Autumn 2020  arrived with cool temperatures, warm colors, and typical New England character. Unfortunately, people could not go out and enjoy the changing leaves or hike the Connecticut trails, as large crowds were discouraged from gathering due to the virulence of Covid-19. Restaurants closed, and many people lost their jobs. Coronavirus was spreading out of control, and some states weren’t allowing outsiders to cross the borders into their territory without consequence.

Initially, all of the restrictions came as a relief to me. Even if Reed wanted to visit, I assumed he couldn’t fly to Connecticut from Colorado without the two-week quarantine requirement. I thought I had it all figured out.

 And then the phone rang. The caller ID spelled out his name.

“Hey Darlin’,” he said with his almost-Western twang. “I’m packed and ready to go.” 

 My stomach lurched. I felt scared. 

“There’s a pandemic going on,” I insisted. “States aren’t letting residents of other states in without a mandatory quarantine.”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head over that,” drawled Reed. “Colorado isn’t on that list.”

I didn’t believe him, so I checked—more thoroughly this time. He was right. So far, Colorado did not have a high number of infected people. Reed would not have a problem coming to Connecticut.

“What about her?” I asked.

“I told you I took care of Cathy,” he responded.

“What did you do?” I asked. “Kill her?”

He laughed out loud– a real belly laugh–coughing and sputtering before he stopped.  “No, I didn’t kill her, although there were times I wish I had,” he said. “I bought her a car, found her a place to live, and rented a storage unit for her stuff until she finds a job and her own place. I lived with her for fifteen years. I owe her that much.”

I was processing all of this new information as it came along. The situation was absurd, and part of me—more than half– didn’t want to meet Reed. But then there was that leftover fraction of my senses that asked why not?  How many men were willing to spend the money to fly to Connecticut to meet me? And as weird as all this was, that aspect was flattering.

“So, are we okay?” he asked. I didn’t respond. “Are you still there?”

“Yes, I’m here,” I replied.  I remained quiet as he read off his flight itinerary. I remember thinking to myself that he shouldn’t be visiting. But there was an argument going on in my brain between sense and curiosity. Curiosity was winning. 

As Forrest Gump’s mother said, “Stupid is as stupid does.” 

I agreed to meet Reed at Bradley International Airport.  I asked if he thought he’d recognize me from the Senior Singles website.

“Don’t worry,” he assured me. “I’ll find you.”

And find me he did. It was a beautiful afternoon the day Reed flew in. I waited for him in the arrivals area at Bradley International, just outside of security. I had the dating site with his photograph open on my phone to help me recognize him. I scrutinized every man’s face that walked by, comparing it to the one on my screen.  I didn’t see one that came even close. I wondered if he’d missed the flight.  Probably for the best, I thought.

I was looking down at my phone screen when I heard a voice.

“Mimi—is that you?”  

Afraid to lift my head, I raised my eyes just above the level where I held my phone. There was an enormous pair of brown, cracked leather, scuffed orthopedic shoes facing me. I was expecting cowboy boots. I knew that there was a person filling those shoes, and I wasn’t excited about looking up to see the rest of the package. But raise my head, I did.  I tried to smile, but the shock must have shown on my face.  There he was–the man with the Nazi haircut. I should have believed Cathy. I thought she was trying to prevent me from meeting Reed. He wasn’t wearing the wife-beater tee-shirt, and he wasn’t wearing baggy basketball shorts nor holding a garden hose.  But he, indeed, looked nine months pregnant.  

He read me like a book. “Do you want me to turn around and go home?” he asked. His jowly face looked worried. 

Although I wanted to say yes, I said no. I’m not outwardly mean to people, although what goes on inside my head is another story. I told him to follow me to my car. I was in shock, and it was all I could do to keep my wits about me.

Throughout the entire walk to the parking lot, I kept thinking—and he’s going to be here for a whole week. 

© Miriam Greenberg, and the blog Love In The Time Of Corona, beginning April 2022 to the Present. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Miriam Greenberg and Love In The Time Of Corona with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.