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  The array of choices was staggering. There were magazines for everyone, with paperbacks on the far side. Not as many of those. Eve would’ve liked the selection. Pictures of far off places full of adventure and slim drinks garnished with wedges of fruit.

  Move on, said the better half of his mind, as the other half let out its air and sunk a little deeper.

  He found the history mags in a slot next to the gun periodicals. There was a special on Teddy Roosevelt. Teddy was one of his favorites. He grabbed a copy and started flipping.

  One page, then another, and then another. It didn’t stick, like he’d forgotten how to read. With a silent huff he replaced the magazine, searching for another. Nothing of interest.

  In the midst of his search his eyes glanced left to make sure he wasn’t blocking the aisle. No one there except a girl, maybe in her early teens - grabbing one card, then another from the greeting card section. He saw her giggle, replace the card, select a new one, and then giggle again.

  Thank you cards, he thought. Eve would’ve done that. She sent thank you cards for the smallest things. He’d never understood it. Wasn’t a verbal thanks enough? No, she would say. Sending a formal thank you was a solid contract of understanding between two parties. It was elevated. It was the way you behaved.

  It was silly really, at least in Elmore’s mind.

  But now, there were the cards before him.

  Something simple, he thought, for the friends who’d dropped off food. For the reverend of their church who presided over her service. Elmore didn’t remember the words, but he was sure they’d been beautiful. The young man who’d become their preacher the year before had been Eve’s favorite. Of course he had. He was young and full of energy. Sometimes too much energy for Elmore. Elmore was used to the endless drone from the pulpit. Now it was all hands in the air and smiles to the congregation.

  Back to task.

  He selected a plain stack of thank you cards. Good for everyone. No way did he want to stick around and pick a different one out for each recipient. A pack was efficient. A pack was cost-effective. Utilitarian. Here was the melding of his ways with her ways.

  Satisfied, he placed the stack of cards in the empty cart. One thing done, he thought.

  He pushed his cart around the girl who seemed to have found a card she liked. They didn’t make eye contact. Such a thing wasn’t done now. Now the name of the game was to stay in your own lane and stay glued to your smartphone. And that was fine with Elmore. This wasn’t a social call.

  But he couldn’t help notice her furtive look, from the card to the rack. Then her hand reached inside a pocket of her jeans. Out of the corner his eye he saw the girl pull out a wad of bills. He guessed two, maybe three.

  She was counting, and then looking up at the rack again.

  He saw her shake her hanging head, place the card back in the rack, and then move past him.

  Elmore watched the girl go. Why the pull? Who was she? No one he knew. But his gaze drifted from where the girl had disappeared to the card rack. The card she’d replaced sat askew. The label above the slot read: Get Well – Mother.

  Live.

  Elmore made his move.

  Chapter Five

  He rushed from the store, plastic bag in hand, thank you cards stuffed in his coat pocket. He scanned the parking lot. His body didn’t feel like his own. He felt a tingling thrill. He’d never done anything like this. This was something Eve would do- not him.

  Elmore found the girl sitting on the bench at the new bus stop, feet tapping on the pavement. He approached cautiously, clutching the grocery bag in his sweaty hand.

  “Excuse me,” he said.

  She didn’t look up, still tapping her feet.

  “Excuse me,” he repeated, moving closer.

  Now she looked up and he saw the white cables running from her ears, the tail tucked into the folds of her clothes along with her hands.

  She removed the bud from her right ear. “Yeah?” Wariness there.

  Elmore held out the bag.

  “That’s not mine.”

  “Here,” he said, reaching out further. Why couldn’t he find the words? His mouth felt sandpaper dry.

  “I said that’s not mine.”

  Elmore took in the rest of the details now. Brown hair, slightly unkempt. Was that the style now? Blue jeans – were they even called that now? Torn bottoms. An oversized sweatshirt. He couldn’t tell if she weighed under or over a hundred pounds. Thirteen or eighteen? No clue.

  “I… I thought you might like it.” The words sounded wooden and awkward to his own ears.

  “What are you, some kind of perv?” The phone came out now like a blazing sword ready to save the day.

  Elmore placed the bag on the ground and raised his hands to shoulder level. It hurt to go much higher.

  “I saw you looking at the card. And I thought you might be thirsty.”

  She cocked her head, halfway to calling the police for sure. Then she looked down at the bag, nudged it with her foot.

  When it didn’t jump up at her, she reached down and pulled the card out.

  She stared at it. Was it disbelief? Or more wariness?

  She looked up at him, her eyes narrowed to slits. “What do you want?”

  “Nothing. I promise. I just…” He closed his eyes and exhaled. “My name is Elmore Nix. I’m not a… a perv. I’m just… well, there it is. I thought you might be thirsty.”

  She reached down and pulled the Gatorade bottle from the bag now. He’d almost turned but found himself lingering. He wanted to see her reaction, good or bad. How could things get much worse?

  But her face didn’t harden; it crept toward the other end of the spectrum. Not a smile, but at least she’d loosened the death grip on the phone, had actually set it in her lap.

  “I am thirsty,” she said. “What’s the catch?”

  “No catch,” he said, smiling. “Pay it forward.”

  He turned and started off. He’d done his duty for Eve. She would’ve liked the girl, he thought. Eve would’ve asked her about the music she was listening to, talked to her about riding the bus, which would’ve brought out the stories of how she’d taken a bus tour through Europe in college. That was Eve, not him.

  “And thanks for the card,” the girl called out when he was ten steps away.

  He looked back. “You’re welcome.”

  “It’s for my mom,” she said.

  He chuckled. “Yeah, I kind of figured.”

  “You shouldn’t go buying cards for people though. I’m just sayin’. Some people might find it a little creepy.”

  There was no wariness in that. And there was almost a smile.

  And as he walked off, he recognized something. He analyzed it in the wake of echoes. Something in her voice.

  A sadness that only the lost can feel.

  Chapter Six

  Two more days at home. He didn’t need much to eat. He’d found he wasn’t as hungry as he usually was. He ate just enough to sustain him. Martha was gone, so it was all on him.

  There were calls, luckily all by phone. No well-wishers at the front door. Another thing that wasn’t done these days. Back when his mother had died, half the neighborhood came by every day for a month. He remembered his father had tried in vain to chase them off each time. His father – another long-lost memory that had stamped its presence on the soul of Elmore Nix.

  “Time to clean this place up,” he said to himself. He liked things tidy. Not in a compulsive way. It was just that tidiness simplified life. Elmore liked simple. It was easier that way.

  And yet, as he picked up the broom, he thought of her, of Eve, his beloved. She liked to sweep. Imagine that. A person who enjoyed sweeping the bits of dropped life from the floor. He’d hold the dust pan for her after chuckling at the way she literally danced with the broom across the floor. He laughed because he knew she’d do it whether he was there or not. But when he watched her, her hips swaying to some tune that she hummed, barely audible, his
heart danced with her.

  What he wouldn’t give for one more dance with her, one more body to body squeeze. The way his fingers sank slightly into the flesh below her ribs. And that awful ginger smell of that all-natural shampoo on her hair. How he hated it then. How he longed for its sharp sweetness now.

  He’d made it all the way to the living room before he realized where he was. And it took him a few more beats to hear the knocking at the front door.

  He set the broom against the wall. The knocking came again.

  No reason to call out. The person on the other side probably wouldn’t hear him anyway. He looked through the spyhole. It took a second to focus. The back of someone’s head.

  Go get the gun, he thought. No, it’s the middle of the day.

  Then the figure turned. He stepped back in shock. It was the girl from the grocery store.

  He almost didn’t open the door. Why should he? His part in her drama was over. He’d had no intention of cultivating the relationship any further than a random good deed.

  But he opened the door anyway, slowly, cautiously, as if he half-expected the girl to leap nails-first through the screen door.

  “Hello, Mr. Nix,” the girl said, chomping on a piece of pink bubble gum that formed fractals of pink latticework between her teeth.

  “Good morning,” he said tentatively.

  “Yeah, it’s actually afternoon.” The girl pointed up at the sun. “And a beautiful one. You really should be outside.”

  Elmore nodded. “How did you… is there something you need?”

  “The Internet. You said your name. I just looked you up.” She blew a bubble and sucked it back into her gaping maw just as it popped. “You should look into wiping your info from the search engines, you know. Some creep could steal your identity, and then it’s years in legal costs. Happened to an uncle of mine. Nice house.” She inspected the door frame.

  “Thanks.”

  They stood in silence for a moment. The girl snapped another bubble.

  “So,” he said, “is there something—"

  “I wanted to say thanks, you know, for the card and for the drink. You didn’t have to do that.”

  The flutter in his chest made him steady his breath.

  “You’re welcome.” Pause. What were the words? Then they came. “You know you could’ve called. If you found my address, then you found my number. Both are online.”

  She smiled. “You’re right.” Then she looked down at her phone. “But I…” She seemed to be gathering her thoughts, thinking of the right teen response. Something snarky maybe. Something meme-worthy. Wasn’t that what the kids called it? But no “snark” came forth. “I needed to get out of the house, you know. Thought it might be a nice day for a walk.”

  She spoke the way kids her age speak – ending everything in a question mark. Thought it might be a nice day for a walk?

  “Sure,” he said. “A nice day for a walk.”

  She was avoiding eye contact now.

  “Well, um, like I said, thanks for the stuff?”

  A short wave and she was turning, already a step away.

  “Did your mom like the card?” Elmore blurted.

  She froze mid stride, her foot settling down in a careful maneuver of control. He thought he detected a slump of her shoulders and drop of her head. His father had called it the “I’m feeling sorry for myself” look.

  “Yeah, she liked it.”

  “It was funny.”

  She nodded, saying nothing. He just stood there. Was the interaction over? What was the next move? Social interaction wasn’t his forte, especially with teens. They were closer to alien beings than members of his own race. Elmore didn’t understand their mannerisms, lingo, or choice in music. He didn’t judge. Never that. He’d been judged, and he hated it. It was more like a person from the depths of Africa gazing on a person from the West for the first time. Totally foreign, a novelty, and an impossible bridge to cross.

  The girl fully pivoted toward him, eyes still glued to the path, or maybe it was her feet. More fidgety hands.

  “I lied.”

  Tingles ran the length of Elmore’s arms. “Excuse me?”

  “I said I lied. About my mom.”

  Elmore saw where this was going. He’d been scammed.

  “You don’t have a mom.”

  Her eyes shot up, angry at first, then understanding.

  “No, I have a mom. It’s just… well, she didn’t understand the card, or at least, she didn’t care.”

  He’d missed the mark. It wasn’t the first time and definitely wouldn’t be the last. But Elmore Nix was not one of those people who hammered themselves into pâté for getting something wrong. He simply recognized the mistake, learned the lesson, and moved on. Efficient.

  “I don’t understand,” he said.

  “My mom, well…”

  Her eyes searched his. He wanted to look away. He was in uncharted territory. Eve would know what to do. He almost reached for the door jamb and called his wife’s name. The awareness of her absence gouged him deeper than he would’ve thought possible.

  The girl didn’t finish her thought. Her mood had suddenly lightened. Elmore thought it was contrived; the teen putting on a brave face. But for what? “I’ve gotta go. Thanks again, Mr. Nix.”

  Again his mouth ran away like it had established a mind of its own.

  “It’s Elmore. I mean, call me Elmore.”

  She grinned. “I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but that’s a funny name.”

  “Which one?”

  “Both.”

  “Elmore’s an old name.”

  “Yeah, I got that.”

  “It’s a family name.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re like the first Elmore I’ve ever met.”

  Elmore Nix opened the screen door, took a step outside and stuck out his hand.

  “Elmore Thaddeus Nix at your service.”

  She actually giggled, but she shook his hand. It wasn’t the shake of a nervous teen, all tentative and loose as a wriggling fish. It was firm, dry, and fixed.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Elmore Thaddeus Nix. Good Lord, that’s awesome. It’s even better to say it than to hear it. I’m Samantha. My friends call me Sam.” She put one hand in her pocket and lifted the other chin height. “Well, catch you on the flip-flop, Elmore Thaddeus Nix.”

  Chapter Seven

  Eve would’ve liked Sam. Elmore found himself imagining the conversation they’d have about the girl. In his mind, he pretended that Eve had been gone when Sam came by, that it was his duty to fill her in on every detail. That was the way Eve lived. She poked and prodded, scraped away layers until she’d uncovered the beauty deep down. That’s what she called it, the beauty deep down. His wife believed that fact with every ounce of her beautiful soul. She saw the good, through and through.

  And now, as he had the silent conversation with his wife, Elmore picked the brief visit apart. The details of Sam’s clothing, the way she spoke of her mother.

  Elmore and Eve couldn’t have kids. Eve said it didn’t matter. He’d always been convinced that it was him. Maybe a by-product of his late teens or his time overseas.

  Elmore had even secretly thought about getting check out. His wife could be an amazing mother, a perfect mother. She had a seamless blend of outward love and the nurturing patience of a grade school teacher. She should’ve been blessed with a child in her womb.

  “I miss you so much, honey,” Elmore whispered to the empty house. He put his head against the cool wall, closed his eyes, and said it again. His grief formed a squeezing fist around his soul until it choked him.

  He slogged away the rest of the day in silence, flicking on the television after dinner, then turning it off after ten minutes of running through the shows - their shows.

  He went to sleep dreaming of Eve, of lost moments, of life alone. His last thought before fading to fitful sleep was he was falling down a deep well, far from civilization, far from help. Completely
alone. The fading form of her on the opposite side of the bed faded a little more.

  Chapter Eight

  It was Sunday. The newspaper said so.

  The newspaper had been a staple in their home. He always read it cover to cover while Eve did the crossword puzzle.

  He couldn’t make himself read it now. It dripped with so much memory that just the sight of it, made him want to fall to his knees. Maybe he would call the newspaper and cancel his subscription. Maybe. Tomorrow he’d divest himself of all previous routines. Always tomorrow.

  Freshly showered, Elmore stared at himself in the mirror. He was sixty-seven but still had the physique of a much younger man. Call it genetics. Call it the love of a great woman. Call it luck.

  But beneath that exterior was the creeping disease. Cancer. He didn’t want to think about it. How something so small could be eating away at his insides. He’d faced the fire before, but at least that had been something else he could see, confront head-on. But this, this was something different, something he didn’t want to deal with.

  He’d just bitten into his pitiful piece of toast, overdone, not the same as Eve’s perfect golden brown, when the phone on the wall rang.

  He let it ring on and on before the digital voicemail picked up. He missed the machines, the kind you could listen to as a caller left a message. No listening in now. He’d been plagued by telemarketers as of late. The ringing stopped, then started again. He let it continue. It went through the requisite five chimes and then faded back to silence.

  And then, it started again a moment later.

  Elmore rose from the kitchen table and answered the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Took you long enough, Elmore Thaddeus Nix. Good morning.”

  His face scrunched, then the strings on the corners of his mouth loosened into a tiny smile.

  “Sam?”

  “Bingo.”

  “I thought you were a telemarketer.”

  He heard the snort of a laugh, something both all-teen and all-Sam.