Day 10

Start writing a story that…

Step 1: includes the words: fantastic  skull  bar

Step 2: add this word: central

Step 3: add this word: napkin

Step 4: add this word: wall

Step 5: add this word: date
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Deede had heard that grocery stores, particularly produce sections, were great places to meet men. She hadn't actually heard it from anyone she knew, but she had seen it in plenty of sitcoms. And it made sense to her. If you meet someone at a bar, they could be a complete jerk with no redeeming qualities. How much can you learn about someone while sitting over a gigantic mixed drink served in a plastic skull? At least that's how she imagined a bar scene, also based on sitcoms.

But a man who went grocery shopping, especially one who bought vegetables, was sure to be fantastic. Or at least a decent person who knew how to cook and understood the importance of health. That's the kind of man she wanted to meet.

That evening after work, she had a quick dinner, put on her favorite dress—a pale blue linen shift with yellow flowers—and drove to Stop & Shop. When she got out of the car, she grabbed a cart and headed straight for the produce. In this particular store, it was centrally located with freezers and deli to one side and cereals and other dry goods to the other. She had chosen this particular store because it was large and well lit, and though that didn't particularly scream "romantic encounter," it suited her.

Deede hadn't intended to be searching for a companion in her 50s, but here she was. She had met her husband, Henry, in high school and, though it wasn't love at first sight, it was pretty close. They were each different from their classmates, although not in the same way. Deede thought that Henry would have been diagnosed with Asperger's, had these things been more known then. He had a brain for palindromes and quantum physics, and if you asked, he would explain the connections between them. He wasn't particularly interested in social matters, except when it came to a good scientific debate, and then he welcomed the conversation. Sometimes he'd be so focused on making a point or providing an explanation that he wouldn't notice his nose had started dripping or that spittle had gathered at the corners of his mouth. When Deede was with him, she would take a napkin and quietly reach over to wipe his face. The first time she did it, she was embarrassed and half-expected him to slap her hand away. Instead, he paused what he was saying, smiled at her, waited until she finished, and then resumed what he had been saying. Henry was neither easily embarrassed nor shy.

Deede, on the other hand, was exceedingly shy. She had had a difficult childhood, though she didn't like most people to know about it. Her parents fought, often screaming, sometimes hitting. They never harmed her, but she couldn't get over her fear of what might happen if their anger turned on her. She learned to stay quiet, blend into the wall, if necessary, to avoid being noticed. And this carried over into school. By high school, she only spoke when teachers required it of her. But her voice was so soft and hard to hear, that eventually most teachers stopped asking. Her classmates didn't understand her, either. They had never been mean to her because of her shyness, but they couldn't comprehend why she stared at them silently when they tried to speak to her. Some assumed she was stupid. Others thought she was stuck up. Over time, they also stopped trying.

But then she met Henry. He didn't know, or care, that other students had given up on her. He saw her reading Carl Sagan's Contact and asked her a question about it. He didn't seem to mind, or care, that she silently stared back at him. Or perhaps, she liked to think, he was the only one who knew that she desperately wanted to talk and just needed the right push. He didn't get her to say anything that day, but he came back the next day with another book that he thought she might like. She took it and smiled, and he said, "You're welcome."

When she finished that book, she practiced for hours how she would return it to him and say "Thank you." She found him by his locker, organizing the textbooks on his tiny, wedged-in shelf. He saw her and paused his work.

"Thank you," she whispered, and pushed the book into his hands.

"Okay," he said, taking the book and putting it on the shelf.

Deede stood there, not wanting to leave, but feeling a knot in her stomach from the embarrassment of the interaction. She watched as he shuffled the books around, then pulled another one out.

"Try this one," he said, handing it to her.

She took the book and smiled at him. He looked at her, and she felt the knot loosen, just a bit, under his gaze.

"Do you want to go on a date?" he asked.