A busy accountant.
No
children of his own.
Driving across town every Thursday.
Julian had answered,
“My wife once told me this was the loneliest room she’d ever seen.”
Charlie looked at me.
“He said if even one kid knew somebody would show up every Thursday no matter what, maybe the waiting wouldn’t feel quite so lonely.”
I started crying.
I had forgotten that conversation.
Twelve years ago.
Fourth date.
Italian restaurant.
Julian hadn’t.
Eventually, Charlie checked his watch.
“I need to get my granddaughter from ballet.”
“Charlie, thank you.”
He shook his head.
“Thank your husband.”
Then he climbed into his old silver pickup and drove away.
I stayed on the porch for a long time.
Julian’s phone in one hand.
The little green dinosaur in the other.
The paper crown across my lap.
KING DINOSAUR.
I kept thinking about all those Thursdays.
All those afternoons Julian had driven across town in a
