The Moments Between

by Natalie Banks

  Something about this situation felt off to me. My heart was pounding and I didn’t know why. I stepped out onto the porch so I could see him better.

  He looked to be in his fifties and was completely bald. He had soft but worn features and shockingly large ears. His striking blue eyes stood out from the rest of him. I guessed those eyes probably drove the girls wild in his younger days. He shifted uncomfortably in his grey suit. He was wearing a yellow tie that didn’t quite match. Had he chosen it for himself?

  “I’m sorry. I should’ve introduced myself. My name is Detective Nate Anderson, and I am with the Charlotte Police Department.”

  The Charlotte Police Department?

  My mind reeled trying to think of a reason for him being here as he fished for something in his pocket.

  How did he know my name?

  He pulled out his wallet and opened it to an official ID to assure me of who he was.

  “Can we step inside?” He asked again.

  I stared at him blankly, not wanting to move. Not wanting to know what he had to say to me. Deep in my gut, something made me want time to go backwards. To be back in the kitchen putting away dishes and make it so that he never knocked on my door.

  Everything around me felt as if it were moving in slow motion.

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath as we stepped inside.

  We stopped just inside the foyer. A strange energy hung in the air.

  I didn’t want him to speak.

  Was there a way to make him stop? To make him go away.

  My breathing became shallow as he shifted nervously.

  “Mrs. DuPont…” He cleared his throat, obviously having difficulty getting out what he wanted to say.

  I took a step backward. I could sense in his voice that something wasn’t right. Something wasn’t right at all…

  “Mrs. DuPont, I’m afraid that there’s been an accident…”

  I choked on a scream.

  “My boys?!” My entire body began to quake.

  “No ma’am…it was a train accident. Earlier today.”

  “A train accident?” I stammered, confused.

  “Yes ma’am…and I am afraid your husband…”

  Before he could finish his sentence, I let out a sigh of relief.

  “No, no…my husband couldn’t have been on that train. He’s not coming home until much later.”

  He continued, despite my interruption.

  “I am sorry to inform you that your husband was one of the seven victims that were killed today at 3:15. The three o’clock train collided with a transfer truck that had stalled on the tracks at the Central Avenue intersection, causing it to derail, and one of the cars detached and flipped, killing seven and injuring fourteen.” He looked down as he spoke. I could tell he was uncomfortable with this assignment. I wondered if that was his job. Informing families of deaths. If it was, he didn’t seem to be adjusted to it.

  “Your husband was in the train car that derailed.”

  Once again, I corrected him. “No, my husband wasn’t due to come home yet. I’m telling you, he was not on that train!”

  “We were able to identify him by his driver’s license.” He paused. “Again, I am so sorry.”

  “NO!” I shouted. “You are mistaken!” I stumbled away from him and grabbed my cell phone off of the foyer table. With trembling hands, I steadied myself as I dialed Ben’s phone number. My skin felt as if it was on fire. Burning me from the outside in.

  “He’s fine, I am telling you.” I looked over at the detective defiantly.

  He stared at me with a pained look on his face. I knew that I wasn’t making his job any easier, but he was wrong and I knew it.

  I waited for the ringing. I waited for Ben’s voice to come on the line and tell me that everything was okay. That the detective was wrong. He had the wrong wife.

  Instead, it went straight to voicemail. Ben’s voice recording told me that he couldn’t take my call right now and to leave a message.

  I hung up and determinedly dialed it again with the exact same result.

  Quickly, I dialed his office, assuming that his phone battery was dead.

  The receptionist answered and put me through to his desk.

  I looked over at Detective Anderson. “I’m calling him at work. We will get this all sorted out, right now.”

  I nodded my head assuredly. He just stared at me blankly in response.

  The call was answered on the second ring. My heart soared.

  “Ben! Oh, thank God! There’s a man here…”

  I was cut off by the voice of David Taylor, one of Ben’s co-workers.

  “Hey there, Claire! I am sorry but Ben isn’t here. He left over two hours ago to go home. Said he had something he wanted to tell you. He didn’t say what. Just left in a pretty big hurry. Is he not home yet?”

  I dropped the phone, and it bounced off the foyer rug and onto the hardwood, sliding to stop at the man’s feet. I could faintly hear David’s voice calling my name to see if I was still on the line.

  The detective picked up the phone and tried to hand it to me.

  “No…” I choked out as I looked into the soft blue eyes in front of me.

  He stepped toward me and I backed away.

  “No!” I said again. “It’s not true…it’s not true!” My voice broke off.

  I collapsed onto the floor sobbing. Electricity spread through my body like a zap of lightning. Every cell in my body fought against what was happening.

  He came in close and lifted me from the floor. He took me by my elbow and gently led me into the kitchen. I sat down at the dining table and he sat down across from me.

  Detective Anderson was speaking but I couldn’t hear him. There was loud ringing in my ears, a screeching so loud that it was all consuming.

  “Mrs. DuPont, is there anyone I can call for you?” he asked.

  I couldn’t process what he was saying.

  Darkness was creeping in, slowly at first, but suddenly it encompassed me, and I fell off the chair and onto the floor.

  When I came to, there was a woman in a police officer’s uniform standing over me. For just a moment, I couldn’t remember what had happened. I was baffled by her presence in my home. I looked across the room and made eye contact with a blue-eyed man whom I didn’t recognize.

  “Where’s Ben? Where are my boys?” I demanded.

  The blue-eyed man moved in closer and instantly the memory of who he was came flooding back. My body quaked violently and I began to sob.

  The female officer patted my face with a cold washcloth. Blue terrycloth with lime green gingham edging. It was from my own kitchen. She lifted me up, led me into the living room and sat me down on the sofa. She disappeared momentarily and returned with a box of tissues.

  Where had she found them?

  Maybe under the bathroom sink. Leftover from last year’s flu stint that had made its way throughout the entire house.

  The female officer then handed me a glass of water. I took it and stared at her. She seemed experienced at this kind of stuff. Her demeanor, calm and quiet.

  She had blonde hair with streaks of brown pulled back into a ponytail. She was pretty but not graceful. She definitely had the cop look down, except for a tiny pair of pearl earrings that she wore. Almost seemed to be worn in a purposeful contrast to everything else about her.

  I studied her face and wondered what her life was like. Was she married? Did she have kids?

  Then, I remembered why she was here.

  Sharp, jagged memories piled up in my mind. June 3rd. Train accident. Seven victims. Your husband…

  I let out an audible cry of pain. A pain that threatened to completely crush me.

  She got up and disappeared for a moment. When she came back, she handed me a white pill.


  She whispered, “Here, take this. It will take the edge off.”

  She smiled sweetly despite her stern tone. I popped the pill in my mouth without even questioning her about what it was or where she had gotten it. Soon, the world drifted away and I fell asleep right there on the couch.

  When I awoke, my mother was sitting on the couch next to me, and Mandi was sitting in a chair across the room. Her eyes were swollen and red. She blew her nose into some tissue.

  “Where are the boys?” I asked in a hoarse voice.

  I looked around and saw that the police officers were gone, and the sun was completely down. How long had I had slept?

  “The boys are upstairs watching a movie,” my mother answered. “The police officer called me from your phone and we came right away.”

  Mandi moved closer to me. She kneeled down in front of me as I tried to sit up. She put her head in my lap and started to cry. Almost as if she wanted me to comfort her. Of course, she would try to make this about her.

  I had never hated Mandi more than I did at this moment.

  I stood up, and in doing so her head flung off to the side. She looked up at me with a startled expression on her face. I wobbled as I tried to walk across the room. My mother got up and steadied me. I was surprised by her tenderness.

  “Did anyone tell the boys…?” my voice broke in mid-sentence.

  “No, we thought it was best for them to hear it from you.”

  I could hear Mandi’s sobs coming from behind me in the living room as I climbed the stairs toward the boys’ room.

  I walked in the room and saw that they were already in their pajamas. And from their wet hair, I could see that they had been given a bath too.

  I looked around their room and saw their dinosaur posters on the wall and the matching Spiderman comforters on their twin beds. A stuffed monkey from the zoo with Velcro hands hung from the curtain rod. There was a small lamp on the night table that stood between their beds. Lego men and Hot Wheels sat underneath the glow.

  Just last night, I had stood in this very doorway while Ben had tucked them in and kissed them both good night. Now, Ben would never tuck them in again. A cry caught in my throat, but I pushed it down.

  They were both laying in Grayson’s bed. He was the oldest, and Oliver always looked up to him. Getting to lie in Grayson’s bed was a real treat for him.

  I went over and crawled into the bed with them. All three of us, tightly squeezed in. I wrapped my arms around both of them and pulled them closer to me.

  Mom turned off the television and cleared her throat, as if to remind me of what needed to be said.

  I knew what I had to do. I was just trying to let them have these last few minutes of innocence.

  I slowly sat up and faced them.

  “There’s something Mommy has to tell you…” I kept my voice steady and clear. They needed me to be strong. Even though deep inside, I felt like I was one the one who died.

  The days that followed were a blur. The visit to the coroner’s office to identify my husband’s body, the meeting with funeral director, the paperwork. I moved through it all as if it were a dream.

  At night, I would lie on his side of the bed, smelling his pillow. During the day I would wear his shirts. Wanting none of this to be real. Trying to keep him as close to me as possible.

  The boys were noticeably sad, but seemed to take this more in stride. At least, better than I was able to. Though the last two nights in a row, Oliver had a nightmare and had called out for his daddy in his sleep. I had gone to him and held him tight until his sobs slowed and his breathing returned to a normal rhythmic pattern.

  The funeral was small. I didn’t want a big production. Ben wouldn’t have wanted a big production either. Mandi tried to handle the planning and I refused to let her. I didn’t want this to become one of her events.

  There were about twenty-five people in attendance, and there were so many words of condolences, it all started to run together.

  The faces and the words.

  After the funeral, cars lined the street in front of our house. People poured in the front door with covered casserole dishes.

  While everyone gathered downstairs to grieve and eat together, I slipped upstairs gripping the urn containing his ashes. I walked into our room and placed them on his side of the bed. I stepped back and looked at it. It sunk into the comforter and tilted awkwardly to the side.

  A sensation of nausea came over me so powerfully that I had to swallow back vomit. My insides hemorrhaged with denial. I grabbed the urn off of the bed and shoved it into the closet. I couldn’t bear looking at the reminder that Ben was dead. To be reminded that I would never look at his sweet face again. Or run my hands along his stubbled cheek from a weekend of not shaving. I would never kiss his soft lips or argue over the TV remote. We would never take another family vacation or go apple picking together. Never BBQ in the backyard again. We wouldn’t grow old and wrinkly together. We wouldn’t watch our boys grow up to be men and later see our grandchildren brought into this world. Everything that my entire life had been planned around was now gone. He took all my hopes and dreams into that urn with him.

  As I closed the closet door, my bedroom door creaked open. Mandi quietly stepped inside. She was wearing a black low-cut V-neck dress that fit her curves perfectly and patent stiletto heels. She even looked spectacular at a funeral…

  “Hey, you should come down here. Everyone is looking for you,” she spoke softly.

  I looked at her with contempt in my eyes.

  “I don’t owe them anything,” I snarled.

  “I know you don’t, honey, but it would bring a sense of comfort to everyone if you would come down for just a little while. It would be good for the boys too.”

  I was shocked at her selfless words. That was a first for Mandi.

  I made my way through that day and the days that followed, step by step.

  Minute by minute.

  Hour by hour.

  In some ways, it felt like he was still here, and in other ways, all traces of him had completely disappeared.

  I barely slept at night. The moments I managed to sleep were filled with visions of his face. And my cries out for him would ring out into the darkness, startling me from my sleep and leaving me wide awake again.

  Mandi began taking the boys on Saturday nights for what she called “their time with their auntie.” She wanted me to start to practice some self-care. I was surprised at her willingness. It almost seemed like she was actually trying to care.

  After the first few months, the days got a little easier. At least, I pretended it was easier. They say if you pretend something long enough, it starts to become truth to you. But even so, the nights were still long and lonely—and his side of the bed never lost its emptiness.

  Before I knew it, six months had passed and the holidays were approaching. I was filled with dread. How could I get through them without Ben? Who would put up the Christmas tree? Who would put together Oliver’s new bike? Who would help me fill the stockings on Christmas Eve?

  I thought of last Christmas and how after we had put the kids to bed, we had made love on the rug in front of the fireplace. Afterwards, Ben had made us chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream. We stayed up laughing and talking and didn’t go to bed until nearly four in the morning. The boys were back up at six. We had just smiled at each other over our coffee cups as the boys tore into their gifts. Moments I didn’t think much about…until now.

  The memories…and regret…were never far from my mind. How I wished and even desperately prayed that somehow this wasn’t my reality. That somehow, he had not died on the train that day and we would still be together.

  That somehow everything was okay again.

  Praying a futile prayer that never ceased.

  I would see older couples holding hands in the park, and I
would break down. It wasn’t fair! He shouldn’t have even been on that train! He shouldn’t be dead right now. All the reasons why this shouldn’t have happened flew through my head daily, on repeat.

  I couldn’t begin to understand how this could have happened to us.

  Not to us. Not when we loved each other so much…

  All I knew is that I wanted my husband back, and if anyone had given me the opportunity to make it so, I would’ve taken it.

  No questions asked.

  Yet, he was gone and no power in heaven or on earth could bring him back to me now.

  My body shivered with the grim images as I wiped away the tears from my face. I reached out frantically in the darkness for Ben. My hands found him there. I could feel the warmth of his body as his chest rose and fell with each breath. I scooted up to him and buried my face into his back. Soon after, the dream receded back into the depths of my mind and slipped away again.

  Chapter 4

  I awoke, the morning after Mandi’s party, to the sound of the front door closing. And I found a note on Ben’s pillow.

  Went to work early. Didn’t want to disturb you. Thought you could use the extra sleep.

  You seemed restless last night.

  I’ll check on you later.

  Yours Always,

  Ben

  I rolled over and looked at morning edging in through the window and sighed.

  Everything was as it should be.

  Nothing was amiss…

  I thought about the dream. How real the events felt.

  The pain so deep, and the grief so palpable.

  It shook me up more than I wanted to admit.

  But the fact was that Ben didn’t even take the train. He had a perfectly good Honda Accord that he drove to work, every single day.

  Reaffirming to me again…it was just a dream.

  Despite my desire to put it all behind me, I found myself calling the Magnolia Bakery as soon I was out of the bed. And of course, they were open for business, as usual. When I asked about a kitchen fire, I was put on hold. The alarmed voice that returned on the line was stern and wanted to know my name. Embarrassed, I hung up, assuming they thought I was threatening them.