That evening Diane and I talked at the end of my till. It was just petty small talk, and nothing of consequence. Consciously, I suppressed the urge to ask her if she was married. She didn’t wear a ring, and other folks called her Ms. Pritchard, so I assumed she wasn’t. Yet at her age and with her figure I found it hard to believe she was single. Regardless, I was being foolish in even thinking that any romantic encounter with her was a possibility- she was far older than me and far out of my league in the looks department. Still, I had caught her examining me, and it seemed that she was truly interested. She certainly enjoyed talking with me, and actively sought me out. Maybe she was attracted to me?

      It didn’t matter. I needed to be professional, and she was twice my age, and likely married or at least seeing someone. While I had no problem entertaining myself with dirty thoughts in my head, the fact was she was certainly off limits in real life.

      As we closed down, I thought more about Diane. I couldn’t get my mind off of her. I handed my cashbox in at the end of the night, clocked out, and headed home.

      After driving a ways, I remembered I was out of shaving cream and shampoo. I spied the local Target and decided to make a quick stop. Maybe I would get a pizza or something for dinner as well.

       I worked my way through the store, grabbing all the items I needed. As I made my way up to the registers, I overheard a woman’s voice that I recognized. I moved in to investigate and discovered it was Diane, and she was talking to someone on her cell as she was checking out.

      I slid into a register next to her, careful so that she would avoid seeing me. I didn’t feel like running into my boss outside of work. Besides, I had homework to do and I didn’t want to be kept from that for too long. And, at the same time, I could eavesdrop on her conversation. The cashier rang my items up.

      Being that I was right next to her, I couldn’t help but overhear her phone conversation. Diane was apparently speaking with a close friend of hers. I caught a few snippets of the one sided conversation that intrigued me.

     “Oh well it’s been very hard for me. The house is always very alone.”

      “No, I’m sure. Certainly. Yep, it was 16 years ago. You got it.”

      “Well, I’m doing fine Joanne. You know I really appreciate you remembering. It’s so nice of you to think of me.”

      “No, I’m not seeing anyone. It’s hard, you know. I’ve got a few men I’m interested in, but I’m not sure. I don’t know if I can move on yet.”

      “You’re right, I should. Yeah.”

 
     It was tough to make out exactly what she was talking about, but from what I could gather, Diane had suffered a great loss. Basically, a friend of hers had called her on the anniversary of her fiancé’s death, and encouraged her to date again.

      I felt horrible. I had no idea Diane had been a widow for 16 years. It was no wonder she always talked to me- she was lonely and all by herself. I wanted to do something for her, as a friend.

      She hung up and grabbed her bags, heading outside to leave. I finished paying and shadowed her close behind, careful to leave a low profile. As soon as she exited the store she cut quickly to the right and collapsed on a bench, distraught.

       I sat on a bench nearby, and waited as she cried herself out. Clearly, she was still dealing with her loss, and I felt compelled to help her. In fact, in my gut I knew I was probably one who could. In a weird sort of way, her loneliness reminded me of my own loneliness.

      I waited until she got a hold of herself. I knew what I needed to do. Like some kind of Casanova, I swooped in to her “rescue.”

      “Hey there Diane.”  I felt oddly natural. Whenever I talked with younger women, I always felt this feeling of uneasiness that stemmed from my innate awkwardness. However, at this particular moment the right words came to me easily. It was uncanny because there was no way I should feel normal in this situation, but I really didn’t care anymore.

      She had her face buried in her hands, and she hadn’t noticed me. “Wha…? Who’s there?” she asked as she sniffled.

      “It’s me, Joe. From work.”

      “Oh.” She tried to cover herself, turning away. “I’m sorry you had to see me like this Joe.”

      I threw my arm around her. “It’s ok Diane. I can tell you’re pretty broke up. Why don’t you tell me about it? I bet you’ll feel better.”

      She initially refused, stating that it was no big deal. After some coaxing, I managed to open her up. She admitted that it was the anniversary of when her fiancé had died, 16 years ago. I listened carefully. She told me that her friend had called, and she was happy that someone had thought of her today. I did my best to comfort her, and we made small talk. In no time at all I had turned her thoughts to other things and had got her thinking of the future and all she had ahead of her.

      Her mood had improved drastically. I enjoyed talking with her, and listening to what she had to say. We really hit it off, but before long it was time to head home. 

      Eventually, I escorted Diane back to her car, which was across the parking lot. Diane sniveled softly as we walked, then seemed to gain her composure back. I’m sure the fresh air felt good. The night was young, and the air was crisp and refreshing.

      She gestured to her car, pointing it out and we walked up along side of it. I felt horrible for her. Here she was, a sweet wonderful lady with no one in her life. I realized that she had obviously never fully recovered from her loss. She was really attractive, so I told her she shouldn’t have had any issues finding men. She took the compliment well, and seemed to perk up.

      Our encounter reached an awkward point as I wondered what to do at her car. In a moment she would be off and the next time I would see her would be at work. This would really be an uncomfortable way to end our conversation. I knew what I needed to do.

      As she turned to open the door on her car, I put my hand on her shoulder.
 “Hey, Diane. I wouldn’t mind keeping you company for a while longer, if that’s ok with you. The night’s still pretty young, and I would hate to see you go home alone like this.”

      She moved in for a hug, her teary eyes beaming as she grasped me in a tight embrace.

     “Oh thank you! I would love that. You’re such a sweetheart, Joe.” I couldn’t help but feel her heavy breasts pressing into me. I knew I was being turned on, but I was determined to make this about her. I set myself straight- I wouldn’t allow my “second head” to dictate my actions tonight.

      “Joe, I have a wonderful idea,” she suddenly suggested, breaking our hug but still grasping me by my elbows, “why don’t you come with me to my place, I’ll make you something to eat! It’s been so long since I’ve had anyone to cook for! Please Joe?”

      “I can do that.” I didn’t really have anything going on.

      She giggled like a schoolgirl, and unlocked the doors to her car. “Go ahead, get in!”