We were having dinner when the love of my life told me she was going to die. I almost choked on my pizza.

�I'm not sick,� Nicole Benson quickly added. �But I've been getting eerie feelings that I won't see my twenty-second birthday.�

�It's just stress,� I assured. �End-of-semester burnout. Everybody I know at San Jose State has it. It does funny things to your head.�

�I wish it was that simple,� she said.

�Geez, you're tons of fun, tonight. We have a great pizza, and for dessert you announce your upcoming departure to the Great Beyond.�

�You obviously don't believe me,� she snapped.

�C'mon, Honey, lighten up. It's just a feeling. Feelings come and go. Don't get weird on me right before you go back East to see your folks for Christmas. I ain't gonna see you for six whole weeks, and I'm gonna miss you.� I imitated the whimpering of a lonely puppy, and reached out for her hand.

She pulled away. �You're not taking me seriously, Edward Walsh!�

People at the next table looked our way.

�What do you want me to do? Keep my dark suit handy? Call Park Hill Mortuary to see what's on sale? Maybe they have a two-fer. A coffin fer you and an urn fer me.� I chuckled, thinking I was being funny. She let out a sharp cry and ran sobbing to the ladies room.

Three weeks later, the plane carrying Nicole from San Francisco to Philadelphia, crashed. The evening news showed wreckage scattered across snow-covered mountains. No survivors. Some bodies were found, but not Nicole's.

I collapsed from shock. For weeks, an impenetrable fog enveloped my whole being. My heart was so smashed, I didn't know how it kept beating.

I wasn't invited to the funeral. Nicole's parents didn't even know I existed. She was supposed to tell them about me and our wedding plans when she got back home.

A lawyer called, inviting me to his office, �To discuss the will of the late Nicole Victoria Benson.� He hinted I'd be happy when we met. Happy? I shook my head in disgust. I'd never be happy again--my life had been destroyed together with Nicole's.

Nicole loved me in life and in death by leaving me her Mustang convertible and making me sole beneficiary of a $500,000 life insurance policy. The lawyer suggested investments that would earn about $30,000 interest per year. I'd just become an affluent, twenty-three year old, but felt terribly impoverished without Nicole.

I couldn't get back into the groove of life. Everything seemed colorless and meaningless. I dropped out of college and wandered aimlessly, trying to shake grief and depression.

While driving through a Southwestern desert, I came across a monastery. Intrigued, I entered the massive gates to look around. The atmosphere of tranquility and serenity was magnetic.

The good fathers accepted me as an overnight guest. I ended up staying for two years, never once venturing outside the protective walls. The monks taught me how to prepare meals for fifty men, and listened sympathetically whenever I needed to pour my heart out. Gradually, I found the strength to reenter the mainstream of life.

I left the monastery and headed for Nicole's hometown, near Philadelphia. I figured a visit to her gravesite would help seal the past and help me move forward. I'd put flowers on her grave, say a few words, and move on. Maybe I'd also go to her dad's car lot for a quick glimpse of the wealthy and powerful man who would've been my father-in-law.

Upon my arrival at her hometown, I checked into a motel and found a coffee shop.

The heavy, October rainfall made me gloomy. The feeling increased when I realized Nicole's grave was nearby. I dropped my head into my hands, dreading tomorrow's visit to the cemetery.

�Coffee?�

I didn't even look up. �Yeah.�

�Anything else? We got a special on meatloaf today. Big meal. Small price.�

�No thanks. Just coffee.�

�Gonna pass up our world famous meatloaf, eh?�

My head was still cupped in my hands.

�Want some aspirins for that headache?�

An unexpected touch of kindness.

I looked up at Nurse Waitress. Compact, brunette, attractive. Sad looking blue eyes. My age, maybe more. Her nametag announced �Ronnie,� surrounded by yellow happy faces.

�Thanks, but I don't have a headache,�

�Thought I'd ask. You were rubbing your head. I figured you had a bad one. Actually, You look very pale,� she said.

I forced a smile. �Maybe this weather's getting to me. I ain't used to rain and chilly air.�

�Not used to rain? Where are you from?�

�Mars.�

�Another Martian,� she sighed. �You're the third today. So, what do they call you up there on the Red Planet?�

�Ed.�

�Wuh, weird name.� She repeated it several times as if it were a new and exotic word, difficult to memorize.

�I'm Ronnie,� she bubbled, pointing to her nametag.

A bell rang. Ronnie turned and sped off.

I sipped the coffee and thought about Nicole's fate for the millionth time.

Ronnie came by and poured a refill. �You have more color,� she said. �Must be our coffee. It has medicinal properties. Comes from the rain forests of Philadelphia. Hand picked by topless, vestal virgins.�

I laughed for the first time in ages at the bizarre idea of a jungle in Philadelphia. But, the mental image of topless women plucking coffee beans evoked more than humor.

�Why Ed, you're blushing. But now you have some color. You might feel better if you ate something.�

She had a point. I hadn't eaten all day.

�Is the meatloaf really good?�

�Hey, they come in chartered busses for our meatloaf.�

�If I eat some and collapse, do you promise to call 911?�

�Of course. I'll even be the donor for your stomach transplant.� She smiled broadly, scribbled my order, and ran off. She moved with the speed and grace of a lioness.

I was starting to feel better. Perhaps the caffeine was partly responsible. Perhaps Ronnie's pleasant disposition and comical quips were also helping.

The meal was far better than expected.

�How about some steak sauce on your next pass, Ronnie?�

�Hey, it's not me who's supposed to make the next pass. It's your turn.� She smiled impishly and headed for the kitchen.

Her word play nagged at my loneliness. Is she hinting she wants to know me better? She's kidding around so much, I ain't sure. Maybe I should ignore her playfulness. If I assume too much I might end up scorched by rejection.

She was back in a flash. �Here's you're sauce. Did you miss me?�

�Nope. Never missed a single person in my life,� I fibbed, as I scooped the last bit of mashed potatoes.

�Well, I ain't a single person. See this wedding band?� She held her hand up to flash a small, crested high school ring. �It's 50 carat gold. The diamonds are even more than that.�

�Gold only goes up to 24 carats,� I said.

�This gold's different. It's from Transylvania. Uncle Drac willed it to me before they drove a stake through his heart.� Then she added softly, �What about you Ed--are you wed?�

�Never been married.� I don't know why I added, �Almost, though.� I thought about the last night I saw Nicole. I proposed right before she boarded the plane, and she accepted.

�Almost? Well, almost doesn't count. I almost won a thousand dollars on the slots in Atlantic City. I almost got hit by a car. I almost didn't get pregnant.�

That startled me. Almost didn't get pregnant? It sounds absurd. It's like saying she got herself semi-pregnant, or kind-of-pregnant, or slightly pregnant. Does she mean she's pregnant now, or does she mean a past pregnancy? She said she isn't married. Maybe she has a baby and is raising it by herself. So many women are doing that. I wonder what happened to the father? Her comment about me making the next pass means nothing. It's just waitress talk. Silly word play. Maybe her way to fish for tips. Well why not? Babies need diapers. Baby food ain't cheap.

I decided to increase the tip, just in case she really had a child. I knew how tough it was to wait in a restaurant, and raise a child on low pay and tips. My mom had done it.

�Did you decide on dessert?� she asked.

�Bring chocolate ice cream with gobs of chocolate syrup.�

�That's a lot of chocolate. Tsk-tsk. Know what they say about guys who crave chocolate?�

�Nope.�

�It's a substitute for other things. Things missing in their lives. Know what I mean?� She gave a sensual glance that gave me butterflies.

�Make it vanilla with strawberry topping.�

�You better have chocolate to take the edge off that thing missing in your life.�

I agreed, and she left with the ever-present coffee pot in tow.

Is she just kidding, or does she sense that my existence is loveless? Is my yen for chocolate really a poor substitute for love?

Ronnie was like a big spoonful of good medicine. She was easy to talk to, a good sport, and I could have plenty of laughs just being around her. I hadn't enjoyed such funny, lighthearted chatter since I dated Nicole. We had a wonderful blend of camaraderie, friendship, and love. We said and did crazy things. Friends said our match was made in clown heaven.

�Here's your brown ice cream with brown gunk. Definitely a five million calorie delight.�

�Yum. That looks great, Nicole.�

Ronnie froze.

�You just called me Nicole. I'm Ronnie, remember?�

I felt so embarrassed.

�I'm sorry, Ronnie. I don't know where my head is. The thing is�Nicole was my fianc�e, but she died.�

�Oh man. Sorry to hear that. That must hurt awfully bad. I was engaged too. He left me flat when I got pregnant. He threw me some money to get rid of the problem. I wouldn't, so he disappeared. But he left a souvenir. Her name's Elizabeth. She's six months old and so beautiful.�

She departed, leaving me to ponder her confession of lost love and abandonment. No wonder her eyes seem sad. I felt sorry for her. The same thing happened to my mom.

Ronnie brought my check and asked if I lived in town.

�No. I'm just here for a few days. I came to visit Nicole's grave. It's around here somewhere. Rolling Hills Memorial Park.�

�That's about three miles outside of town. Follow Main Street all the way out, and you'll run right into it. I don't mean to pry, but would you mind telling me her last name?�

�Benson.�

Her eyes grew wide. �I knew her.� She was in my English class in high school. I remember when she died. I wanted to go to the funeral, but the newspaper didn't give any information about church or graveside services.�

�They kept things quiet and low key. Well, I'm gonna get going. It was nice meeting you Ronnie.�

�Nice meeting you, too.� She quickly added, �Come back and see me before you leave town.� Her eyes said more, but I wasn't sure what. Maybe I wasn't ready to recognize what was there.

I thought of her baby when leaving three times the customary tip.

Back at the motel, I decided to drive to the Benson car lot the next morning. I was curious about the wealthy man who would've been my father-in-law. A glimpse would be sufficient. Then, I'd find Nicole's grave.

The moment I pulled into a spot designated for customers, a salesman appeared from nowhere. Extending his hand, he said, �Howdy, I'm Bill Brown. Welcome to Benson Ford. We don't just sell cars, we make friends. Your name is--�

When I told him, he asked if I wanted to buy new or used, and if I wanted to trade in my sweet-looking Mustang convertible. He walked around it, making appreciative sounds.

�Ah, I see it was bought right here. Interesting. Hmm�California plates. When did you get this car?�

I gave the year, and he excused himself saying he'd be back in a few minutes.

Somebody else showed up instead. The new guy didn't act like a salesman. He didn't offer to shake my hand. He asked my name, as he circled the car, examining it for--whatever.

�I'm Elliot Benson. I own this place. When did you buy this car?�

�I didn't buy it. Your daughter gave it to me.�

I've never seen anybody so surprised. Surprise gave way to anger.

�Is this some kind of sick joke? If it is, you'll wish you never came within a hundred miles of my property!�

�It's the truth. Nicole willed it to me.�

Benson roared, �Will? What will? Nicole had no will.�

�I have a copy in my briefcase. In the trunk.�

I got the will, and gave it to him.

�Let's go to my office to discuss this.�

He pointed to a chair, and then read the will.

�It's her signature, alright.� He looked perplexed. �Something's not right. She told me she sold this car. I thought it odd, but let it slide. Now it turns out she didn't sell it, but gave it to you. That's fine--it was hers to give away. But why would my daughter give you a highly customized, very expensive Mustang convertible that I gave her? Frankly, there were others she could've given it to.�

I removed Nicole's picture from my wallet. �I think this will answer your question.�

He stared at it, turned it over, and read aloud. �Dearest Ed. You are the love of my life. We will always be together. Love forever, Nicole.�

Lowering his head, he shook it from side to side. �I don't know. I see this picture and what's on the back, but it's still hard to believe. I never heard of you. The only guy she ever mentioned was a student from Berkeley. She sent us a picture of them together at Fisherman's Wharf in San Francisco. His name was Chad Steward. A computer whiz. Working for his doctorate in mathematics. Do you know him?�

�No,� I said, trying to sound nonchalant.� Who is this Steward guy? I bit my lip, clenched my fists.

�That's surprising. I understand it was serious between them for quite a while. But you know how things are at that age. You date this one and that one, and you think you love the next one more than the last.�

I didn't know how things were. I didn't date this one and that one. I fell in love with Nicole and dated her exclusively. I thought Benson was trying to make me feel like an insignificant footnote in Nicole's life.

�She was gonna tell you about me during that Christmas break, two years ago.�

There was an awkward silence--she'd never reached home. Her plane crashed in the Rockies. No bodies recovered. Her parents buried an empty coffin.

�It's not easy to talk about her like this, but my daughter had a serious character flaw. Something I thought she'd grow out of. Apparently, she didn't. She had a vivid imagination and made things up when she was a girl. It was troublesome at times. It was hard for her to separate what was real from the fiction she invented. She had therapy for quite some time.�

For some reason, I didn't like the idea of Nicole in therapy.

�I sent her to the best psychiatrist in town. Seems she was forever reaching for her identity. And somehow, the little lies became part of that identity. Her fantasies often caused unrealistic expectations in others. She said she'd marry Steward in Berkeley. It never happened. She never intended it to happen. But, he expected marriage and was devastated by the deception.�

Hearing that scorched my heart. I buried my face in my hands.

�Are you OK?� Benson asked.

I nodded. �The day I drove her to the airport to catch the plane, I asked her to marry me.�

�What'd she say?�

�She accepted. We were gonna get married the following June when we both graduated. She was gonna tell you when she got home that Christmas.�

�I see.� He reached up to scratch his head, as if trying to sort things out. �Do you think she really meant it?�

�Absolutely!�

�I'm sorry to tell you that she was already formally engaged to be married that same June--to somebody else.�

My heart sank. My hands trembled.

�She was engaged to George Wilson, the son of our pastor. We threw a huge engagement party for them at the country club. George's office is right down the hall. He's our used car manager. Good man. Sells lots of cars.�

�She mentioned him when we started going steady,� I said. �She said she was gonna break off with him.�

�But she didn't,� Benson said. �She'd already picked a wedding dress. It was being made in Paris. The reception was booked for 300 guests. Right after graduation, she was returning here to marry Wilson. In fact, they were supposed to go house hunting that Christmas.�

The news of wedding plans that had proceeded so far right under my nose was shocking.

�If it was a choice between him and me, I'm absolutely sure she'd have married me. I don't care what plans were already made, or about dresses made in Paris. None of that would've mattered when it came to me.� I banged my fists on the arms of the chair for emphasis.

�I suppose we could debate this from now until eternity. We could even bring in George to make his case. But what's the point? Does it really matter? We'll never know for sure. It's all in the past. Perhaps, for your sake, it's best to think that she'd have married you, and let well enough alone. I wonder what it serves to dig up the past and sift things over and over again. We're dealing with things that can never be known.�

My proposal and her acceptance had meant everything to me. For the past two years, I agonized over the loss of the woman I loved and would've married. Maybe she said she'd marry me because it was a nice fantasy and felt good at the time. But then, she might not have married me once the pleasant fantasy slipped away. Maybe, maybe, maybe. I was developing a bad headache.

�Something else puzzles me,� he said. �Why do you suppose she made a will? She was only twenty-one and extremely healthy.�

I felt pulled in two directions. I could tell him the truth, or be like Nicole and make something up. I wondered what I should say. I stood up and began to pace. Rubbing my hands together nervously, I said, �This may be hard to believe, but Nicole had a premonition.�

�That she'd pass away?�

�Yes. She told me about it three weeks before it happened. I got very upset. I thought it was silly. I did my best to talk her out of it. But, she wouldn't listen. I didn't even know she made a will. I didn't find out until a lawyer contacted me.�

�This is the weirdest damn thing I ever heard! Do you expect me to believe such nonsense?�

�I felt the same way. We argued about it.�

�Do you think I could tell this to Nicole's mother? Never! People just don't wake up one morning and say, 'Hey, guess what--I'm gonna die soon.' Things like that don't happen.�

�Well, it did. I have a will dated a month before her death to prove it.�

His face was red. He caught his breath and said, �I think some things are best forgotten. This is one of them. Don't you agree?�

He said it in a way that made me think there'd be penalties if I didn't go along.

Reluctantly, I agreed. Sometimes we have to give in, even when we know we're right. It's one of those things about life. We know the truth, and yet it's better to never reveal it. Knowing the truth has consequences. In this situation, it could upset family members, and there was nothing to be gained by doing that. Nicole was gone, and the truth had to be buried with her empty coffin.

�I'm glad you agree,� he said patting my shoulder. �I hope you're getting on with your life, Mr. Walsh. It seems my daughter, and her peculiarities have caused you grief. It's obvious you loved her. We both did. But she's gone. It's time to let go of the past. Find a nice girl. Make her the center of your life.�

He extended his hand. I shook it and turned to leave.

�One more thing,� he said. �I'd like to have that car back--for sentimental reasons. I'll make an even trade with you. Pick out any new Mustang you want. You'll never get a better deal.�

After some paperwork, I drove away in a brand new convertible.

The talk with Benson gave me mixed feelings about visiting Nicole's grave. She'd been stringing two guys along at the same time. George Wilson and me. That's two I knew of. Were there more? What about that thing with Chad Steward? She might've been seeing him the same time as me, while betrothed to Wilson. But then, I'm the one who got her car. Maybe I was her favorite. Or did Wilson get more? Were there other men? What did they receive?

I got angry thinking of the two years I'd wasted fleeing from life and lamenting over Nicole. But that would never happen again. She wasn't worth it. On the other hand, she'd been extremely generous to me. Maybe she couldn't help how she acted. How should I feel about her?

The headache that began in Benson's office struck with full force.

I didn't go to the cemetery.

Back at the motel, I packed my suitcase. I wanted to get out of that town and never return.

I drove to the nearest bank to cash travelers checks. While waiting in line, somebody tugged at my arm.

�How's life treating my favorite Martian?� Ronnie asked.

�Nothing to write poetry about.�

�That bad, eh? Wanna tell me about it? I'm a good listener. You'd be surprised what I'd do for a cute guy.�

Ronnie was pushing the limits of teasing again.

I looked at her prettiness, the slope of her sweater, the flow of her hips, and gave into the need for a woman's sympathy.

�Yeah, I wanna talk about it. Let's get some coffee, somewhere.�

�Can't. Gotta pick up Elizabeth from the sitter. But, we can talk over dinner at my place. Do you like leftover lasagna?�

�I love it.�

�Great! Why don't you follow me in your car? I'll pick up Elizabeth, then we'll head to my apartment.�

As we left, she took my arm and walked close to me. That felt good.

Ronnie lived in a shabby part of town. Her tiny apartment was filled with dingy, thrift store furniture.

The moment we got inside, the baby started to howl.

�You wanna feed her while I heat the lasagna?�

�I never held a baby, or fed one,� I said hoping she'd get the hint. I didn't feel like doing either. It's not that I didn't like babies. I just hadn't been around them, and knew nothing about them. If the baby were mine, I suspect I'd pitch in and do all I could for the baby's comfort. But the fact was that I didn't go to Ronnie's place to deal with a baby and find out how to care for one--I went there to be with Ronnie.

�There's nothing to it.� She got up and brought the baby to me, insisting to the point where I gave in. She showed me how to cradle the baby's head, told me how much Elizabeth should drink, and then how to burp her.

I was petrified when she handed tiny Elizabeth to me. But once I took her into my arms, my feelings quickly changed. I found my disinterest and resistance sliding away, as I cradled and fed her. I never imagined how good it felt to hold a baby. She looked at me with big blue eyes, and I turned into a lump of butter in a warm pan.

I told the baby how pretty she was. She broke out into a big smile. That did it! I was Ed the vanquished, completely conquered by Princess Elizabeth.

Carefully, I put her over my shoulder to burp her. I tapped gently, but nothing happened. Ronnie looked over and said I should pat a little harder. How could I do that? I didn't wanna do the slightest harm to that little daisy. But if I didn't get her to burp, she'd get gas pains.

I tried a little harder, and Elizabeth let out a belch as loud as a truck driver's who'd just feasted on chili and beer. She got wide-eyed, as if amazed at what she'd done. I couldn't help but laugh. I was being charmed to death.

�Well, look at you,� Ronnie called from the kitchen. �You're a natural. You missed your true calling.�

Oh yeah. My true calling. Who knows what that is anymore?

Suddenly, it occurred to me that I was doing something the baby's real father had never done. Where was he? I didn't even know him, and I was at that very moment showing more care for his child than he ever had. And then I felt a bit sorry for him. He'd never feel what I'd just felt when the baby smiled at me and looked into my eyes. Poor sap. He would miss out on his daughter's love.

Ronnie put Elizabeth in her crib. �She'll sleep for hours. She's fed, changed, and comfy. Let's eat.�

Heaping lasagna on my plate, she asked where I was from besides Mars.

�California. Near San Francisco.�

�Oh, the land of my dreams. I wish I lived there. It looks so beautiful on TV. A far cry from this burg. I love those palm trees. Maybe someday I'll live there, surrounded by dozens of them.�

When dinner was finished, we moved to the sofa.

�So tell me about your miserable day,� she said.

I ended up telling her the whole story about Nicole, and the meeting with her dad. I mentioned the car, but not the money. I didn't want anybody glomming onto me just because of that. Maybe she wasn't the gold digger type, but I couldn't take chances.

�Poor baby. You've had an awful time,� she said, patting my arm.

�Your life's been no picnic, either,� I said. �How can you trust men after what happened to you?�

�I don't. Well, not until you walked into the coffee shop. The first time I saw you, I told myself, 'This is a guy I can trust.' A woman knows. I felt warm and safe just talking to you. It feels that way right now. Know what you remind me of?�

�I can't even guess.�

�A loveable teddy bear. The kind you wanna take to bed and hold all night long.� She turned crimson, realizing the implications of what she'd just said.

I'd have preferred that she think of me as tiger, instead of teddy bear. But for now, teddy bear would do.

�Wanna see what it's like to hold this teddy bear?� I asked.

Suddenly we were holding each other tightly�then kissing passionately�and then�

�Never like this,� she said, breathlessly.

I couldn't even speak.

�Don't leave tomorrow,� she said.

Wild thoughts and crazy impulses struck me.

�I'm tired of being alone,� I said looking into her weepy eyes. �Come with me. You and Elizabeth. Let's go to California, tomorrow. Leave everything behind, and let's start a new life together.�

Her eyes lit up, then dimmed just as quickly. �Oh, I just can't drop everything.�

�Why not? What do you have here? You live from day to day, hoping for decent tips. I can give you a better life. I have resources. We can get a nice apartment, brand new furniture. I'll find a job. You can stay home with Elizabeth and become a full time mom.�

�That'd be wonderful,� she sighed.

�We can buy what we want along the way. We can take our time getting there. Do some sightseeing along the way, stay at nice motels, eat at nice places. It would be the trip of a lifetime. Please say you'll come with me. I'll even buy you a palm tree.�

�I have to go with you--I'm falling in love with you.� She hugged me tightly.

We stayed another day so Ronnie could tie up loose ends. Then, we waved goodbye to nothing and said hello to everything.

Michael A. Kechula is a retired technical writer. His flash fiction works have won first prize in six contests and honorable mention in three others. His stories have appeared in sixty-nine online and print magazines and anthologies in Australia, Canada, England, and US. He�s authored two books of flash fiction: A Deck Full of Zombies--61 Speculative Fiction Tales, available at Books for a Buck.com and Crazy Stories for Crazy People, available at Amazon.com