Page 22 of Counting the Days

A buried yearning to weep surfaced in Rhea—something about the compassion in his eyes, deep pools of brown, flickering in the light of the fire he’d built for her. However, she had not cried about her mother in months and was not going to start now. She imagined a friend asking Danny how the date went; “She sobbed about her dead mom” wasnotgoing to be his response. To ward off the weeping, she kept her eyes locked on her sizzling stick of processed meat.

“What was your mom like? Are you okay talking about her?” he asked softly.

This impelled Rhea to look up at Danny. She had to make sure there was an actual human body sitting next to her and not just some figment of her overactive imagination. She had told the story of being orphaned as a teenager on many dates, though typically not first dates—she tried to wait until at least date number four—but she had never experienced this level of empathy.

None of her suitors, even her long-term boyfriends, hadeverasked what her mother was like. One of the hardest parts of losing her mother was knowing she would never really get a chance to talk about her again. And she wanted to talk about her, just like everyone else got to talk about their mom. She wanted to complain about her or brag about her, or even just say her name.

Usually, when Rhea dropped the “I’m an orphan” bomb, her date would say, “I’m sorry for your loss,” then quickly change the subject…if she was lucky.

Some reactions were very odd, like the guy who did not say a word, just made an exaggerated sad face, puffing out his bottom lip like a pouting baby; held the face for an uncomfortable length of time; then changed the subject.

Another date said, “Man, that’s tough. But I get it, my grandfather died when I was in middle school, and it was so hard.”

He proceeded to talk about his beloved one-hundred-year-old peepaw for ten minutes, never once circling back to Rhea’s mother. Rhea was amused by his comparing the grief of losing someone who died naturally after arguably too long a life with the grief of losing someone who was her sole provider of love, food, and shelter.

She had a rather fond memory of a Topanga surfer with a sun-addled brain saying, “Aw man, thatsuuuuuucks. Well, I hope your childhood was high vibes otherwise.”

She tried not to judge her dates for failing to nail the perfect reaction to her tragedy. She knew death was a squirmy subject. Most people her age did not have an abundance of experience with loss; therefore, they did not know what a person in mourning might want to hear. She studied Danny as he looked at her with his unfathomable eyes, waiting for her to tell him about her dead mom.Who is this guy?

“Oh, um, yeah, I’m totally okay talking about her. Sarah was her name, and she was amazing…and terrible, you know. She was the best person in the whole world and also, like, the meanest person ever. She never went to therapy or anything, but I’ve thought about it a lot and I think she was bipolar. One of my less traumatizing memories that perfectly explains her personality: In, like, fifth grade, we were at the grocery store…and sometimes she would get hit with these manic urges to spend money. She’d say, ‘Get whatever you want, sis!’ She called me ‘sis’ ’cause she was only seventeen years older than me and thought we were more like sisters.”

“Wow.”

“Yep…so I picked out one of those big bouncy balls from the ball bin and we bounced it around as we shopped; sometimes she could be so fun.” Rhea smiled at the memory, and Danny did too.

“But I accidentally hit a Wonder Bread display and bread flew everywhere—so people were staring at us and she just stormed outside…and drove away.”

“Wait, she left you there?”

“Yeah, I had to walk home.”

Danny was silent for a second, and Rhea wondered if maybe one of her “less traumatizing” memories was still too traumatizing to share on a first date.

Danny broke the silence with earnest eye contact and said, “I’m so sorry that happened. I cannot imagine how scary that must’ve been.”

How was he easier to open up to than all of her many therapists? She wanted to tell him about the time Sarah gave their dog away because Rhea wasn’t taking care of it. But she reminded herself she was not paying him by the hour and instead asked, “Are your parents still alive?”

“Oh, yeah, they live in Long Beach.”

“Then how are you so comfortable talking about death? Very few people have asked me what my mom was like.”

“Oh, well…I was close with my mom’s mom, and when she died…I was pretty weirded out by the way people talked to me at her funeral.”

“No one knew what to say.”

“Exactly. They were so awkward, and I never wanted to be like that, so I, uh, read some books about grieving so I could, you know, just talk about it easier.”

“That’s so…huh, you’re really interesting, Danny.” She stopped herself from adding,I think I’m in love with you.

He took potato buns out of a paper bag and handed one to Rhea. They ate their crispy hot dogs while watching the last surfer catch their last wave. Rhea almost moaned at every bite. She had eaten grilled, boiled, and pan-fried hot dogs, but they didn’t come close to this. The hot dog tasted like childhood, a childhood she had not experienced, but nevertheless, there was a sense of nostalgia in every bite.

As the air grew cooler, she wrapped her wool coat tight around her body and relented; Danny was a genius for telling her to bundle up. He pulled a box of graham crackers and a chocolate bar out of the bag and held out a marshmallow for Rhea to skewer. She kept her composure, but her inner child was squealing with delight. Adult Rhea provided her inner child with a safe home, a stable job, and gorgeous clothes, but it turned out, all Little Rhea wanted was s’mores.

Rhea ate four s’mores before she remembered she was on a date. Somewhere along the way, she’d learned that for the first few dates, women were supposed to pretend they did not actually require nourishment, but she was two hot dogs and four s’mores too late. Besides, Danny seemed to consider it apersonal victory each time Rhea added more mustard to her hot dog or pulled another marshmallow out of the bag.

“I like camping,” Rhea said as Danny poured more wine into her mug.

“You’re good at it.”