Love at the Marketplace

Today is your average Monday, boring and long. It is a beautiful day, and the weather is amazing, but when you look out the same window day after day, the scenery is no longer comforting or spectacular. I have many errands to run in town today. Since my husband left me, I have to do them all myself. This usually takes me all day, so I save them for Mondays. I figure if I have to be out running around, Monday, the day of the week most of the shops are closed and traffic is nonexistent, is the best day to do them.

As I pull into the parking spot in front of the Market, I see that the same beat-up blue Chevy pickup is down the road. I know that the super good-looking man in the produce department is here. I think his name is Ben. Ben is tall, at least six foot four, with dark brown hair and the bluest of eyes I have ever seen. He is just so gorgeous! His smile just warms my heart and I actually get butterflies.

I walk inside and try to stay invisible, heading straight for the produce section with my list clutched in my hand. The store is quiet this early. For some reason, today he actually notices me. Me! He looks up from stacking apples and asks if it is hot outside. For a second, I do not answer. Could he really be talking to me? I look around briefly then answer. "Yes," I say with a slight stutter, "it is very warm and very beautiful out."

"Hi, Mary," Ben says, that amazing smile spreading across his face. He remembers my name. "I'm Ben."

"I'm Mary. Nice to meet you, Ben," I manage, even though he just said my name like he has known it all along. It is so nice to meet him too. My heart is doing something strange in my chest.

Without knowing what else to say or do, I just start to put random things in my cart. How embarrassing. Now I will have to wait until he goes in the back to put some of this back. Why would I buy a rutabaga? It sits there next to the lettuce like some kind of ugly accusation. I do not even know how to cook one of those.

"So, Mary," Ben asks, leaning a little on the edge of a bin of green beans, "how long have you lived here in Warwick?" I am caught off guard with the question. "I have lived here my whole life," I answer. "What about you?"

He looks at me for what seems a good five minutes and smiles that amazing smile and says, "I have lived here going on five years." Oh God, a conversation with Ben! I can barely get any words out now. It has been way too long since I have flirted, much less carried a conversation with another man.

Is it normal to want to just abandon my cart and run out of the store? Oh, for the love of God, Mary, get your stuff together. He is just a person. Yeah, right. His blue eyes stay on me like I am someone worth looking at, and that alone makes my hands sweat.

"Well, Ben, it was really nice meeting you," I say, my voice a little higher than usual. "I have to get going as I have so much to do today." Winking at me, Ben says, "Enjoy the rest of your day, Mary," and goes about his work. I nearly trip over my own feet turning the cart around. The wheel catches on a mat and I have to yank it free, cheeks burning.

I speed-shop the rest of my list and am breathing pretty heavy by the time I make it to the checkout counter. Feeling like a schoolgirl, I ask the cashier if I am blushing. She takes one look at me and giggles. "I see you met Ben," Sarah says, her ponytail bouncing. "He has that effect on many of the ladies around here. Honestly, he asked me earlier if you usually come in on Mondays. He has been watching for you."

My mouth goes dry. "He... asked about me?"

"Uh-huh. Don't look so shocked. You're nice. Not everyone who comes through here is." She bags the ridiculous rutabaga without comment, though her eyes dance with amusement. I pay as fast as I can and practically flee the store.

Now, if I can just manage to drive home without driving off the road. The way I am shaking tells me that I am indeed falling for a man I just properly met. Also, I need to read up on how to date again. It has been way too long. Twenty-eight years of marriage, and now this. My ex wanted someone younger, prettier. He made sure I knew it. Yet Ben looked at me like I was still here, still solid, still worth a smile and a wink.

The quiet streets of Warwick slide past my windows. Every familiar porch and storefront feels different somehow. I park in my driveway and carry the bags inside one by one. The house is too quiet, the way it always is on Mondays after the errands are done. I set the groceries on the counter and pull out the rutabaga last. It sits there, knobby and brown and completely useless to me. I do not know a single recipe. I just bought it so I would not stand there empty-handed under those blue eyes.

I make a cup of tea and lean against the counter, staring at that ridiculous vegetable. My hands have finally stopped shaking, but something else is buzzing under my skin. For the first time in months, maybe years, I do not feel completely invisible. Sarah said he asked about me. He remembered my name. He winked. I press my palms flat on the cool laminate and let out a long breath.

Can a woman like me actually start over? Fifty-two, divorced, plain as the day is long. The thought is terrifying. It is also, if I am honest with myself, a little wonderful. It feels so great to be looked at in a positive way for a change, instead of feeling like an old piece of furniture. I pick up the rutabaga and turn it over in my hands. Maybe I will look up how to cook it. Or maybe I will just leave it there as a reminder that for one strange Monday morning in the produce aisle, someone saw me. And I liked it.