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I look straight ahead and notice a man in a well-tailored suit walking toward me. As he gets a few steps closer, I realize I know him. That’s Charlie. He smiles, recognizing me at the same time.
“Are you following me, or am I lucky enough to run into you three times in . . . five days?” I realize how peculiar this must sound coming from a perfect stranger, but it also feels like the exact thing I should say to him, to Charlie. His name is becoming more comfortable than it should for how well we don’t know each other.
His smile widens, lighting up his entire face. Stopping in front of me, our eyes connect for a few silent seconds, and we laugh. It’s awkward yet somehow makes me feel giddy and happy. “I think I’m the lucky one. Are you heading to work or playing hooky today?”
I look down, liking how he treats me like an old friend instead of someone he just met briefly. “I’m, well . . . this may sound strange, but I’m going to a funeral.” Very uplifting—not!
When I look up again, his eyes brighten, and he chuckles. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, and yeah, strange but coincidental. I’m heading to a funeral myself.”
I smile at the coincidence but show him the appropriate sympathy. “I’m sorry for your loss. Were you close?”
“Regrettably, not recently, but yeah, in my heart. How about you?”
I look at my watch as we shift around each other, not knowing quite what to do, but I don’t want to leave yet. He looks at his watch, then glances at a car nearby. He needs to leave but doesn’t want to, or he would’ve by now. Instead, he turns and starts walking with me in the opposite direction of his intended destination.
“Not in a few months. We weren’t on speaking terms, but we used to be very close. You know, I should get going.” I look forward and say, “He said I was always late to everything. It drove him nuts.” I smile, and a hesitant laugh escapes. We stop and stand together. I’m surprised by the ease of this interaction. “He joked that I’d be late to his funeral if given the chance.”
I see opportunity flash across his face, and a smirk slowly appears. “Do you want that chance?” I stand there speechless as the heaviness of the day weighs me down, making me want to skip the funeral altogether. His face softens with sincerity, and he asks, “You want to hit my funeral first, and then we’ll make an appearance at yours?”
Words fumble from my mouth before I have time to think them through. “This is the weirdest date I have ever been asked out on. I just might have to take you up on your offer.” I laugh, feeling awkward by my assumption. I start walking, hoping to leave the embarrassment of my words behind.
“Hey, Charlie?”
I stop with my back to him, looking over my shoulder. “Yes?”
“I’d really like your company. I could use some today.”
Thinking of every reason not to, I follow my instincts and turn around, walking the few feet back to where he waits. He looks away, ridding himself of the tears that have formed in his eyes.
I wasn’t going to make a big deal about it. Obviously, he was closer to the person who passed than he let on, and sometimes a stranger can offer more comfort than someone who knows your burdens and your baggage.
With a light touch, I press my fingertips against his hand. “I could use some, too—a little company, that is.” Sliding my hand up the sleeve of his jacket, I intertwine my arm with his, and we walk together.
Something about Charlie makes me trust him. I think it’s his eyes and the truths that are so evident in them.
We don’t talk as we walk, no words feeling necessary, until we reach Park Avenue, leaving the peacefulness of the street we were on. A jolt of city life hits as we join the crowds. I stop on the sidewalk and look at him, releasing his arm.
“What?” he asks, concern etching his features.
“We’re not . . . I mean, this isn’t a real date? I just used the wrong term earlier, that’s all. I mean, you went out with Rachel just two nights ago. She’s my friend.”
He looks at me, baffled by my crazy mutterings. “No, Charlie, I didn’t think you meant an actual date.” He chuckles and starts moving, tugging me by the coat sleeve, playful and cute, a little one-sided grin slipping out. “What kind of date would this be? A depressing one, that’s for sure.”
I double step to catch up with him. “I appreciate the company. I just didn’t mean to imply you were hitting on me or anything like that. We just ran into each oth—”
