older and presumably retired. She nibbled on her popcorn and all at once her throat went dry. The entire world seemed to be made up of people in love. She envied the other women in the audience their long-lasting relationships, their forever loves, which was what she and Gary should have had. She wanted another chance. She was attractive, well-off, a nice person—and alone. Falling in love again was first on her list of wishes. But she didn’t want another relationship unless she could find a man like Gary and there didn’t seem to be many of those.
Until the other widows had started talking about those stupid wishes, Barbie’s life had seemed to be trudging along satisfactorily enough. Her mother’s list was nearly complete. Not Barbie’s. She’d written down a few things besides falling in love. She wanted to learn how to belly dance. She and Gary had seen a belly dance performance during a brief stopover in Cairo years before and she’d been intrigued by the sensuous,feminine movements. She’d listed something else, too. She wanted to go snorkeling in Hawaii and shopping in Paris and sightseeing in London—all of which she’d done with Gary and enjoyed. But she didn’t want to do them alone.
At the moment, her desire to fall in love again seemed an illusion beyond her grasp. But she wasn’t exactly looking for a relationship. If she truly wanted to love and be loved, she had to be receptive to love, open to it, willing to risk the pain of loss.
She shook her head, telling herself there was no point in believing that a man might one day love her the way Gary had. Love her . Not her money, not her beauty. Her.
All of a sudden tears welled in her eyes and she dashed them angrily away. She didn’t have a thing to cry about. Not a single, solitary thing. Dozens of women, hundreds of them, would envy her life. She had no money problems, her children were responsible adults, and at forty she didn’t look a day over thirty. The tears made no sense whatsoever, and yet there was no denying them.
Reaching for her purse, Barbie pulled out a pack of tissues, grabbed one and loudly blew her nose.
The previews for upcoming features were still flashing across the screen. They were apparently comedies because the audience found the clips amusing. Sporadic laughter broke out around her.
Sniffling and dabbing her eyes, she noticed a man in a wheelchair approaching the row. He was staring at her, which wasn’t uncommon. Men liked to look at her. Only it wasn’t appreciation or approval she saw in his gaze. Instead, he seemed to be regarding her with irritation.
Maneuvering his chair into the empty space beside Barbie, he turned to glare at her. “In case you weren’taware of it, you’re sitting in the row reserved for people with wheelchairs and their companions.”
“Oh.” Barbie hadn’t realized that, although now he’d mentioned it, she saw the row was clearly marked.
“You’ll need to leave.” His words lacked any hint of friendliness.
He must have someone with him and wanted the seat for that person. No wonder he frowned at her as if she’d trespassed on his personal property.
Retrieving her large purse, she draped it over her shoulder, grabbed her popcorn and soft drink and stood. Instead of walking all the way through the empty row, she tried to get past him.
In an effort to give her the necessary room, he started to roll back his wheelchair and somehow caught the hem of her pants. Barbie stumbled and in the process of righting herself, dumped the entire contents of her soft drink in his lap.
The man gasped at the shock as the soda drenched his pants and ice cubes slid to the floor.
“Oh, I am so sorry.” Barbie plunged her hand in her purse for the tissue packet and managed to spill her popcorn on him as well.
“I…I couldn’t be sorrier,” she muttered, more embarrassed than she’d ever felt before.
“Would you kindly just leave .”
“I—”
He pointed in the direction he
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