Tom Canaday took a potted geranium to Lola’s house. Except for the time ten years ago or so that he did a little remodel work for her on the house, he hadn’t been there. He’d been aware of the place, though. It sat on the high part of town and Lola had lived in it with her kids since the boys were babies. They were still pretty young when she divorced and she stayed on.
From the talks they’d had in the diner or when he went to Home Depot where she also worked, he knew that she’d done many of the repairs and upgrades in the house herself. In fact, one of the reasons she loved working at Home Depot was her love of remodeling. The employee discount came in handy. Every time he’d driven by he admired the look of the place as only a man who’d done most of the building and remodeling of his own could.
It was Sunday afternoon, his kids had all scattered and knew they had to be home by five for dinner. He hadn’t mentioned to Lola that he’d be dropping by and he expected either no one would be home or everyone would be and he’d be interrupting family time, two teenage boys bouncing off the walls.
His hands trembled. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done something like this. Never, he thought. Never, because he’d married Becky when he was just a kid and had never in his adult life courted a woman. He rang the bell, but all was silent inside. He waited, but there was no sound, no movement.
Just as well. He put the potted plant on the table between two wicker chairs on the porch and headed down the steps. There was no card or anything. Sometime next week he’d tell her he was the one who left it.
“Tom?”
He jumped in surprise. Lola came around the corner of the house. She wore rolled-up jeans, an oversize man’s shirt with the sleeves rolled up, sneakers and gardening gloves. Her dark hair was pulled back and covered with a straw hat.
“You scared me!” he said.
“Did you ring the bell?”
He nodded. “I brought you a plant,” he said.
“You did? Why?”
He shrugged, feeling kind of dumb. “There were a couple of them on sale at the garden store so I got one for myself and one for you. I should’ve called. But, I... Ah, I can’t stay anyway.”
“Of course you can stay,” she said, coming up on the porch. “This is lovely, thank you. And perfect. I love geraniums.” She pulled off her gloves. “Let’s have a glass of lemonade, shall we?”
“Aren’t you busy?”
“Not really. The boys are fishing with my dad and won’t be home till sunset. I was in the garden—I have some nice vegetables coming in. I’ll go in and get us some drinks. Is the porch okay? The weather’s so nice, I hate to waste it inside.”
“The porch is great,” he said. And then he breathed a giant sigh of relief, which she caught because she laughed.
“I’ll be right back,” she said.
He waited patiently. He felt like a thirteen-year-old boy when all he wanted in the world was for once in his life to be a little slick with a lady. And so he laughed to himself—who was he kidding? He’d never been like that. In fact, he didn’t really want to be. He sure hadn’t bought a red geranium in an attempt to sweep Lola off her feet.
“It might not be as sweet as you like it,” she said as she was coming out the door with a tray and something under her arm. She held the tray with two glasses and a plate in one hand and with the other, snapped open a small serving table. She put it in front of them, set down the tray and took the chair opposite him. “You really have good timing—I was about ready for a break.” She handed him a glass. “I think this is the first time you’ve been to my house.”
“I did some work in the kitchen for you about ten years ago or so,” he said.
“That’s right, now I remember. That was a long time ago,” she said with a laugh. She took a drink from her glass. “This is a nice surprise. Thank you for the plant.”
“I should’ve called,” he said again.
“Why’d you come over?” she asked. “I mean, this has never happened before.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Wait, I don’t know why I said that. I do know why. We always have nice conversations when I stop at Home Depot or the diner for coffee, but it’s always busy. Half the time we can’t finish a sentence because someone needs you for something. Or else someone else wants to be in the conversation. And I started thinking, maybe I should really take you out to a movie, but then we wouldn’t get to talk, either. I thought it would be nice to have a conversation sometime without you being at work.” He sipped the lemonade. “This is good. Um, we’re both divorced. I know a lot of women and then again, not very many.”
“Now that makes very little sense,” she said.
“I don’t have any real close friends, that’s all. When I think about who I’m comfortable with, the people who come to mind are Sully, Maggie, Cal, a few of the guys around town. And you. I’ve been divorced a long time now.”
“But, really?” she asked. “Really divorced? Because from what little I know, you and Becky were together regularly...”
“That was my mistake,” he said.
She waited.
“I was treating it like a time-out when it was not a time-out—it was a divorce. I would be so far ahead if I’d treated it like one.”
“That’s a little vague.”
“Sorry. I didn’t realize there were other men in her life. I was naive. I wish I’d known and I wish I’d moved on a long time ago.”
“What do you want, Tom?” she asked.
He looked at her. He realized he loved looking at her. “Oh God, Lola, I don’t want anything! I mean, I have no expectations, I don’t. But we’re a lot alike. We’re single, we’ve been working at least two jobs, raising our kids on our own, no spouses, no significant others. I mean, you never said...”
“I’ve dated, but—”
“We both get help from our parents sometimes. And I have a brother who’s always there for me and you have a sister, but... I don’t want anything,” he said again. “I just know I feel comfortable with you and it’s nice to have a woman friend. Maggie’s a friend but we don’t ever have long conversations or anything, we don’t talk about our lives. You and I—we talk about our lives. Our families, our folks, our kids, how aggravating it can be sometimes when there’s no other parent in the house to back us up. We talk about this carpool nonsense, getting the kids everywhere they have to go. I don’t have anyone else in my life like you. It’s...it’s comfortable. I finally broke away from that dead marriage and realized you’re the only person of the opposite sex I enjoy spending time with.”
“That’s very nice, Tom, but I’ve worked very hard to have an independent life, the kind I actually like. I’m not interested in dating. I don’t want a boyfriend. I get along just fine without a lover.”
That made him smile. “That’s good. I don’t think I’m a candidate for any of those jobs. Could we just be friends?”
“We’ve been friends for years!”
“I know! Don’t you think it’s a little weird the only time we ever talk is when you’re at work?”
“It’s where I am!”