Page 66 of Learning at 40

“You can still talk to me about him. Tell me about Ben.” She’s already told me some things when we first went out, and I’ve heard bits and pieces from the men as they’ve spoken about their wild friendship throughout the dinners I’ve shared with the group. “Tell me something unique about him. What was his favorite color? What did he love to eat? What was a song he loved to sing?”

For the next hour, Anna speaks, giving me the mundane details about her husband. We finish the bottle of wine she brought, and I open another one. The following hour passes with her telling me more about the ache in her chest and the emptiness in her bed.

“That might have been too much,” she says, as a way of apology for explaining how much she missed sex and the feel of his hands on her. She missed kissing him and took it for granted that she’d have years to continue pressing her lips to his.

“You can tell me anything you wish.” What I offer is the truth. I’m happy to hear about how wonderful they were and how they were not-quite-so perfect at the same time.

“I’m not close with my younger sister. Fortunately, I have an amazing relationship with Ben’s sister, Autumn. She’s become one of my best friends, but I feel weird discussing intimate details with her about her brother. The truth is most of my friends are in Chicago. Over the past year, I haven’t kept in touch as well as I should, and I worry I’ve made a big mistake agreeing to move our family here. I don’t have those friendships to support me.” Her voice grows quieter as she speaks, and her fingers trace along the edge of my table.

“I don’t have any girlfriends here either.” I have work companions and a few nursing friends in the larger city, but with our chaotic schedules, we don’t have the opportunity to see each other often enough.

“I just needed someone impartial.” I understood. Anna needs a friend without a connection to Ben. She needs to take those baby steps to move forward without every detail of her future life revolving around her loss.

“I totally understand, and my door is always open. I’ve enjoyed talking to you. I want us to be friends, Zack or no Zack.”

Anna sighs in relief. Her shoulders fall, and her hands stop moving along the table. “Agreed. Zack or no Zack, I’d love a new friend.”

“I’m only curious, but why aren’t you part of the bonding ritual?” I don’t need to specifically reference the fire for her to know I mean tonight’s memorial.

“Ben wrote them letters. Each of them has a mission to complete in a year. Even my damn brother has a directive, and he hasn’t been home in years.” Anna sighs. Her voice saddens as she asks, “Why do you think Ben left them a letter and not me?”

“It sounds like you and Ben were very open in your relationship. Perhaps he said everything he ever needed to say to you. He knew you’d be able to carry on, but those fools needed a final word of advice.” It was a stab in the dark at the thoughts of a dying man I didn’t know. Anna softly smiles, and I can only hope I’ve hit the mark or at least dispelled the question.

“You’re a strong woman to have been through what you went through, River. And I’m sorry Zack added to the grief of your situation. It wasn’t right of him. You’re a survivor.” She pauses a beat. “I’m not as strong as you.”

“Yes, you are.” I mean every word. “You’ll make it through this. You just take it day by day. Some days will be good, and some won’t be, but you make it through the day and do it again the next day and the next. Days will turn into weeks, but there is no rush. There isn’t a finish line. Day by day, my friend,” I repeat, holding out my hand across the table.

“Day by day,” she echoes and reaches over for mine. She swallows hard and adds, “Thank you for listening.”

“Listening is what friends do.”

She squeezes my hand, and I know she’ll get where she needs to be. It’s just going to take time.

25

[Zack]

“Flowers?” Mason snorts. “That’s how you wanted to win her back? You can’t woo a woman on flowers alone.”

I’ve spent most of the evening glancing up the cliff in hopes of seeing River at the edge of her property or even coming down the stairs to the beach, and I can’t seem to help myself. I peer upward again before looking at Mason.

“And how would you know about wooing a woman? You’ve never wooed anyone in your life.”

“I do, too, know how to woo.”

Logan breaks into hardy laughter as the three of us remain around the beach fire. We’ve let it dwindle to low embers so we don’t get in trouble for a full blaze in the dark. The wind is low tonight, and it’s a perfect evening for what we need to do soon.

“And I don’t need to woo when I have all this.” Mason draws a hand down the length of his body as he sits in a chair opposite me.

“Fuck off,” I mutter, and he laughs. “I don’t know how else to apologize. I’ve said I’m sorry. I gave her flowers.” I sound like a chump, but I honestly don’t know what else to do. When Jeanine and I fought, we fought. There weren’t passionate apologies or vigorous makeup sex. We silently went about, tiptoeing around one another until the boys needed something and the next fight began. I told River I didn’t like confrontation, and I didn’t want to argue with her ever. She told me it was inevitable, but she assured me we’d always make up.

We hadn’t made up. “She doesn’t want me within ten feet of her,” I remind them.

“When has that stopped you?” Logan teases. “You need a grand gesture.”

Oh God. Not more romantic bullshit. Logan has gone so soft and squishy for his new wife and their baby boy that he practically has heart emoji eyeballs. It’s sickeningly sweet, and I’m so fucking envious it comes naturally to him.

“Like what?” I ask Logan instead of Mason, who wouldn’t actually know how to woo a woman.