She Writes Love... (4 page)

“Yeah,” I replied.

“They have a spousal support group every Friday night at eight o’clock.”

I looked at him in confusion. “How do you know that?”

“A co-worker of mine mentioned it. He takes his mother. Maybe you should check it out.”

“Nah. Who wants to sit in a room and listen to other people talk about their loved ones? That’s way too depressing. Especially when you’re dealing with your own grief.”

“See, that’s the point. You sit and listen and discover that you’re not alone and that others are going through the same thing. They’re the only ones who understand your pain and grief and they won’t be the ones to tell you to do the things you don’t want to.”

What David said made a lot of sense.

“If anything, just go sit in the back and listen.”

Damian cashed me out and I held out my hand to David. “It was nice to meet you, David.”

“Likewise, Ben. Have a good night.”

I walked out and climbed into my truck. As I pulled out of the parking lot and was stopped at a red light, I looked to my right and saw the medical building David was talking about. A million reasons entered my mind as to why I shouldn’t go, but like he said, I could just sit and listen. I looked at the clock on my dash. It was seven fifty-five. “Ah, what the hell,” I said as I pulled in and parked.

Paisley

T
hank God it was Friday. I stepped into my office at the
LA Times,
and immediately Kenny called me into his.

“Paisley, I need to see you, please.”

“What’s up, Kenny?” I asked as he motioned for me to have a seat.

“Dear Paisley is ranking high on the charts. People like what you have to say because you’re young. You’re giving the older generation something new. I want to expand Dear Paisley.”

“What do you mean ‘expand’?”

“Dear Paisley is about love and relationships, but not sex. We’ve been getting a shitload of questions from readers who want to ask questions about sex, but it doesn’t fit into the column correctly. So here’s what I want to do. I want you to write two columns: Dear Paisley on love and relationships and Dear Paisley; How about sex.” He grinned.

I sat there, cocking my head at him and narrowing my eyes. “I’m not a doctor.”

“You don’t have to be!” He chuckled. “We won’t put any questions through that involve medical issues. This column will be pure fun about sex and the things readers want to know.”

“Again, I’m not a doctor.”

“Paisley, open your mind. Step outside the box. Let sex in! You can do it. Look at what you’ve done for Dear Paisley. I’ll tell you what: let’s try it for a month. If it’s not going well or it’s too much for you, then we’ll cut it out. Come on, Paisley; it’ll be fun!” he said as he got up from his chair and put his arm around me.

“I’ll do it on one condition.”

“What’s your condition?”

“I get to work out of my home more.”

“Okay, but you already pretty much do that.”

I smiled as I left his office.
A sex column,
I thought as I shook my head. This could kill my career.

After I left work, I met Keaton and Charlotte over at The Park, a restaurant on Sunset Blvd., for dinner. Being a Friday night, there was nowhere to park in the parking lot or on the street, so I had to park in the medical building lot and walk. It was a last-minute thing and I really didn’t want to go but I knew if I didn’t, I’d hear about it tomorrow, since I was going to be at my parents’ house for Halloween.

“Hey, sis,” Keaton said as I sat down next to him in the booth.

Charlotte glared at me as she sipped her water. “I called you two days ago and you didn’t call me back.”

“I know and I’m sorry. I had to work extra hard on my column to meet the deadline because I wasn’t feeling well a few days ago.”

“You weren’t feeling well because you’re depressed, sis,” she replied. “Depression makes you sick.”

“I’m not depressed,” I said as I shook my head. “I may still be sad, but I’m not depressed.”

“You’re depressed,” they both said in unison.

I rolled my eyes and changed the subject as fast as I could. “Kenny called me into his office today and told me that they are expanding Dear Paisley. Apparently, I’m going to talk about sex now.”

“Ew, I’m not reading that,” Keaton said.

“That’s wonderful, Paisley. So now you’ll have two columns?”

“Yes. One for love and relationships and the other for strictly sex. I’m not too sure it’s going to work out.”

“You’ll be fine and you’ll do great,” Charlotte said as she grabbed my hand from across the table.

When we were finished eating, I asked Keaton to drive me to my car.

“Where did you park?”

“The medical center.”

He drove me to my car and looked at his watch. “It’s seven forty-five. That support group starts in fifteen minutes. I think you should go. You’re already here.”

“Goodbye. Keaton.” I smiled as I closed the door and climbed into my car.

He drove off and I sat there, clutching the steering wheel and looking at the medical building.
Maybe if I go one time, I can say I did and he’ll back the hell off
. I grabbed my purse and with uncertainty, I walked inside.

The sign said the meeting was in room L2. Once I found my way, I nervously took a seat in the fourth row of chairs. There were only eleven men and women in the room and all of them had to be over fifty. I felt out of place and uncomfortable and debated whether or not to leave. I did step in the room, and I sat down in the chair, so I could say that I was there, right? An older lady walked in and looked at me.

“Are you in the right room, dear? This is for people who have lost their spouses.”

I simply smiled and nodded my head. “Yes, I’m in the right room.”

She leaned over and placed her hand on mine. “I’m so sorry, dear.” And then she walked away and took a seat next to another older lady.
Okay, I’m outta here,
I thought as I grabbed my purse. When I went to get up, a younger man sat down in my row, one seat over. He looked at me and I looked at him. We gave each other a small smile and the counselor stood at the podium and began to speak. Shit. I couldn’t walk out now.

“Good evening, everyone. I see we have two new people in our group today. My name is Jessica Roth and I’m here to help you deal with your loss and grief. In fact, we’re all here to help. Everybody in this room has something in common. You’ve lost a spouse. This group is here to provide you with a safe forum where you can share your feelings and your pain. Each and every one of you in this room has had the same experience and has gone through the same emotions. Let’s begin by welcoming our two new survivors to the group.

“The woman in the back row.” She smiled. “Can you please come up and introduce yourself.”

“Who, me?” I pointed at myself.

“It’s okay. We’re all here for you.”

“No, no. It’s fine. I’m just here to observe.”

“Nonsense,” she said as she walked towards me and pulled me from my seat.

I looked over at the hot young guy sitting one chair down from me and he had a terrified look on his face. I stood up at the podium and clutched the sides tightly.

“Why don’t you tell us your name and how long you’ve been widowed,” Jessica said.

I gulped as I gave a small wave. “Hi. My name is Paisley Logan and it’s been almost a year since my husband passed,” I said with a tear in my eye.

Keep it together. Keep it together. Keep it together.

“How long were you married? You look awful young,” an older woman asked.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I’m going to kill Keaton and his bright ideas.

“My husband passed away on our one-year wedding anniversary. He died of a massive heart attack while we were out jogging together.” There. They wanted to know, so I just let it out.

I heard gasps. “Welcome, Paisley,” Jessica said with sympathy as she put her arm around me.

“Welcome, Paisley,” everyone in the room followed.

I walked back to my seat. The hot guy sitting one chair down from me wouldn’t stop staring. He was young. I would say maybe a year or two older than me. Jessica called him up and he tried to say no. I looked over at him.

“If I had to do it, then so do you. Good luck.” I smiled.

He smiled back as he got up from his seat and went up to the podium.

“My name is Ben Preston and my wife and I had been married for five years before cancer took her away from me almost a year ago.”

Again, I heard gasps and I saw people shaking their heads. Everyone welcomed him to the group and he went back to his seat. As soon as he sat down, we both looked at each other.

“I’m sorry about your husband,” he said nervously.

“I’m sorry about your wife,” I replied.

I couldn’t help but to sneak little glances at Ben. He was about two inches over six feet with a muscular build. He had to work out; there was no doubt about it, looking at his well-defined arms. He wore his light brown hair short on the sides with just a little bit of a spikey wave on top. His eyes were what caught my attention the minute he looked over at me; they were the color of the Pacific Ocean and they were absolutely beautiful. But the one thing that made him stand out was the fact that he also lost someone at such a young age.

As I sat in my chair and listened to the men and women talk one at a time about their losses, their grief, and their inability to cope at times, I couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit of comfort for the first time since he died. Jessica continued to talk and then ended the meeting by asking us to partner up with the person sitting next to us and talk.

“I want everyone to look at the person sitting next to you and that will be your support partner for the week. Go have coffee. Talk. Share. I promise you’ll feel better.”

I looked over and Ben was staring at me. “I guess that means we’re partners,” he said.

Suddenly, I became very nervous. My heartbeat picked up a rapid pace and I started to sweat. What did he mean “we’re partners”? I wasn’t about to be partners with anyone, especially him.

“Sorry, but I didn’t—”

“Come here to be partnered up with anyone. Me neither. Judging by where you’re sitting, you came here out of curiosity. You wanted to sit in the back and with the hopes that no one would notice you. You wanted to see for yourself if other people who have experienced what you have, felt the same emotions that you do and are distraught like you are. You wanted to maybe, just maybe for a moment, feel like you’re not alone.”

I stared into his eyes as he sat there and spoke. It was as if he read my mind. I gave him a small smile. A smile that didn’t indicate anything in particular. Just a smile to acknowledge that I was listening.

“Me too,” he said as he got up from his seat. “It was nice to meet you, Paisley. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” He walked out of the room.

Ben

W
ow. I didn’t expect that. I didn’t expect to have to stand in front of a group of people and discuss my personal life and I didn’t expect to meet someone around my age that had suffered the same loss. I didn’t know how I felt. Would I go back? Probably not. As I climbed into my truck, I saw Paisley walk across the dark parking lot. The street lights that worked were dim, but half of them weren’t lit up. Before I pulled out, I waited to make sure she got into her car safely.

When I pulled up the driveway to my home, my phone rang. It was Finn.

“Hey, Finn. What’s up?”

“I’m on my way over.”

“What? I thought you and Olivia were at a wine tasting event.”

“We were. I mean, I was. She’s still there. I told her you called and were really down and needed to talk. So if she ever brings it up, you were.”

“Bro, I hate when you use me as an excuse.”

“I know, Ben, and I’m sorry. I really need to talk to you.”

“Fine. I just got home.”

“I know. I’m walking in now.”

I turned around and Finn walked through the door. Shaking my head, I asked him how long he’d been here.

“Just a few minutes, actually,” he replied. “Where were you?”

I pulled two beers from the fridge and handed him a bottle. “I just went and grabbed something to eat.” I wasn’t about to tell him that I sat for the last hour in a support group for widowers.

“Where’s the food?” he asked.

“I ate it on the way home. It was just a burger. Now stop with the questions and tell me why you left your girlfriend at a wine tasting party to come over here.”

We both took a seat at the table. “I’m really nervous about proposing to Olivia. I mean legit scared. What if I fuck it up? I want this to be perfect. What if she says no?”

“First of all, she isn’t going to say no. Olivia loves you. Second of all, it’s normal to be nervous. I was very nervous when I proposed to Amy.”

“Really? Because I remember you being all cool and calm when you talked about it.”

“I’m good at hiding things.” I smiled. “Don’t overthink it, Finn. It should be natural. Where were you thinking about proposing?”

“I was going to do it at her apartment when I picked her up for dinner. I’m going to buy a big bouquet of roses and have the ring box sitting in between the flowers, so when I give them to her, she’ll see the box and then I’d ask her to marry me.”

“That’s very romantic. She’ll love it.”

“You think?”

“I know. Now stop being a pussy and get a grip.” I smiled.

“Hey, I want you to know that I feel really bad for talking about this with you. Considering...”

“Don’t feel bad. It’s your time to be happy and to create a magical life and future with Olivia. I’m okay, Finn. You and the parents need to stop worrying about me.”

“Like you said before, you’re good at hiding things.”

I gave him a small smile as I got up from the table. “Go back to Olivia. Tell her I’m fine and I told you to go back.”

“Thanks, bro,” Finn said as he hugged me.

“No problem. Go on; get out of here.”

Finn left and I grabbed the remote and sat down on the couch. A few minutes later, I received a text message from Brady.

“Dude, Linda and I just had the best sex ever!”