For a year, I searched for May in the crowds and along the city’s walkways. My eyes sought her out in the early morning or late evening during all manner of weather. I only met May once, on a warm afternoon in early June. The times I’d fantasized about meeting her again were countless. Something about her convinced me she had dropped her guard with me in a moment of spontaneous connection.

After a few months, I occasionally left a scribbled message along the walkway: “May, remember me? Clark.” More and more frequently, I’d return to the messages, hoping I’d see a sign.

Months passed without an answer. I questioned whether she might have told a white lie by omission; an implied untruth allowed me to believe she lived nearby. Maybe she didn’t visit this part of town. Every detail of our encounter plagued me.
…

A year ago, I walked fast along a portion of the city’s most unfamiliar walkways. A long, aimless walk was the only thing that might distract me. After several miles, I stopped to sit on a wooden bench near the edge of one of the city parks. Looking for a song on my phone, I sat without paying attention to who might pass by.

“Hey, I hope you don’t mind if I sit here.” I looked up to see an older woman wearing headphones. She pulled them from her ears and wrapped them around her neck. She wore denim shorts and a loose-fitting white T-shirt. I’m not sure how old she was. I’d guess she was five years older than me. Her long black hair fell loosely around her shoulders.

“Sure. Just taking a break,” I told her.

The woman sat on the bench. Taking her phone out, she fiddled with something onscreen and leaned back against the bench.

“Me too. I walked too far today. The apartment was too quiet. I could almost hear the shadows, if you know what I mean.”

I looked briefly to my right as the woman spoke. The way she phrased her motivation sparked interest.

“I do. That’s a good way to put it.”

The woman smiled. “I just retired six months ago. Too early, according to some.”

“Congratulations,” I told her.

“Thank you. I thought I’d retire and be happy with my husband.”

The way her voice changed slightly as she ended her comment told me that her husband had other plans.

“Oh? I’m sorry. Did something happen?” When the words came out, I realized how intrusive they might be. I quickly added, “I didn’t mean to pry.”

The woman laughed. “If you can’t disclose your secrets to a stranger on a bench, who can you trust?”

I smiled, thankful that she diffused my awkwardness.

“We planned our retirement early. To enjoy life. It turns out he wanted to enjoy his with someone else.” The woman looked up at the trees on the other side of the walkway.

I don’t know why I blurted it out. “After years of being lonely with my girlfriend, I left her. Now, at least, I’m lonely for real.”

The woman turned and looked deeply into my eyes. “I’m May. I’m sorry about your girlfriend.”

“And I’m sorry about your husband, May.” I found myself not looking away from May’s green eyes. The wrinkles around her eyes and mouth looked earned – probably from happier years of laughing and living.

May shrugged. “I’m stuck in a holding pattern, trying to figure out what’s supposed to be next.”

I nodded. “I agree with that sentiment.”

We fell silent momentarily as a young woman walking two large dogs passed by. We both waved at the woman simultaneously. She waved back and smiled at us, probably thinking we were together.

I realized I hadn’t introduced myself. “I’m Clark, by the way.”

“That name suits you,” May answered. “Rumpelstiltskin might have worked, though.”

I laughed. “Too much writing.”

May smiled back at me. She looked away quickly and then immediately back to me.

To my surprise, May reached for my right hand with her left. Her fingers were warm as they wrapped around mine. I didn’t pull away from her touch. May stared at me as if she wanted to say something.

I’ve often thought about what I did next, but no good explanation comes to mind. I moved my fingers from hers and held my right arm up above the back of the bench. May understood my intentions.

She stood slightly and moved to sit beside me, her leg against mine. May leaned her head against my shoulder. I wrapped my arm around her and squeezed her right arm. Had I known May, it would have been the most natural thing in the world to do.

May sighed. I felt her body relax into mine.

“Clark, you feel so good. I haven’t been held in such a very long time.”

“Likewise, May. Can we sit here for a month and just hold each other? Pretend we’ve been together forever?”

May nodded against my shoulder. Her left arm pushed behind me and around me. She squeezed my ribs with her fingers. I rubbed her arm like I’d done it a thousand times.

We sat for several minutes, unmoving, each of us lost in our thoughts.

May began to speak in a low voice. “I had been married for thirty-three years. The first twenty-five were amazing. And then they weren’t. My daughter, April, moved to Australia, and my husband seemingly had to work all the time. I knew something had fundamentally changed, even though I couldn’t quite identify what. We planned our retirement, to see the world, and to enjoy life. And then he was gone.”

I squeezed May against me. Her right hand moved to rest on my chest and rubbed. Whether it was subconscious or deliberate, I wasn’t sure. But I did recognize that it was something that she probably did when she felt safe.

I spoke without worrying about how I might sound. “I spent years trying to feel valued, much less touched with passion. One morning, something snapped. I realized that being alone might be better than being scared of being alone. There is no doubt about it: I need to be with someone to be happy. But that someone has to reciprocate.”

“Of course,” May whispered.

We once again fell silent. The birds and nature sounds filled the gaps as we softly touched one another.

Five minutes later, we heard a dog barking as it ran down the walkway. As it approached, May raised her head to look. She sat up quickly.

“I think that’s Bert, my neighbor’s dog. Susan will be out of her mind.”

Feeling disoriented, I sat up as May stood. May turned to me as the dog scampered past, trailing its leash.

“I have to catch up to it. Bert is too old to go looking for her dog. I’ll see you later, Clark, if you’d like?”

I nodded. “Yes, I’d like nothing better.”

Before I could tell her where I lived, May smiled at me, turned, and walked away fast. I watched her grow smaller in the distance, heading away from me.

It wasn’t until she was out of sight that I realized I should have accompanied her if only to be near her. I still felt May’s body leaning against mine.

That was the last time I saw her.

…

As the months passed, I felt messages on the walkways. I looked not only for May, but also for a Labrador with a long green leash. Nothing.

The one benefit to the chance encounter was that I walked miles each day, learning the city’s secret and hidden paths. No one knew that I searched for May. Thinking of holding her again occupied my thoughts. As unrealistic as my fantasy might be, I hoped she might want to be held again.

Last Saturday morning, as I approached the bench I shared with May, I bent to leave another message—the same one I always left.

A voice interrupted me. “Are you leaving notes for May Smith?”

I looked up, still bent down. A woman wearing a tracksuit and absurdly white shoes stared down at me.

I stood up. “I’m not sure. I don’t know her last name.”

The woman gave me a look of suspicion. “It seems odd that you don’t know her last name if you leave odd notes on the concrete.”

I shrugged. “You’re not wrong. I can’t explain it. We met about a year ago.”

“Does she have long black hair? Green eyes? She’s sixty-six years old.” The woman seemed hesitant. Her curiosity got the best of her.

I nodded, smiling. “You know her? Sixty-six? She doesn’t look like it. I’ve been looking for her for a year.”

“Yes, that’s her. I’m not telling you anything unless you can give me some context. There are too many weirdos in the world.” The woman gave me a look as if to indicate that I probably was one of those weirdos.

I felt like another person took control of my voice as I answered. “Her husband left her. All I can tell you is that we sat on the bench over there and held each other for what felt like a month. I think we had a connection. Her neighbor’s dog Bert ran by. She left too quickly before I could find out who she was.”

The woman listened intently. Finally, she shrugged. “What the hell? Why not? That’s her. You seem genuine. I’ll give you her address. But I will need to see your license if you’re one of those quietly crazy people.”

I pulled my wallet from my back pocket and opened it for the woman to inspect. She carefully looked it over.

“I hope you find her and what you’re looking for, Clark.”

I typed May’s address into my phone as the woman recited it.

“Thank you so much!” I felt the excitement in my chest.

“Good luck to you both. I wish my husband were so interested,” she said as she walked away.

I stood for at least a minute, arguing with myself about walking to find May immediately.

…

Thirty-five minutes later, I turned at the corner of Williams and Jones. The street was lined with nice two-story townhouses. May’s unit had to be somewhere along the street. I walked faster as my eyes scanned the numbers on the front of each building.

Up ahead, I saw a woman opening her mailbox. As she reached inside, I felt a twinge of anticipation. I knew it had to be May. Her long black hair covered her neck. She turned to walk back toward her townhouse.

Even though I was at least thirty feet away, I almost shouted. “May, is that you?”

The woman froze. When she turned, I saw the recognition in her eyes.

I didn’t know anything about her. She might be with someone now or not remember the encounter as magical or laden with potential. The “what ifs” almost stopped me, but the hope of the “what ifs” drowned out my worries.

“Clark!” May excitedly answered.

We locked eyes as I stopped in front of her. As I struggled to speak, May took away the need. She opened her arms despite the mail clutched in her right hand.

I moved in to hug her. May’s arms wrapped around me and squeezed.

“I’ve been looking for you for a year, May,” I told her, melting against her.

“I’ve wondered about you every day, Clark.”

“You have?” I almost lost my voice as the emotion of a year of searching welled up.

We wrapped our arms around each other more tightly. May’s face pressed against my shoulder. Once again, I felt like we had known each other forever.

Finally, May stepped back. Her eyes held mine.

“What are we doing?” May smiled.

“Getting to know each other. We can’t hug forever, you know.”

“I don’t see why not. I’d love to get to know you, Clark.”

I gulped. “I’d love that.”

May continued to smile. “Then come inside, and let’s start the dance of getting to know everything about one another.”

I followed May into her townhouse and into another life.

Love, X
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