The first thought that crossed my mind was maybe, as an old thing myself, she could love me too. I’m tempted to ask about her age, but I don’t want to come off as rude. From a distance, she looks like she’s in her twenties, but on closer examination, she has a few fine lines around her mouth and eyes, so I’m hoping she’s at least thirty.
“Me too,” I say. “I love the history and personality in these buildings. Each one has a story, like the table in your shop. The wood and tile speak to you when you walk in. It’s a spiritual experience, really, to exist in a space with so many stories.”
She smiles.
“Is that weird?” I ask.
“Not at all.”
The waitress comes and we order our BLTs.
“So,” says Micah after she leaves, “tell me about yourself.”
“Well,” I begin. This feels like a job interview. “I live in Birmingham, as you know. I have one son, who is twenty-three. He recently started law school at Alabama, which is crazy to think about. I can’t believe I have a son old enough for grad school.”
She raises her eyebrows and makes a surprised face. “Wow. That’s impressive.”
“What? My son being in law school or me being old enough to have a son in law school?”
“Both. You don’t look old enough to have a grown kid.”
“I’m forty-five. He was born while I was in college, which was tough, but my former wife was a rockstar mom. She took care of him and worked so I could finish school.” There’s a pause in conversation, and I decide to bite the bullet and ask the one thing I know you aren’t supposed to mention on an early date. “How old are you?” I say. I have to know, to make sure I’m not a creep going after a girl my son’s age.
“Thirty,” she says, making a face like she can’t believe she’s admitting to it.
“Thirty is young,” I say in an attempt to reassure her, but in reality I think I’m trying to wrap my head around it. She’s closer to my son’s age than mine. I was learning to drive when she was learning to walk. That’s a little weird to think about, but I push it to the back of my mind. At least she’s not in her twenties. That would be too weird.
“So you’re divorced?” she asks.
“Yes. Five years now. Right after Mason went to college, we separated. She had met someone else and waited until Mason was grown to pursue it.”
“Wow,” she says, her eyes dropping. “I’m sorry.”
I shrug my shoulders. “To be fair, I was a little too career-obsessed and wasn’t home much when she was doing all the work to raise our son. That’s my one regret in life. But it is what it is, and I think we’re all happier now, including Mason.”
“That’s good,” she says. “So your son handled it well?”
“He was shocked at first, especially since it wasn’t a situation where Mom and Dad were fighting all the time. We never talked at all, so he didn’t see it coming. He’s okay now. He stays with his mom and her new partner at their lake house a lot. I think he’s accepted this as the new normal.”
“Yeah, that’s a lot to wrap your head around.”
“It is, but he’s a great kid. Well, I call him a kid. He’s grown, which still blows my mind.” I drink my water and clear my throat. “What about you? Any kids?”
“No, my nana is enough of a handful,” she laughs. “I can’t handle anyone else.”
“Sounds like it.” I almost ask her if she wants kids, but I know that’s not first-date conversation. I will need to know at some point, assuming we make it past this lunch date. If she has dreams of a young husband and a house full of babies, I’m not the guy for her, despite how gorgeous and captivating she is. I can’t go back to diapers and t-ball.
I decide to change the subject. “What was it like to grow up here? In a town this magical, it had to be like something out of a Hallmark movie.”
“Well, I thought it was boring when I was younger, and I guess it was, especially for a high schooler. There wasn’t much to do besides wander the cemeteries and break into old houses.”
“Seriously?” I ask with a small chuckle.
“Oh, yeah. There’s an old graveyard on the other side of the historic district where we used to walk at night, and if you drive about a mile past the Florablanca Inn, there’s a dilapidated house on the river in the Victorian Village where we would go to drink and hang out.”
“Okay, now that sounds like a horror movie.”
“No, it’s absolutely enchanting. I love that house. I wish I could afford to buy it and fix it up. I guess that’s my dream in life. If I win the lottery, that’s what I’m doing.”
