Second Chances?

[Authors note: I realize this is seriously not my best work, and honestly, I debated posting it at all, but the writing prompts are all about inspiration, right? Well, this is the story that prompt inspired, so... It is what it is😏]

I pour my coffee slowly, watching the long stream of liquid trickle into my mug with an air of somber aloofness. As if I'm not the one doing it, as if I'm watching my domestic actions unfold before me and can't do a thing about it.

But you know what? I'm ok with that.

My children are the only things that keep me from slipping into oblivion entirely. They need me. They can't process the loss of their father any more than I can.

It was... So fast.

Remembering Nate should bring tears to my eyes. Should make me feel... something.

But I'm numb. I feel like I died with him when I received that phone call, and all that's left now is a motley shell of the woman I was.

My kids don't deserve this. They don't deserve a mother who will drown in her grief and become... Negligent.

The word sends a shudder through me. Negligent. The one thing I never thought I'd be. The one thing I daily try to avoid becoming.

I shake my head, trying to clear such thoughts as I savor the first sip of the strong brew in my hand.

The black bitterness sends a jolt right through me. Just the way I like it.

I move to the sofa and sit down, curling my knees up to my chest as I tuck myself into the corner of the cushions, staring blankly at my mug.

I purse my lips and take another sip, the rich flavor grounding me now, somewhat.

My eyes wander to the picture frame on the small end table beside me. The smiling faces of myself and my family look back at me, displaying a joy that hurts to witness. I remember that day. Nate and I had taken the kids to the beach, teaching them how to find agates and seashells. They'd been so much younger then. Little Ethan only five, and Molly still a toddler.

I sigh, turning the frame upside down, obscuring the picture of happiness. It didn't fit into our new bleak world.

I close my eyes and take another sip of my coffee.

The sound of our doorbell suddenly interrupts my reverie.

I stand and stiffly walk to the door, dreading having to deal with another sympathetic church person. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for all they've done for us, but... I need some space.

I open the door, the perfect "Yes, I'm fine, no I don't need anything, yes please be praying, yes please leave." speech already rehearsing itself in my mind.

But the words die on my tongue when I see who's standing before me.

A man, his back to me, looking across the street. His black shirt fits attractively across his broad shoulders, and his hands are shoved in his jeans pockets, as if contemplating all the world's problems. The breeze tussles his combed black hair, and when he turns... The chocolate-colored eyes that meet mine are all too familiar.

"Truman." My voice is barely above a whisper, and I feel myself paling.

His brown face cracks into that tentative grin I once knew so well.

"Hey Alana. Long time no see." His tone is gentle, hesitant.

When I finally get over my shock, I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly with a frown.

"What are you doing here?" My tone is far more defensive than I'd intended.

He cringes a little.

"I heard about... About Nate. I wanted to wish you my sincere condolences." He pauses. "May I come in?"

I stare at him for a long moment before stepping out of the way.

"Sure."

He inclines his head to me respectfully and makes his way inside, gaze roaming over the cozy surroundings.

"You've done well for yourself." He remarks, moving to the fridge, gazing at all the pictures put on it.

"I suppose so."

He turns to look at me.

"Your kids are... beautiful."

My expression turns guarded.

"Thank you."

"And your husband. He seems like he was a good man."

My heart twists at his words.

"He was." I whisper.

Truman continues staring at me intensely.

"He... made you happy, yes?"

I frown.

"Of course he did. I was the happiest I've ever been until that semi ended it all."

Something flickers across his expression. Relief, maybe? A twinge of jealousy?

I give an exasperated huff.

"Why are you here, Truman? To rub it in?"

He actually flinches, taking a half step closer and then stopping, as if deciding against something.

"No. No, of course not, Alana." He lets out a breath, running a hand through his hair, something he always did when agitated or nervous. "Look... I..."

"What? Spit it out."

He looks pained, and I almost regret my harshness. Almost.

"I suppose... I came to offer myself to you. As an option. As a help. I know your church must be taking awesome care of you. You always did speak of the people there in such... glowing terms." He smiles ruefully. "But... I feel a certain responsibility towards you. To make sure you're well. If you need anything, anything at all, you... You let me know, alright?"

My expression hardens. I don't want to trust this. I can't.

"How could you do anything for me? You live on the other side of the country. You can't do anything from New York."

He shakes his head sadly. "I don't live there anymore. I live here now. Just twenty minutes away."

I gasp.

He notes my surprise with grim satisfaction.

"And now you're wondering why. Well… the truth is, I finally listened to you, Lanie." I flinch inwardly at his use of my old nickname. "Shortly after you broke up with me... I went on a search. A quest, you could call it. To find out what it was about your faith that could cause you to give up a chance at... at real love, such as the kind I felt for you. To find out why you were willing to leave me, even though I knew you cared about me, to follow your God." He gave a self-deprecating chuckle. "It took years for me to find out just how misguided I was.

"After a few years of digging, learning, and educating myself on the Christian faith, I prepared what I thought was a compelling case against Christ as savior. I thought I had it all figured out. But then... Then I had to get a new roommate. And I knew the moment I saw him that he was one of you." He shakes his head with a small smile. "He wouldn't relent. We debated the fundamental issues of theology day in and day out. Eventually... things happened, and... I was forced to look for answers. Real answers. For myself. Outside my own way of thinking. I started reading the Bible not to disprove it, but to learn from it. And it changed me."

He looks me in the eye, sincerity shining through him.

"I'm a Christian now too, Lanie. And I am no longer welcome in my old social circles, so... I moved here."

I remain completely still, processing the gravity of this revelation. When I do speak, my voice is small, much more timid than I'd like.

"But why here? Why now?"

He purses his lips.

"Well... When I first converted, my first order of business was tracking you down. And I did so. But by the time I found you... You and Nate were already engaged. You seemed happy. Who was I to intrude upon that?" His voice is tinged with sadness. "So, I moved here to Sacramento, accepting a position at a tech company here. Following your life, seeing your family grow, I was content to simply... Be here. Watching out for you. I hope that doesn't sound too cringy or stalkerish."

I don't respond immediately. This is all so much to process.

"But why reveal yourself now? You couldn't even have the decency to wait a month? He died merely last week, Truman."

"I know." His words are a whisper. "But still... I wanted you to know that... I'm here. Should you need anything. Sink breaks, driveway needs sanded in winter, you need a door removed when your kids get into the rowdy teen years." His mouth tips wryly at that last option. "Anything. Truly."

I frown, staring at him long and hard.

Eventually, I sigh. This was a turn of events I'd never before dared to hope for.

“Thank you for the offer, Tru, really. I have plenty of people available to me, but should I… Need you, then… I will let you know.”

He nods politely.

“That’s… more than I expected, to be perfectly honest. I really thought you’d just show me the door, and that would be that.” He chuckles awkwardly before sobering his expression. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

I hesitate. God, I better not be making the same mistake twice.

“Me too.” I respond quietly, my words hardly more than a whisper.

But... despite all my fears, all my concerns... in this moment, I feel what might be the start of something… Good. Something... Right, if such a thing could ever exist around Truman.

Perhaps one day… We could eventually be the friends we could never be before.

But still, small doubts rear their ugly heads in the back of my mind, telling me that I've been down this road before.

I choose to ignore them.

Whether this is the best decision of my life, or the worst, only time will tell.