Neither of us spoke for the rest of the memorial presentation.
We simply sat there with our hands together on the white tablecloth while photographs changed on the screen and names were spoken into the quiet room.
Two people who had been tricked into a blind date had somehow ended up sharing the one thing neither of us had intended to discuss.
When the ceremony finished, everyone stood.
Chairs scraped against the ballroom floor.
Conversations slowly restarted.
Couples put on coats.
Foundation volunteers thanked people for coming.
Cara released my hand and looked almost embarrassed.
“Sorry.
I didn’t mean to grab you.”
“You don’t have to apologize.”
We walked into the lobby together.
The Boston Harbor Hotel was decorated for December, warm lights reflecting off polished stone while people clustered near the doors waiting for coats and cars.
For several seconds, Cara and I stood beside each other without knowing what the correct ending to the night was supposed to be.
A normal blind date came with rules.
You say you had a good time.
Maybe exchange numbers.
Maybe make an excuse.
Maybe promise to call and never do.
This had not been a normal blind date.
Finally Cara looked at me.
“For the record, I’m still angry at my boss.”
I laughed quietly.
“Good.
I’m still angry at my captain.”
“They had no right to do this.”
“No.”
She pulled her coat tighter around herself.
“But I’m also…”
She stopped.
“What?”
“Glad I came.”
That answer scared me more than I wanted to admit.
Because I was glad too.
For two years, I had built my life around avoiding moments exactly like this.
I knew how to miss Jennifer.
Missing her had become familiar.
Predictable.
Almost structured.
But enjoying an evening with someone else felt dangerous.
It felt like opening a door I had kept locked because I was afraid walking through it might mean closing another one behind me.
Cara seemed to understand without me saying any of that.
“We don’t have to make this into something,” she said.
I looked at her.
“Our bosses already did enough deciding for us.”
That made me smile.
“Agreed.”
She hesitated.
“But there’s a coffee shop around the corner.”
“Right now?”
“I’m an ER nurse.
Coffee after dinner is practically a medical condition.”
I laughed again.
“One coffee.”
“One coffee.”
