get it? That’s some funny shit right there.” She snatched the napkin from her lap and fanned her face. “Great, now I’m having a hot flash. Damn you, Jerry.”
I stood just outside the doorway, watching Gabe laughing with my parents over the heavenly aroma of Italian cuisine. It felt like a lifetime in Hell since I’d seen him, heard his deep voice, and felt his energy that gave the room an entirely different vibe. I wanted to hug the air.
I’d spent nearly two hours upstairs, trying to figure out if I should jump from my window into the snow bank below, make a run for it, or risk seeing his beautiful face while my heart was still in pieces. I’d been in a funk since I’d overheard the conversation.
The day after I arrived back home, I pull up Amy’s obituary. There was a bit of relief as we looked nothing alike. And while we had different interests, apparently we had identical tattoos, a love of butterflies, and the car accident, with only me walking away.
Initially, the similarities screamed he was trying to replace his dead wife, his high school sweetheart, and first love. I didn’t want to compete with anyone, especially a woman who was dead. How could I ever live up to someone who would always be young, beautiful, and perfect in his eyes?
I didn’t know why he was there, but his presence made me feel balanced. I liked it even though I shouldn’t.
My mom looked up. “Hello, my little punky. Can I get you a plate?”
“Mom, stop.”
Gabe stood up so fast he had to catch his chair which nearly tumbled to the floor. Shyness swept through my body as I made my way to the table. Gabe pulled out my chair and wore a warm smile.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
My mom is the best at working with awkward silence as she can babble on enough to fill any space so I was counting on her.
“Fern, was Madam Fluffypants up there with you? I haven’t been able to find her for hours.”
I nodded. “Maybe she just needed some alone time, crazy cat lady.”
“I prefer the term dedicated feline enthusiast, Fern.” She walked to the stove and filled a plate. “Can you believe Gabriel helped me prepare the entire dinner? He’s quite the chef.”
“It smells delicious.” My heart was pitter-pattering so fast it hurt. Calm the hell down!
She placed the plate in front of me, and I realized slurping down spaghetti wasn’t a thing I pulled off well. I carefully took my utensils and cut the long noodles into inch-sized bites. I couldn’t screw that up, could I?
My dad squeezed my hand. “Nice to see you. It’s like you’ve been trapped in your bedroom for weeks.”
