The Widower's Wife

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Men are fools. Eve probably said it first, within five minutes of meeting Adam. No. Five seconds. Oddly though, it’s the guys who normally never put a foot wrong who drop the deepest into smelly doodoo when they fall.

Could he have? Been that stupefyingly stupid?

I was aaaaalmost sure. He had.

The “he,” my widower, who still had to force himself to look at me, sat eating calmly in his usual place, the head of the family table.

Randy, one of the half orphans, except I couldn’t stop thinking of him as my older son, shoveled food into his mouth with the singleminded devotion of a boy dragged out of Andromeda’s maze just as he was about to find the treasure and rescue the princess, racking up a record score, and was impatient to get back and do so.

Link, the youngest half orphan, munched loudly while staring at the stranger across the table. As I was, more covertly.

The stranger. Could he really be… I just couldn’t believe my supposedly intelligent widower could be that infuriatingly brain dead.

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