by Nella Tyler
“Well, I realize that may not sound like something you want to do, but it’s fairly obvious that you aren’t comfortable in a bar and there’s only so many groceries you can buy, so that doesn’t leave you very many places to meet someone.”
“What makes everyone insist that I need to meet anyone, at all?” Mackenzie’s normally melodic voice was a little tense. Perhaps the drink hadn’t begun to take effect quite yet.
“Hey, I don’t mean to get into your business. It’s just that your alone, you’re a very attractive woman, and you’ve got a lot of life left ahead of you. There’s a point when respect for your grieving becomes unhealthy, you know?”
“Now, you sound like my therapist,” she said, grinning and stirring her drink with the tiny red straw the bartender had added.
“I’m just saying, you could sign up on a dating site and only look for a pen pal. Just someone to talk to. It gives you something to look forward to on Friday nights rather than coming to a bar.”
“So, I have to ask you, Tim. If you’ve got an online sweetie, why are you here?”
“I’m not here for long,” he answered her, downing the rest of his drink. “I’m just killing time until she’s off work. She’s on the west coast, a couple of hours behind us.”
Mackenzie nodded, absorbing his words. She had not ever really considered that she could just have a pen pal. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea, after all. “So, if you were me, which dating site would you sign up on?”
He tapped the side of his empty glass, but when the bartender came to refill it, Tim laid his hand over the top. He was musing her question. “I think I might try solitaire.com, and just sign up for a month to see how you like it. You need to put up a profile, you know. People won’t talk to you at all if you don’t have at least a couple of pictures and something about yourself. It makes you look like a scammer.”
“A scammer? On a dating site? How does that work?”
“Well, there are number of ways, but one would be a guy might start talking to you and then ask you for your personal email address. He may suggest that he’s just under a trial membership and will be disappearing before too long. If you agree to give him your email, he now has one form of your identity. A lot of websites request your email as your login. From there, he can use apps that have algorithms to discover your password. So, an email leads to possibly being scammed.”
“Oh, well, there goes that idea. I’m not going to sign up for something and have my identity stolen.”
“Well, just like in the real world, you have to sort of protect yourself. I might suggest beginning with a pseudonym and an email address that you don’t use for anything else. Set up a new one, maybe at Yahoo or Gmail.
“When it comes to the website, you can make anything be your profile name. You could call yourself lonely lady, first time out, looking for pen pal… You get the idea. You will want to use a picture of yourself, preferably two.”
“Oh, I haven’t had any pictures taken since David died. You mean I have to go down to a photo studio?”
“Boy, you really are behind the times, aren’t you? Haven’t you ever heard of a selfie?”
“Sure, but that’s hardly going to look worth a darn. After all, my arm is only so long.”
“Listen, I have to run,” he said. “But, before I leave, go over there and stand against that potted palm. Hand me your phone, and I’ll snap a picture of you.”
“You really think that’s appropriate? Isn’t everyone going to think I’m a lush, that I hang out in bars, and that I’m loose?” Mackenzie was not too keen on this idea.
“I suppose you would be more comfortable taking a selfie in church?” Tim grinned and grabbed her phone. “Don’t be silly. It will look like you don’t sit home on Friday nights.”
“What difference does it make if I do? If I’m only looking for a pen pal?”
“You make a valid point, however, I’m hoping you eventually graduate up to actually talking to someone local. You might even go on a date?”
Mackenzie nodded, finished the last of her drink, and went to stand next to the potted palm. Tim snapped a few shots and then handed her phone as a left they bar together. “Now go home, make yourself another drink, sign up for the site, and be a good girl.” He grinned and winked at her.
Mackenzie’s mouth was hanging open with the ready comeback but Tim had already climbed into his car and started the motor. He waved briefly as he pulled away from the curb before she got into her own car and left.
Chapter Two
Mackenzie mulled the idea over in her head as she drove home. She stopped at the little grocery on the corner near her house to pick up a few simple things. On an impulse, she added a bottle of wine to her basket. Why not go all the way? she thought to herself. The clerk, Betty Lou, knew her and raised her eyebrows when she saw the wine.
“Don’t say a word,” Mackenzie warned her with a smile.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Betty Lou played along, smiling. She leaned forward and whispered, “But, I’m glad.”
Mackenzie unlocked her front door and flipped on the light switch. The room flooded with lamplight and even though she had already done this a hundred times before, the loneliness hit her in the gut once again. She stowed the groceries in the refrigerator and left the rest on the countertop. She headed for her bedroom, taking time to stop in the bathroom, plug the drain, and begin a hot bath.
In her bedroom, she hung up her dress, pulled off the rest of her things, and then eased into the hot water of the tub with a sigh of relief. Even this represented something that she and David done together. It was so hard to find things to do that did not evoke some memory. She missed him terribly. She missed all the things they did together. Life only seemed half lived since he was gone.
Afterward, she dressed in a gown and robe, poured herself a glass of wine, and settled down at the desk, snapping on the computer. She uploaded the photos Tim had taken of and spent a bit of time cropping them so she didn’t feel so hideous. Why is it no one ever likes pictures of themselves?
She delayed, going through her email and even reading the spam. She felt busy and it gave her a few more excuses to put off the inevitable. She knew it was time that she re-enter the world. She took a long drink from the wine glass and considering the liquor already in her system, she had begun to feel a gentle buzz.
Mackenzie sat back in her chair, considering what she would say in her profile. She looked around the room. It was very tastefully decorated, in a traditional sense. There were two large beige sofas that faced one another with a glass-topped coffee table on wrought iron legs stationed between them. There were large houseplants strategically located next to windows where they could drink in the sunlight. Her color scheme included lilac, ivy green, white, and touches of bright purple. The effect was subtle and comforting.
She had collected a number of oil paintings over the years. David had often laughed at her, teasing her that she was an art investor. She had continued, however, and now the paintings comforted her as they hung on the surrounding walls. Each one represented an outing, vacation, or other special occasion when she and David had gone together and bought them. She took a few moments to light a series of candles on the mantle over the fireplace. She was beginning to feel very soothed and calm, not the normal depression she had suffered on Friday nights of the past.
She eventually typed in solitaire.com, pulled out her credit card, and looked the site over. Remembering Tim’s advice, she pulled up a new browser so that she could set up a Gmail account under a different name.
She was still a bit nervous about doing this, not entirely sure what to expect. To mock herself, she chose the name Alice Wonderland and set up a new email account. Skipping over to solitaire.com she opened an account, used AliceWonderland as her profile name, and uploaded the pictures. She realized that when she carefully cropped them, no one would realize it was strictly a bar, but perhaps think it was a wedding reception or business me
eting. Let them assume what they want, she thought to herself.
When it came to her profile, she chose to put the least amount of information that it required. She knew she could always come back to it and update it, but for now, she was just curious about the experience overall. She filled in her birthday, birth city, race, number of children, and a few other ordinary prompts the system seemed to demand.
When it came to the one for marital status, Mackenzie clicked the “Widowed” box with a heavy heart. She hated that word. It was an exclusive word, putting you outside the realm of people who continued to have families and partners and enjoyed life. It was as if you were dead yourself.
She reviewed all of the information and finally clicked the “enter” button. There was a finality to that movement; she had just put herself back on the open market. Having done so, she pushed her chair back and stood, deliberating for the next few seconds whether she truly wanted to do what she just had done. With resolve, she went to the kitchen for a cup of tea.
She popped her cup of water into the microwave and tapped it on. She watched the cup as it revolved around and around, personally identifying with the repetitive movement. She had been doing the same in her life. Going through the cycle, over and over each day. It was time for that to end.
A ding stirred her from her reverie. Reaching toward the microwave, she was surprised to see the cup was still rotating. She looked around and realized it was coming from the next room. She glanced at the computer and saw a box had popped up at the side of the screen. As she watched, the bell sounded again, along with lines of text scrolling up onto the screen. She realized someone was sending her a message.
HarryM: Hello. You must be new.
Mackenzie froze. She wasn’t ready for this.
She had planned to sort through the provided candidates as though she were looking for shoes in a catalog. She never expected the pair of shoes to speak to her. She sat down in a chair and put her fingers on the keyboard tentatively.
AliceWonderland: Hello, I’m Alice. How did you know?
HarryM: I go through all the local profiles very regularly. I never saw yours before. I would have remembered.
AliceWonderland: How do I see your profile?
HarryM: My, but you are new.
AliceWonderland: Just one cup of tea old.
HarryM: How do you mean?
AliceWonderland: I just put up my profile and walked into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. That’s when your message popped up. Nevermind, that sounded silly, didn’t it?
HarryM: Not really. I was just glad when you typed back. It’s always a gamble whether there’s a real person at the other end or it’s the computer generated response.
Mackenzie frowned at this bit of knowledge.
AliceWonderland: Do you mean to tell me that not everyone here is real?
HarryM: You really are new. Yes, my dear, I hate to tell you this, but the site makes money off subscribers. The more “merchandise” they have to offer, the more subscribers who will stick around. So, I’m guessing about one third of the people you will meet are actually ghosts.
AliceWonderland: Is there a more reliable site than this one? I’m very new at this, if you aren’t already able to tell.
HarryM: This is probably the best of the worst.
AliceWonderland: Oh, dear. Maybe this was a really bad idea.
HarryM: Tell me a little about yourself.
AliceWonderland: Well… Where shall I begin? I’ve been widowed for a couple of years, and my friends tell me I need to get out more. Lucy, that’s my best friend, wouldn’t leave me alone until I tried this online dating thing. I’m really not sure it’s for me. It feels very strange.
HarryM: I’m sorry for your loss. I’ve been divorced for about a year, and I have my own version of your Lucy. They can become rather bothersome, like a fly that won’t go away. But you, on the other hand, please don’t fly away just yet.
AliceWonderland: I’ll stay a while longer. You seem sort of normal.
HarryM: Well, thank you for that. I think. LOL
AliceWonderland: I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it to sound like that.
HarryM: Alice, I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to give you one hour without interruption. At exactly 10 PM, I’ll meet you here and we’ll talk. I’m willing to wait a few minutes for you to show up, and if you don’t, I’ll just assume you found someone better to keep you company this evening. I have a feeling, however, that you’ll get a good taste of what this place is like in the meantime. See you at ten o’clock, Alice.
Mackenzie waited and the buzzer on the microwave reminded her of the tea. She retrieved it and returned to the computer, but he had gone silent. She felt the tiniest bit sad at this, as though she’d been abandoned by a date who had gone for movie popcorn and never returned. Oh, don’t be silly, she told herself. It’s not as if any of this is real.
Nevertheless, she sat there and sipped her tea, simmering with disappointment. She decided to look through the gallery a bit on her own. She was careful not to click as she familiarized herself with the navigation of the page before her.
It was a bit like looking for a hidden object while staring down the main drag of Las Vegas. Everywhere she looked, messages were flashing and there were a multitude of invitations to upgrade. On one hand, she felt as though she were pulling the handle on a slot machine, pumping in nickels slowly, but regularly. When her lap full of nickels was empty, she would be no better off; she simply would have no more nickels. She had the distinct impression that she could invest a good deal of time and possibly emotion here, and still be left alone.
On the other hand, she had nothing better to do that evening and her mind was already working, calculating how she could manipulate their system to work on her own behalf. It was a challenge, and one she was up to.
Wriggling in her chair, she set her cup of now lukewarm tea on the desk and clicked back on her own profile. It was obvious this was going to require some alteration. If she was going to play the game, she may as well make the rules work to her own advantage.
How would I explain myself? she asked herself. In thinking about it, she realized it really didn’t matter who she was in the profile. She had no intention of actually dating anyone from an online website.
I’m just going to have a little fun on here. I’m feeling lonely and looking for some verbal companionship, that’s all. I’m not even at the point in my life yet where I’m ready to date. If I were, I surely would be looking for someone online. She decided to have a little bit of fun with this.
Newly widowed, I’m ready to get on with my life. Open to new adventures, travel, novel experiences, and interesting characters. I enjoy museums, craft fairs, all types of music except rap, stimulating conversation, and middle of the night ghost hunts. Think you are my match? Tap me on the shoulder and let’s see.
Mackenzie looked at her words and with a lighthearted spurt of mischief, she pressed the “submit” button. She refreshed her screen and looked at her profile, wondering what the competition might look like in comparison.
Inspired, she headed to her bedroom and threw open the closet doors. She had lost some weight since David’s death, and except for the very modest wardrobe she kept reserved for work, there wasn’t a great deal that fit. She realized then that her work clothes hung directly inside the door. Anything else she owned had been shoved summarily to the back. She made a mental note that she would have to begin shopping a bit now and then.
That’s when she remembered the suitcase. It had been pushed to the darkest, unreachable corner of her closet. When David died, she had canceled the reservations. His birthday had been coming up and as a gift, she had made reservations at a quaint bed-and-breakfast near the race track. David had loved NASCAR, and she had managed to get two pretty decent tickets.
Now, all that remained was the second honeymoon wardrobe she had purchased and stowed in the suitcase. With a deep breath, she pushed shoeboxes and photo albums
aside and reached to grab the handle of the case.
She flung it on her bed, took a deep breath to prepare herself, and snapped the case open. With painful sentimentality, she pressed her nose against the fabric contents, breathing in the air that had been trapped inside. It was air from a day when David was still alive, when the future had been hopeful, and when she had someone who loved her very much in her life. She knew the air was fleeting, but wanted to sniff it one last time before it dissipated.
Her eyes welled with tears and she felt as though she wanted to push the case to the floor and crawl beneath the covers to cry herself to sleep.
Instead, she straightened her backbone and summoned, yet again, motivation from that pool of strength where one must go when you are dealing with loss. It had become a familiar well for her, but it was beginning to dry up. Her hands fingered the clothing inside the suitcase, remembering the care with which she had chosen each piece and when she had intended to wear it. She removed each piece in turn to lay it on the bedspread.
Finally, there it was. She remembered seeing it in the window of a tiny boutique on a back street of town.
It was a robin’s egg blue nightie. Almost Victorian in style, it had a deep V neck framed by flounces of ruffles. The shade of blue complimented her coloring perfectly. The fabric was exceptionally highly woven for sleepwear, giving it the appearance of perhaps being a blouse. The sleeves were long and gathered at the wrist, fastened with cuffs and a fabric covered button.
She remembered cringing at the price tag, but it looked as though it had been made for her. She’d splurged and bought it.
She crossed the room to her makeup vanity, flipping on the lighted mirror to look at herself. She knew she looked like a mess. She badly needed a new hairstyle and resolved to get one the next day.