I pulled my black Audi into the community center parking lot and stared at the doors. Despite the hotter than normal temperature for August, a cold, nervous chill overtook me. My hands gripped the steering wheel and I exhaled a deep breath.
I didn’t think that I needed a meeting, yet here I was ready and willing to walk into a room full of people and listen to their stories. I didn’t know if I would speak. What I did know what that I was ready to harness my lonely feelings and let them go. I was ready to move on. I was ready to find love again.
I am ready.
A few more cars pulled into the parking lot and I waited. Watching in silence as everyone else exited their vehicles so that I could slip into the back of the room unnoticed. Ten minutes later, I entered the building welcomed by a blast of cool recycled air. I took a deep breath and planted myself onto a wobbly metal chair.
I didn’t share or talk. I listened as people spoke one by one about different struggles.
About loss.
About suffering.
About grief.
A woman in a white sweater talked about losing her grandson to a rare blood disease. He was less than a year old. Life was cruel.
The sound of metal clanging against metal drew my attention to the door. My eyes widened in surprise at the sight of seeing her standing in the room, bathed in the faint light and nodding in apology to the woman speaking.
What is Hannah doing here?
The woman speaking twisted the tissues in her hands as sobs choked her broken words. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, before shuffling to her seat.
Quiet conversations swirled around the room. My eyes drifted to Hannah. Yesterday, after taking an inventory of the football equipment, I stopped by the main office and pumped the secretary for information. “Pardon me, Celia, but I misplaced my contact information for Luke Richman. Could you remind me of his mother’s name and provide me with her contact number?”
Only, I knew her name. I knew it all too well. It was too fucking easy and all kinds of wrong.
Hannah rose from her seat and walked to the podium. I tugged my ball cap lower onto my forehead and shifted in my seat crouching behind the person sitting in front of me. When she spoke, I couldn’t help but look up at her.
“Hi, I’m Hannah,” she said, gripping the sides of the podium.
The group greeted her in unison. “Hi, Hannah. Welcome.”
“Thanks. I’m here because it’s been a while since I’ve had a bad day. I lost my husband and son a year and a half ago in a tragic accident. My husband, Carter, he and my son, Logan, they were on their way home from a wrestling tournament. Logan, he was heavily involved in sports. Football, wrestling, soccer, if he could have competed in all of them I think he would have.”
Quiet laughter filtered through the crowd and I raised my eyes from staring at the floor to look at her as she continued talking about how her husband and son stopped at a gas station for drinks and snacks.
Hannah fidgeted with the delicate gold chains around her neck. “Carter and Logan walked out of the gas station and the canopy collapsed on top of them. Firefighters said that weather was to blame as there was a fair amount of ice and snow on top of the canopy.”
Gasps and hushed whispers rocked the crowd as Hannah took a deep breath and shoved her hands into her wavy brown hair. “They were just at the wrong place at the wrong time. I’ve looked for meaning in their deaths. Like what was the point? I’ve blamed God, I’ve cursed him.” Swiping her cheeks, Hannah refused to look at the crowd, instead, she looked towards the window. “Then a few months ago, I learned that the gas station was at fault for not keeping up with maintenance and routine inspections. So instead of God, I now had someone to blame for killing Carter and Logan. I know that I’m rambling and I’m not sure why. Today isn’t any special occasion. It’s not a birthday or an anniversary—it’s just a Wednesday, and I miss my family. Some days I worry that if I don’t talk about them, I’ll forget them.”
I rubbed at the back of my neck feeling the tension rolling off me. I understood exactly what Hannah was saying, which is why I was here, but now she was here too. We’d both lost our families.
Hannah turned back towards the crowd. “Recently, something strange happened. I met a man, and he stirred a feeling—a flutter of emotion. I haven’t felt anything like that since my husband died.” A tiny smile pulled at her pink lips. “It feels wrong to think about another man, but my sister she tells me that it’s okay if I want to meet someone.” She paused for a moment, breathing in deeply. “I guess that’s all I wanted to say. Thanks.”
She stepped out from behind the podium and was comforted by hugs and shoulder squeezes. Oddly, I wanted to go to Hannah, and put my arms around her. Let her know that I understood. Part of me wondered if the man she was talking about was me.
Stupid.
Selfish.
Arrogant.
While people gathered around the refreshment table, I made an exit out the back door. I drove to my big empty house and then crawled into my bed alone. Hannah Richman was off-limits. The lines were marked as clearly as the boundaries of the football field. Stepping outside those lines was something I couldn’t afford to do. I needed to put this woman out of my mind.