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“Grandpa?”
“Hm?” Stede opened his eyes and lifted his head from where it had been resting against the back of the recliner.
“Do you believe in love at first sight? Soulmates? That sort of thing?"
He looked at his oldest grandchild and then over at their mother for help.
“Sam’s conducting a survey for their sociology class about how people interact with each other based on their immediate thoughts, feelings, attractions, etc.” Alma supplied, tucking her shoulder-length blonde-gray hair behind her ear.
“Ah,” Stede said in understanding.
“So do you?” Sam prodded.
Stede made a quiet ‘hmm’ sound and allowed his mind to wander back in time. Fluorescent lights, REO Speedwagon, a box of cereal, and long brown fingers brushing against his.
It had been quite some time since he’d acknowledged his thoughts about him. Maybe even years. But he was always there in the back of his mind. On slow evenings when he was alone in his apartment. Sunday afternoons when he did his weekly grocery shopping. Brushing his teeth, making his bed, and in all the quiet times in between waking and sleeping. He thought of him, The Lucky Charms Guy.
“Oh, sorry,” he apologized to the other man, releasing the box of cereal he’d reached for. “Oh.” Oh.
“Ah, no worries, mate. You got there first,” the deep, warm voice responded.
“Really,” he said, willing his voice to hold steady, “it’s fine.”
The man was the most beautiful person Stede had ever seen. Long, silvery hair fell in loose curls over broad shoulders. Brown skin decorated in black ink, including an impressive snake that wound its way out from underneath a purple hem sleeve. He wore a short, well-maintained beard, salt'n’peppered to match the long hair, broken in half by a kind smile. And his eyes, warm brown that, Stede could swear, actually fucking twinkled like a cartoon character’s.
“-kids.”
“I’m sorry. What?” Good one, Bonnet, he chastised himself.
The other man laughed softly, not unkindly, and repeated, “You take it,” he handed the box of Lucky Charms to Stede. “It looks like you have kids.”
Stede looked to where the man had motioned with his head and saw his shopping cart full of Lunchables, juice boxes, string cheese, and several other kid-centric food options. “Oh, yes. But they’ll be just as happy with something else.” He scanned the shelves and grabbed a box of Trix instead. “Plus,” he continued, adding the fruity cereal to his basket, “you need it more. You have a half gallon of milk and the Lucky Charms. I’d hate to break your heart by taking the last box from you.”
“Well,” the man said, smiling so his eyes slit into happy creases, “thank you. But mate, you can’t replace Lucky Charms with fucking Trix.”
“What’s wrong with Trix?”
“It’s inferior in every way to Lucky Charms. The only acceptable substitutes are something chocolatey, either puffs or pebbles, or, fuck, Cinnamon Toast Crunch.” The man pulled the sugary cereal off the shelf and deposited it in place of the Trix.
Stede was utterly charmed by the action. It was so presumptuous and direct. “Well,” he exhaled. “Thank you for saving me from yet another Lame Dad award.”
“Lame Dad award? Is that a thing?”
“It is for my kids. Bringing home an inferior substitute for Lucky Charms would be something I’d probably never live down.”
“No offense, but that sounds harsh.”
Stede exhaled. “It hasn’t been easy on them since the divorce, the every other weekend household shuffle,” he started on an overshare before biting back his own words. “Plus, you just shamed me for the same thing,” he pointed out, hands landing unconsciously on his hips like some kind of triumphant victory.
The Lucky Charms Guy shuffled his feet and a light blush crept above his beard line. “Fair, but I’m a stranger, not your kids and I don’t give out awards for lameness. It’s not like you were getting them Grape Nuts or something.”
“What’s wrong with Grape Nuts?”
The other man threw his head back and laughed loudly enough that other shoppers turned their heads.
“Nothing,” he said when he’d stopped laughing. “They’re fine if you like unflavored, rodent pellets you can pick out of your teeth the rest of the day.”
Stede started to giggle. The guy was right in his description of the cereal. “Ok, ok,” he said. “You have a point.”
Silence fell between them then. REO played over the speakers and the harsh glow of the fluorescent lights fell to the background of the moment. Their eyes met and held. Out of his periphery, Stede watched the man’s chest rise and fall, a slight stutter to the rhythm.
“I’m-“
“‘Scuse me,” someone said, stepping between them and pulling another box of cereal off the shelf.
He saw the other man exhale and rub a hand at the back of his neck. The interrupter stepped back and continued down the aisle.
Stede opened his mouth to finally introduce himself, maybe find the courage to ask for a phone number when the phone in his pocket chimed. “Sorry,” he apologized, pulling the device from his pocket. “Hey, sweetie,” he greeted.
He spoke with Alma, mentally adding grape jelly and Eggo waffles to his list and when he hung up, Lucky Charms Guy was gone.
Stede looked for him, walking along the front of the store, scanning every aisle but he was gone. He looked for the handsome stranger every time he returned to the store for the next few weeks but never saw him.
“Eventually,” Stede said, “I stopped looking for him.”
“So you never saw him again?” Sam asked, their eyes wide and sad.
“No,” said on an exhale.
“You didn’t try to find him?” Alma inquired.
“I mean,” Stede shrugged, “I always kept an eye out at the grocery store or the coffee shop. Any time I went out in the neighborhood. I figured if it was meant to be, I’d find him.”
“No, Pop. I mean, did you ever go online to find him?”
“Alma, I don’t even know his name. How would I find him?”
“Missed Connections, Grandpa,” Sam supplied with all the long-suffering their 19 years had afforded them.
“Missed connections?” His head spun and his gut felt swirly.
“It’s a website for people to reconnect with each other. You know, like you and Lucky Charms Guy.”
“Dear, it’s been almost 30 years. I think that ship has long sailed. Don’t you?”
“Don’t you want to know if he looked for you, too?”
“I don’t know what good it would do. It was five minutes a very, very long time ago.”
“When did it happen?” Sam asked, opening their laptop.
“Um,” Stede stalled as if the date wasn’t burned into his memory right after the dates of his children’s birthdays. “Fifteenth of June, 2024.”
Minutes passed, the occasional click of keys on the keypad the only sound as Sam navigated through the website.
“I’m sure there’s nothing there,” Stede said, worrying his fingers in his lap. “Like I said earlier, this was a long time ago.”
“They have archives on these sites, Pop. Sam’s probably searching around in June 2024.” Sam made an approving sound from their spot on the sofa. “Plus, what harm could it do?”
More than you know, Stede thought. If the spark he’d felt had been purely one-sided and he’d managed to stoke it into a nearly fully-fledged fantasy life for himself where he was loved and desired, he’s not sure he could handle it. The fantasy of feeling that beard scratch his face with early morning kisses or those wavy locks framing his face from above him or the warm, deep voice asking him how his day had been had sometimes been all that got him through some days.
“Is he the reason, Pop?”
“What reason?”
“Why you never settled down after you and Ma split?”
Sam continued their search, eyebrows drawn in concentration, the occasional huff of air being expelled.
“Not entirely,” he lied.
“Pop,” Alma placed a slight hand on his knee. “You never settled down again. I know you dated, and I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of sexual partners-“
“Alma!” “Mum, please!”
“But,” she continued, “you never lived with anyone. Never remarried.”
“Alma,” Stede began but was interrupted by a gasp from Sam.
“I think I found him!”
Suddenly, Stede’s shirt collar was too tight. “What?”
“I think I’ve found him,” Sam repeated. “The entry is dated June 16th. And it looks like there might be others on different dates.”
“Let me see,” Stede requested, reaching for the laptop. He slipped on his glasses and read:
Lucky Charm Seeking Grape Nut
Probably a long shot, you don’t really seem the type to check these things but I figured I’d try.
We met yesterday when we both reached for the last box of Lucky Charms and you graciously let me have it. I haven’t been able to think of much else except for you since then. I’m Ed, by the way.
If you are the type to check these things, I’m at seven-78-nine-four-92. I’d love to take you out for a breakfast better than cereal sometime
Stede read it again and again and again. He’d, Ed, had felt it, too. But, this entry was three decades old. There’s no way Ed would still be interested or that the number would still work.
“Hi, is this Ed? … It is? … My name’s Sam, you don’t know me but my grandfather is Stede Bonnet, the Grape Nut.”
Stede watched, frozen between fight or flight mode.
“Yep, one second,” Sam said before handing the phone to him. “He wants to talk to you.”
He took the phone in sweaty hands and cleared his throat, “He-hello?”
“How’d the kids like the Cinnamon Toast Crunch?”