eople were so nice; just so darned nice. She hated that.

The double doors of the Winn-Dixie slid open as Grace approached. She looped the handle of her purse over her left arm and grabbed a shopping cart. In her right hand was a list and she hurried up and down the aisles, filling the cart. Boxes and jars in the basket, eggs and tomatoes and bread in the kiddie seat where they wouldn't get crushed, heavy plastic bottles of detergent or soda on the bottom rack.

"How you doing, Miz Long?" Robert asked as he ran the items over the scanner. Grace smiled tightly, handed him her store card and ran her credit card through the machine. Robert loaded the groceries into plastic bags and put them in her cart. Sweetener, decaffeinated tea, skinless chicken breasts, bouillon. She signed the credit slip and put her cards back into her purse. Robert patted her arm.

"You take care now, Grace."

She nodded and hurried out of the store. At the drug store, Cornelia asked after her health and said how they all missed her at Ladies' Guild. As Grace left, she heard Cornelia murmur to the other clerk, "Bless her heart."

When she stopped to get gas for the car, Bud Kelley offered to check her oil. "Anything you need," he said, "you let me know. I'd be proud to advise you on anything for the car. Your husband was a fine man."

At the bank, Jerry Abernathy hurried out of his office and asked how she was in that gentle voice everyone else had been using.

When she pulled into her driveway, she saw that her neighbor had carried the emptied trash cans back up to the house.

She waved at him, pulled the car into the garage and turned off the engine. As the automatic garage door shut behind her, she began to bang on the steering wheel. "Damn it," she sobbed. "Damn, damn, damn."

She almost made it to the Ladies' Guild meeting. At the last moment, thoughts of their tender solicitude made her blood run cold and she drove past the church and onto the highway. Her hands started to shake on the steering wheel and she briefly had visions of fiery wrecks and wailing ambulances. There was a restaurant up ahead and she pulled into the parking lot, breathing hard as if she'd been running.

There wasn't much of a crowd inside. The waitress asked her if she wanted a table for one.

Not one. No. She sure as hell didn’t want a table for one but that's what she was going to have now. For a long time. Forever.

"I'll just sit at the bar," she said.

Apparently it is believed by the powers that be that women don't care to watch TV. Not in a restaurant or bar, anyway. She could see three different TV's from her vantage point and all were showing sports. Basketball on one, skiing on another and wrestling on the third. She ordered a Bailey's on the rocks. It had been her favorite drink in another life.

"How can people watch this stuff?" The gruff voice broke her reverie.

Two seats down, a middle-aged man, nursing a beer, flipped his hand toward the wrestling show. She looked to see what he was talking about. On screen, a heavily-muscled man with long blonde hair was being thrown around by another man with the build and approximate wardrobe of a sumo wrestler. Two women in black leather (very little of it) were cheering them on.

"It's so obviously faked, I don't see the appeal," the man at the bar said, this time turning slightly toward her.

Grace sucked on an ice cube. The sweet coating of Bailey's made her feel pleasantly relaxed. "Maybe that's what they like about it," she said. "They know what to expect. It's comforting, knowing what to expect." She ordered another drink.

"Comforting? Look at that crowd. They don't want comfort, they want excitement. Geez, some of those people, this is probably as good as it gets for them." He picked up his beer and moved to the stool next to hers. "I'm Sid." He held out a beefy paw.

Don't talk to strangers. The thought flashed through her mind, and then Grace laid her own white hand in his. "Nice to meet you, Sid."

The bartender brought her drink and Sid laid his hand on top of hers as she went to open her purse. "It's on me," he said.

They watched the wrestlers as they moved into phase two of the event. Now the blonde man was in the ascendancy, following the tossing of the smaller bimbo out of the ring and the use of a folding chair on the head of Sumo guy. Sid told Grace about his business, selling office equipment to dentists, and his life on the road, and his divorce five years ago. Grace told Sid about her dentist and his trio of blonde assistants, her trip to San Antonio five years ago, and nothing about her husband.

The sweet, almost chocolatey taste of the liquor clung to the bottom of the glass and the sides of the ice cubes. Graced chased the last drops with her tongue, knowing Sid was watching, not caring that he was watching. She ordered another drink.

"I'm buying, this time," she said.

The wrestlers were now yelling at each other, red-faced, playing the crowd. The referee was picked up and thrown out of the ring and the leather twins got back into the act. Grace and Sid watched admiringly as the two women catapulted themselves off the ropes and flew through the air in a lovely pas de deux, knocking both Blondie and Sumo guy on their keisters.

"You go, girls," Grace shouted. She accidentally put her elbow on the edge of a bowl and peanuts flew through the air. "Oh, no! Aeronautic peanuts!" She giggled and Sid grinned as he gathered the scattered nuts. "Do you suppose they enjoyed that?" she laughed, leaning into Sid's shoulder. "Maybe that was the high point of their lives!" She rested a hand on his thigh. "Maybe they never knew they could have so much fun."

Sid smiled as he eased her back into her seat. His hand was warm on her arm. His knee pressed against hers. "It would be a shame, " he said, his lips close to her ear, "for anyone to go through life not knowing what fun they might have had."

Grace ordered another drink. The bartender frowned. "You have a ride home, Ma'm?" he asked.

"I can see that she gets home," Sid said. "Give her the drink."

"Give me the drink," Grace said. "I'm fine."

"Well," the bartender said, his hands still braced on the edge of the bar, "you want to be careful now."

"I am careful," Grace said. She sat up very straight. "I'm always careful. I've been careful my whole damned life." She turned to Sid. "I have, you know. I wear my seatbelt and count calories and check the batteries on my smoke alarms twice a year. I've always been very careful. But you know what?" She leaned over to him, bracing one hand on his arm. "Bad things happen anyway." Grace sat up again, suddenly deflated. "I'm going home," she said, looping her purse over her arm. Her knees seemed confused as she stood, not knowing how to straighten, and then locking into place suddenly enough that she staggered. So ridiculous, she thought, I look like a fool.

With vast dignity, she put on her coat. Sid watched, his eyes silent. "It was very nice to meet you," she said. "It was lovely. I have to go home now. My husband is dead."

She made the long, horrible walk to the exit, feeling that everyone in the place was watching. The door of her car opened after only two tries and she dropped into the seat, staring dully at the steering wheel. After a few minutes, she remembered to close the car door and put her key into the ignition. It was dark out now. She could see the blue-black sky like an inverted bowl over the town. There was no moon tonight, and no clouds. Just the pinpoint stars and the yellow sign over the restaurant. Grace slid her fingers along the sides of the steering wheel to the top and rested her head on them. Maybe she would just sleep here.

A knock on the side window made her jump. Sid stood there. Grace turned on the engine and pushed the button that lowered the window. "I'm sorry," she said. "You must have thought. . ."

"No problem," he said. "I'm used to bombing out." He squatted a bit, bringing his face in line with hers. "You okay, Grace?"

Cold air invaded the car, bringing head-ringing clarity. She pulled on her driving gloves, smoothing the leather down between each finger, one by one. She sighed, looking straight ahead for a moment, then turning to Sid. "Yes," she said. "I'm fine. My life is over, but I'm fine."

Sid reached out and brushed her hair back from her cheek. "Your life isn't over. It feels that way, I know. It felt that way when my wife left me. I thought I'd never give a damn about anything ever again. But after a while, things got easier, they got better. You'll do just fine."

He stood up and shoved his hands in his pockets. "You okay to drive?"

Grace nodded. "Thanks, Sid. It was real nice. You take care."

"You, too, Grace."

She backed out of the parking space. He still stood there, his hair blowing slightly in the cold breeze. Grace waved and drove off.