We sat next to each other on the couch, each with our shoes off and our feet up on the coffee table, while we sipped what was left of our wine and watched Robert Redford and Meryl Streep fall in love. I made it as far as the safari scene where Robert Redford washes Meryl Streep’s hair before I started bawling.
Alex didn’t ask me why I was crying. He was smart enough to figure that out on his own. He just put his arm around my shoulder and left it there while I cried. Eventually, the moment passed, as they always did, and I wiped my eyes. “Sorry about that,” I said, and reached for a tissue to blow my nose.
“It’s okay,” Alex replied.
“You can turn it back on.” Alex had paused the movie when I started crying. I would’ve un-paused it myself, but the remote was sitting next to him on the other side of the couch.
“We can watch something else if you want.”
“No, let’s finish,” I said and a few more tears trickled out. “You have to see how it ends.”
But instead of un-pausing the movie, Alex left the remote where it was and turned to me. He placed both his hands on my face and wiped away my tears with his thumbs.
I froze. I knew what was going to happen next.
Bad idea, Grace. Really, really bad idea.
But it feels so good. Doesn’t that matter?
Eating a hot fudge sundae for dinner feels good too. But then you feel sick afterwards. This is a mistake.
Dr. Rubenstein wouldn’t say it’s a mistake. She’d say it’s perfectly fine for two consenting adults to watch a romantic movie together and then for one of said consenting adults to break down in tears because she missed her dead husband and the other consenting adult to wipe away her tears and kiss her, which Alex hadn’t done yet, but I knew he was going to.
Then you and Dr. Rubenstein can agree to disagree because you KNOW this is a bad idea.
I did know. But when Alex leaned in and kissed me, I kissed him back.
And that’s not all I did.