Page 100 of Letting Go at 40

“Anna. She said that even though my mommy isn’t here anymore I can go to her for anything. She’s family.”

“Is that why you are drawing all of us together?” Lynlee has added Bryce with an extra-large head, making him bigger in size than me. He is as tall as I am and filling out in width, but he isn’t that giant. Calvin is next and she’s making him as big as Bryce.

Lynlee nods. “Families come in all shapes and sizes,” she repeats what her teacher told her.

For the longest time, I just stare at the image, imagining us as a blended family. One full of love that starts with the same letter as Lynlee’s name and includes the letter V which looks like a heart.

+ + +

Stirred by Lynlee’s drawing, I sit on the couch in the garage apartment after she’s in bed. The picture is displayed with pride on our refrigerator where Lynlee hung it with magnets Anna gave her.

Sipping from a glass of scotch, I note that I’m spending my Valentine’s night in much the same way I did a year ago. Alone.

When a soft knock comes to the door of the apartment, I shouldn’t be shocked, but I am surprised.

“May I come in?” Anna asks when I open the door.

I could snark that it’s her home. The main house. The land. The apartment. This is her place. I’m a guest, but I bite my tongue and tip my head.

Anna enters, removes her coat and steps out of her boots. Guess she’s staying a bit.

My head space is still clouded by Lynlee’s words and Anna’s earlier reaction. I drop back down to the couch and stare at the blank television set. Purposely avoiding turning on any lamps, I’d been sitting in the dimly-lit room.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Anna begins.

“It was nothing. Like you said.” I reach for my glass and take another drink.

“Mason, you know I didn’t mean that.”

“Do I?” I turn to her. “Where do we stand, Anna? What are we doing with each other?”

“We’re enjoying each other.” She hesitates, not sounding convinced herself.

“Are you telling me or trying to convince yourself?”

Her back stiffens, forcing her to sit straighter on the other couch. We’re four feet apart and miles away from one another.

“I like being with you,” she admits. “My reaction to Mila walking in on us was just a reaction. I didn’t know what to say at first.”

The element of surprise had been the case with Mila’s appearance and her outrage.

You said you weren’t getting married again.

Out of the mouths of babes. How Mila jumped to marriage from a clandestine kiss is beyond me. But isn’t that my end with Anna? I didn’t want a fling with her.

Then there was Anna’s response.

We aren’t getting married. We’re . . . Her pause seemed to say it all.

We’re enjoying each other as she’d just said. The explanation sounds weak. Anna and I are clearly not on the same page.

“You could have said we are together. Dating.” I stare at her.

Anna sighs. “Are we dating? I don’t know a thing about modern dating. I take my cues from the kids who mention things like ‘talking to someone’ or ‘hanging out with someone’ but dating is a commitment that doesn’t get said. And when it does, it’s all official-like with words like will you be my girlfriend?” Anna wrinkles her nose. “Who really asks that?”

Priding myself on the modern lingo of dating, so I don’t slip up and say something I shouldn’t, I know exactly who asks questions like will you be my girlfriend? Kids. People under thirty act this way.

Of anyone I know, Anna should recognize commitment. She was married for almost twenty years. Plus, I’ve been here for her.