What am I, sixteen? I'm mooncalfing over some woman, seventeen years younger than me, after knowing her just a couple of months, and I'm acting like I want to carry her books home for her.
(Do kids still DO that?)
Dougie loves her to pieces-but then, she's always bringing him stuff, meatballs from Pinelli's, that sorta thing, but she brings me stuff, too....she smiles at me, and calls me "Wish" in this voice that's like Karen Carpenter by way of Crystal Gayle.
She sat next to me in church yesterday, and Pastor Mike could've stood up there and done the Stock Market reports in High Vulcan, and I never would've noticed. Her hand kept lightly touching mine, and I kept forgetting to breathe....
I thought I was too old for this, too....WIDOWERED for this; Linda was my great love, and when she died, I had no plans to look elsewhere. After the grieving period, I never really felt alone....or so I thought.
Susan owns a piece of me, a piece I never even knew was missing.
Y' wanna hear funny? I think Linda's up There, checking this out....and smiling.
Tony keeps talking about "the goofy grin on your face", and his missus giggles every time she sees me.
My place seems empty when she's not here-she hasn't spent the night, or anything like that, we play by the Rules-but she's visited here, and we've been out to dinner, walked in the park a few times, and went to church.
I don't want to screw this up, because I've got something I haven't had in a long time, not since Linda; I think I'm in love.