The House on Olive Street by Robyn Carr

attempting to read students’ papers in the evening, when the doorbell rang. It was only seven, but she was already in her robe. She checked the peephole. She wouldn’t open the door unless it was a neighbor in need. But it was Ben! Oh God, she thought. How could she have forgotten that it was Wednesday! Their television night, as he so delicately put it. She flung open the door. “Oh, Ben, my God, I entirely forgot!”
    “Sometimes you’re not very complimentary, Elly,” he said, but he laughed good-naturedly. “That’s okay.”
    “It’s my brain. It’s gone to mush.”
    “Oh now, I can’t believe that. I brought us some butter brickle ice cream. Can I come in?”
    “Yes, yes, of course,” she said, holding the door for him. He held a couple of grocery bags. He always brought some sort of fruits or vegetables and ice cream. “But Ben, I’m not sure I’m good company tonight. Gabby, you know. I’m still so out of it.”
    “Maybe you need a shoulder rub, hmm? And a nice dish of butter brickle?”
    “I don’t know….”
    “Well, let’s see. If it turns out to be a bad night, that’s okay. We could leave the television off and play some music. Or maybe we could play cards…to take your mind off things. Or, I could just go home.”
    “No, no, you’ve come all this way. Let’s at least have some ice cream. Can you put on the coffee while I go change into something less comfortable?”
    He kissed her cheek. “You don’t have to change, Elly. You look fine to me.”
    She considered this for a moment. She was comfortable. But he was all cleaned up, wearing his best pale yellow shirt with his favorite burgundy sweater. His face was smoothly shaven and his sparse, thin hair slicked from his right ear to his left ear in an attempt to partially cover his bald head. “I’ll change,” she said. “Be right back.”
    How could she have forgotten about Ben? She had hardly even thought about him!
    Elly had met Ben years ago. Seven or eight, shethought. He ran a roadside fruit and vegetable stand that she’d found off the main drag between Sacramento and Berkeley, which she drove three or four days a week. She did a lot of poking around in the small towns off the freeway for diversion. She took various exits just to experiment. On one of the heavily traveled back roads around Davis, Ben had his stand. From April till at least October, she stopped there regularly for one thing or another. After four or five years of that, he asked her if her husband enjoyed all his fresh goods. She told him she had no husband and he said he was sure surprised at that. Then he said he’d been widowed a long time—about five years at that point. Then began his series of invitations—to a church function, to a potluck thrown by his grown children at a daughter’s house, to a movie, to dinner at a cafeteria-style restaurant.
    Eleanor continually declined, but she did begin to learn more about Ben. He was a farmer and had been farming vegetables for years. When he reached the age of fifty-five and his wife was gone, he faced an impasse—he could turn the farm over to his two sons or sell to Del Monte. With the blessing of his children, he sold the farm, except for one generous garden. He still lived in the farmhouse in which he’d raised his five kids—now aged thirty to forty-one—and he sold most of his vegetables at his roadside stand. It was meant to be a hobby, but the “dad-gum thing” not only required as much time and effort as a general store, it also brought him a handsome living. His house was paid for, his money from Del Monte was invested, and he earned more than he needed from his vegetable stand, which was open from noon to six every day, seven days a week.
    Ben was ordinary and homely. His nose was too large, his eyes a little small and his teeth slanted into his mouth.He dressed funny—mismatched colors and old, outdated double knits. For Elly to notice this suggested he was a fashion disaster—she was