(2005)
In a sense I got married, after all. I married my old man.
We take trips together, because we like to and also because he doesn't have anyone else to go with. If I didn't go with him he would go by himself, which somehow seems worse than if he didn't go at all. Even though he eats plenty of meals by himself the idea of him eating alone on vacation is almost intolerable.
So we're doing a long weekend at Martha's Vineyard-the island he and Mom always visited-having dinner in a nice restaurant. Our waitress, who is older than me by at least ten years, brings us our drinks and gives me a funny look.
"I hate to do this," she says. "But I know you, right? I mean, I should know who you are?"
I smile and shrug.
"No, I mean...you're someone famous, right?"
"Nope," I laugh. "You've got the wrong guy."
She mistakes my honesty for coyness.
"Come on," she says in a lowered voice. "I should know who you are, shouldn't I?"
"Well, you should know me," I say. "But not because I'm famous, because I'm not."
"Come on..." she starts.
"I'm serious."
My old man makes a face at me after she walks away. "What was that all about?"
"Obviously she thinks I'm someone famous."
"Obviously."
"I hate to disappoint her. If I was famous that would solve both our problems."
The waitress still isn't convinced I'm not an actor or a rock star pulling her chain, so she's extra attentive and flirtatious for the rest of the meal. Professional, but hopeful, it seems, that I'll finally come clean.
Later, as we're finishing our coffee, my father shakes his head.
"What?"
"That waitress is closer to my age," he says, kidding or flattering himself. "Why is she all over you?"
"Because she thinks I'm someone I'm not, unfortunately for her."
"She should be flirting with me."
"Well, maybe she would if you weren't still sporting the hardware."
My father looks at me, looks at his wedding band and picks up his coffee. "You might be right," he says.
Without realizing it, the waitress and the person she was certain she knew have just given my father permission to get on with his life.
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Please Talk about Me When I'm Gone
Non-FictionQuestion: How do you get over it? Answer: You don't. You don't want to. It makes you who you are. Sean Murphy lost his mother days after her fifty-ninth birthday, following a five-year battle with cancer. In this eloquent memoir, he explores his f...