For almost 20 years, he was there. School plays. My graduation. Teaching me to drive. Lecturing me about checking my tire pressure before road trips. Making my mom laugh so hard she snorted.
Fast-forward to now. I have my own apartment, a marketing job, and a best friend named Tessa.
Tessa and I met in college. She’s loud, messy, and chaotic in a way that somehow works with my organized, anxious energy. She was with me during bad breakups and finals. I helped her study and remember deadlines.
My mom loves her.
“Tell Tessa to come over for dinner,” Mom says all the time. “I miss her face.”
Tessa calls my mom “Mom.” She teases Mark. He calls her “kiddo” and acts like an extra uncle.
She is also nearly 15 years younger than he is. I never thought that mattered.
Then came last Thursday.
Work sucked. I stayed late, and by the time I left the office, I was drained. There’s a nice restaurant a few blocks away I go to sometimes when I want a real meal and a glass of wine.
I decided to treat myself.
The hostess sat me at a booth toward the middle of the room. I shrugged off my coat, checked my phone, and started looking at the menu.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone who looked familiar.
In the corner near the window, half hidden by a tall plant, sat Mark.
I smiled a little at first. Weird coincidence. Maybe he was out with a client or grabbing dinner before heading home.
Then I saw the woman across from him.
Red dress. Long brown hair. Laughing, with her hand on his.
It took my brain a full second to catch up with my eyes.
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