by BWWM Club
All right, so they had chosen a good picture of her. That was fine.
She scrolled down and saw the details they had added. Her age, set to be visible only to her, no years shaved off. That was a little surprising, but then you had to be sixty to sign up to the service and sixty-one was close enough to the lower end.
Curiosity. She’d always had far too much of it.
Rebecca tapped it – the recommended matches.
“Oh.”
There were quite a few people whose requirements matched hers, apparently. Or, at least, the requirements that her Lill and Grace had set up for her. She couldn’t resist scrolling down.
“Oh,” she said, again.
A message!
She had a message from somebody. Could they just do that? Could they just send you messages just like that? Didn’t you have to… to send a friend request, or something of the sort?
Oh that was silly. She had tried to keep up with the times and she was on Facebook and Twitter, and even on Reddit and Tumblr, because her students and people like her students often were. But she had no idea what etiquette was like on dating services.
Another message! Well, that was pushy, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it polite to wait to see if somebody responded before sending a second message?
Well, she had never been one for leaving clutter around, and an unchecked message was clutter. Besides, there was that damnable curiosity.
She opened her inbox.
Fred Swindon.
Well, that was a nice sounding name. She settled her reading glasses a little more firmly on her nose.
Hello, Rebecca! The website has matched us, or so it tells me. What do you think?
She frowned.
Well, what did she think?
You’re very lovely. That’s a beautiful photograph of yours.
That was true enough.
She frowned, staring at her screen. What was she supposed to say?
Hello, Fred. How’re you doing?
There, that was boring but neutral. She could check out his profile and see what he was like while he replied. So she hit send, and quickly checked him out.
A retired architect who looked quite nice and had a garden he had designed himself, his profile read. The algorithm knew what it was doing. If she had been interested, that was exactly the kind of man she might have considered getting to know better.
He’d replied already. Well, he was fast, wasn’t he!
At our age, it seems more sensible to lie about that. Or are you one of the lucky ones who can say you’re doing fine and be telling the truth?
Rebecca chuckled.
I guess I’m not particularly unlucky. I can’t complain much, the worst I have is arthritis, and I just joined a class to help me with that.
He had two children, apparently, and three grandchildren. That was lovely, a big family. Big families were lovely.
A class to help with arthritis? I don’t think I’ve heard of that before.
Rebecca grinned.
I joined a taekwondo class. I know, it seems counter-intuitive, but with a good instructor, it can help. Or so I was told. We’ll find out soon enough, I suppose.
The photos looked nice. He had a very nice smile, lovely caramel complexion, eyes that sparkled with good humor. Of course, photos never told you the whole story.
There was only one way to get to know a person truly, and that was conversation. She didn’t mean to have a conversation, really. She meant to say good night and thank him for his time and interest, but tell him it was not reciprocated.
But Rebecca didn’t do that.
She found herself talking to him, and an hour flew by, to her shock. When she said good night, apologizing, she was no longer so sure of herself.
It had been nice, to talk to somebody new like that.
It had been surprisingly nice. It was something to think about.
Chapter 2
"Annabelle! There you are, my sweetheart. How was art class today?"
"It was great, gramma. Mama said not to eat too much sweets."
"I know, mama always says that, and we decide what's too much, don't we? I think two cookies and a glass of milk will be just fine."
Her granddaughter smiled at her, and all thoughts of loneliness and new connections left Rebecca. Annabelle was her light.
One of the biggest reasons why she'd retired early was so she could be with Annabelle more. It helped Phyllis, too. Of course, Rebecca admired how Phyllis had gone back to work, and it was necessary. But it did make life easier to know that Annabelle would be safe and taken care of whenever she needed to be.
"Mama said she'd come by and help you make dinner," said Annabelle as Rebecca poured the milk into a tall glass and put two cookies - two big cookies - on a plate.
Rebecca loved her kitchen. She wasn't a gifted cook, adequate better described her skills than 'good'. But she did love her kitchen and she loved cooking for people she loved. Roger had been patient through all her experiments and trials. Phyllis had been less so. That was probably the reason behind her little offer to help with dinner. Last Friday, Rebecca had tried her hand at a French sauce that had been a little too fancy for her taste. It had become a bit of a clumpy mess which she'd tried to rescue with her handheld stick blender, and it hadn't worked out too well.
Annabelle had been happy enough with the result - pizza for dinner - but it hadn't made Phyllis very happy. Sometimes it felt as if Phyllis wasn't very happy about much at all.
Rebecca released a low sighed and then turned all her attention to her granddaughter.
"All right, we'll wait for your mama to come and help. But I am making my spiced meatloaf and a salad tonight. I don't think your mama has anything to worry about."
"I like pizza, gramma. I like your cookies, too."
Annabelle grinned at her grandmother, and for a moment, Rebecca saw so much of her Roger in the child that there was a starburst of joy in her heart.
"I know you do. How're you getting along at math? Has long division been conquered?"
"Long division suc... is not nice," Annabelle covered quickly.
"Language, young lady. And long division does not suck. You know that gramma used to teach long division, don't you?"
And it had been the bane of most eight-year-olds. The memories brought a smile to Rebecca's lips.
"Well, Mr. Donaldson doesn't teach it very well, then. I can't understand how you do the carrying over in long division."
Privately, Rebecca agreed with Annabelle's assessment of Mr. Donaldson, but that wasn't something she could very well say out loud.
"Well then, how about if I put the meatloaf in the oven, and we sit together and see if we can figure it out?"
"All right."
The reluctance was palpable. Rebecca grinned.
"And you can show me what you did in art class."
Annabelle brightened up so much when art class was brought up. She had a gift, there was no mistaking that. And so did Rebecca - she had a gift for making math interesting, even long division.
It was probably the best time of her week, even if she tried to keep herself busy with everything. Picking Annabelle up from school and spending the evening with her, experiencing that moment when suddenly numbers made sense and it was no longer so confusing - it was everything she wanted from her retirement and her life.
The dating app and Fred were far from her mind by the time Phyllis came in.
"Well, isn't this nice. That smells great, mom. Spiced meatloaf?"
"Yes, Annabelle said you wanted to help, but you love my spiced meatloaf, too. Baby, why don't you set the table? Let mama have a moment."
Annabelle hugged her mother tight - Phyllis had been just as affectionate at that age - and ran off, thrilled with the responsibility.
"She's getting it now. She will get the hang of it with some more practice," Rebecca explained, as Phyllis checked on her daughter's work.
"I was thinking that maybe she needs a tutor."
<
br /> Rebecca sighed.
"I don't think it's necessary, Phyllis. She's not behind in anything. She just needed a little help with long division. Most children do. You were a bit of a prodigy there. Anyway, you look pretty tired. Why don't you guys sleep here tonight? You don't have to work tomorrow, do you?"
It was only when the words were out of her mouth that Rebecca realized that she really didn't want to be left alone. Being alone at night had started to feel a little... lonely.
She frowned.
"That does sound nice. Annabelle will love it."
"She will, and you can have a night off, too."
Phyllis smiled, and Rebecca was struck again by how lovely her daughter was when she smiled. She didn't smile nearly as often as she used to. A failed marriage could do that. A failed marriage to a man who was nothing but a drain could do far more.
Rebecca knew she had to let her daughter make her own mistakes, but she maybe she should've tried harder to stop that marriage. But what could she have done, really?
Phyllis was strong. She had done well to get out of it, and to make a career for herself. Her daughter had always been gifted, and now she was a scientist. She was so proud.
Family dinners were always full of conversation and laughter. It warmed Rebecca's heart to see Annabelle laugh like that and to see her daughter smile like she meant it.
Tucking Annabelle into bed was another little pleasure she loved having. There were songs and stories, usually about grandpa, and finally, Annabelle settled down to sleep, clutching her favorite hippopotamus that Rebecca worried she might soon outgrow.
Sharing wine with her daughter - it was the kind of simple moment that she knew she would always cherish. Being there for her daughter was important.
Her life was full, Rebecca told herself. Her life was enough.
"Philly, is everything all right? Trevor hasn't..."
"I haven't heard from him in two months. He hasn't seen Annabelle in two months."
"Oh. I'm sorry, baby. Annabelle is lucky she has such a wonderful mother. You're a wonderful mother to her."
"I've made so many mistakes. I sat down to explain long division to her and I almost got angry with her."
"Well, that's why you have support. You have me."
"I know. Thanks, mom."
Rebecca smiled fondly at her daughter. Things could be strained between them, but lately, such moments of unity had become less rare. Maybe that was what prompted the declaration that followed.
"I'm thinking of maybe trying a dating website thing."
"Very funny, mom."
"No, seriously, Philly. Grace and Lillian signed me up on one of those seniors dating sites and, well, they signed me up for a whole year. Now that I'm retired, I was wondering if maybe I should..."
"Mom, dating websites like that are usually scams. They just scrape all your data and use them for marketing and surveillance. Besides, goodness knows what kind of people are on these websites. You have a retirement fund and own a house, and you have a decent portfolio that dad left you. There will be people there who want to take advantage of all that."
"Well, Phyllis, I can take care of myself. And I have pretty good judgment."
"I know you do, mom. But you haven't dated in so long. Who was the last guy you even went out with? Bobby, right, from church? That didn't end well."
"That wasn't right for me, but I don't regret dating Bobby. Besides, I don't see why... Aren't you on dating websites, too?"
"I'm not talking about that, mom."
"You're on, what's it, Tinder, aren't you?"
"Mom, are you on Tinder? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"
Phyllis looked so absolutely horrified that Rebecca was torn between dismay and laughter. Was the idea really that outrageous?
Maybe it was.
"I'm not on Tinder. This is a dating service for people over sixty. It's not free, so only people who really want to meet somebody and make a connection would sign up."
Phyllis rolled her eyes and sighed.
"Come on, mom, you can be so naive at times. It's not going to work out well. Internet dating never works out well. Anyway, why are you even doing this? You never said anything about wanting to date again. You were so in love with dad. Things were perfect between the two of you. You only get true love once in your life, mom. Why would you ruin that memory with something else after that?"
Rebecca shook her head.
"Nothing will ruin my memories with your father, Philly. I haven't done anything yet. I've just been thinking about it."
"Well, think a little longer and a little harder because it's a bad idea. Anyway, I think the whole thing is silly. You're happy. Why would you want to change your life? You have everything you need. I am sorry, mom, but I'm extremely tired so I think I have to crash now. We can talk tomorrow. I'll make breakfast."
Rebecca smiled, wished her daughter good night, and waited until the door closed.
She sat back in her favorite chair and sighed.
So, her daughter thought that the entire idea was quite ridiculous. She supposed she could see why Phyllis would think so. Maybe it was ridiculous. Sixty was supposed to be the new forty, but the good Lord knew she did not feel now like she did twenty years ago. People didn't know what they were talking about. Sixty would always be sixty.
Maybe she didn't need any changes.
She looked around the house she loved, the house she had shared with her husband for ten years before he'd passed away far too soon, and she sighed again.
She hadn't changed much since then. Roger had always loved it in a certain way. They'd put a lot of thought into it. He had done a lot of work on the house. She loved the tall windows he'd put in, the bay windows that led out onto the deck, the window seat with the bookshelves around it, the little nook in the kitchen where the breakfast table nestled. They'd shared so many memories there.
She'd always cherished everything in the home. Roger was still there with her, in many ways. So many of their cherished memories were immortalized, frozen and framed on the walls and on the mantel.
Maybe Phyllis was right.
But since last night, when she had finally given in and open the app the app, something had stirred. It wasn't quite the fact that there was somebody who had found her charming and entertaining enough to chat with her for an hour. It wasn't Fred, personally. It was more about... a new connection. Somebody new, somebody with whom she had no history and no memories.
She'd always think of her memories as precious, but there was something exhilarating about a blank slate. She could be whoever she wanted to be with somebody new. She could be somebody who signed up for taekwondo classes, learned horticulture and figured out what kind of succulents to invest in. She could even be somebody who wanted to go on hot air balloon rides, or someone who swore and cursed!
The stripping away of all the expectations she was used to was alluring. It was scary, but it was also exciting.
And to be honest, she was a little annoyed that her daughter had dismissed the idea so completely. As if it was utterly ludicrous. There was nothing ludicrous about it.
People didn't come with an expiration date for meeting somebody new and making new connections. Maybe she wasn't looking for a... a relationship. But that didn't mean that she couldn't have a few conversations and make a few friends, did it? If it did lead to something else, well...
It wouldn't, of course.
But it was the defiance of the moment that made her take her phone out and follow impulse. She opened that app and she messaged Fred.
She was going to do it.
She was going to ask him if he was free to meet her, and if he was, she was not going to make any excuses to get herself out of it. She would meet him.
The reply came very quickly - a date, for lunch, the next day.
For just a second, Rebecca hesitated. Maybe this was a bad idea, after all. Maybe...
No.
Before she could talk herself out of i
t, she said yes.
A lunch date was set for the next day, with a man who found her charming and interesting, in his own words.
“Well, Phyllis, take that,” thought Rebecca, a little smugly, as she put her phone away. She then finished her wine, rinsed her glass and got ready for bed.
Rebecca took a deep breath and walked in. It was going to be fine, she told herself, and tried to make herself believe the lie.
It was going to be just fine.
It was just lunch.
She was a strong, smart, confident woman. She could handle this. She could handle a date.
So many people handled dates. People went on dates all the time.
Rebecca walked into the cafe and looked around. She wasn't familiar with the place. She hadn't wanted to go somewhere where people would recognize her.
As she looked around, she realized that she did not recognized anybody, and that was a relief. Except that she was about three minutes late and she couldn't see Fred, either. She'd taken a few minutes to look at his photos, and she definitely did not see anybody from those photos there.
Well, maybe he was late, though that was odd, too. He'd told her how much he hated it when people didn't respect his time.
Maybe... It didn't matter. She was shown to a table that offered a view of the room, beside a very leafy fern, and given a menu. She got a glass of water and sipped, leaving the menu beside her.
She didn't plan to have that awkward pause where she knew what she wanted and he had to look through the menu.
Rebecca waited patiently for the first couple of minutes. When you hit your sixties, you learn to be a little more considerate of how people saw time.
After fifteen minutes, she was beginning to get more than a little impatient. When you hit your sixties, you also realized that you didn't have that much time left and you respected that for others, too.