The Loss Between Us

by Brooke McBride

  I’m already in the back at our normal table when he pulls up on Shirley, Jr. He walks in, confident as always, and heads straight for me.

  “Hey you,” he says.

  “Hey.” I slide his cup of coffee toward him. We’ve gotten into a habit of whomever gets here first makes the first purchase. He usually beats me, and I think he secretly tries to one up me.

  He looks at me with concerned eyes. “You seem upset today. Something going on?”

  “That obvious?” Maybe the dark circles and the slightly greasier hair is a giveaway.

  “The red nose and puffy eyes don’t really suit you.”

  “Sorry, you’re probably embarrassed to even be seen with me.” I wipe my fingers under my eyes and try to make myself look more presentable. I tried before I left the house, but I guess I wasn’t successful.

  “Jen, I could never be embarrassed by you. Okay, that’s not true. I was embarrassed when you accidentally leaned against that wall with the “Wet Paint” sign. Then you walked through the restaurant with it down your side.” He starts laughing, and I kick him under the table.

  “You promised you would never bring that up again.”

  He raises his hands in the air. “Okay, okay, you’re right. Sorry. What’s going on?”

  I feel the smile fade as my lips turn inward. When I saw the date on my phone this morning, I couldn’t believe it. Six days. In six short days, it will have been a whole year since he’s been gone. “The one-year anniversary of Jeff’s death is coming up next week….”

  “Oh.”

  It didn’t seem possible. But the past few months have been a lot different than the ones right after. At that time there was a chaos that surrounded me. Nothing mattered. Nothing made sense. And I refused to accept it. But now I’ve settled into widow life. It’s not a place I can stay in forever, nor do I want to. I will eventually have to step back into the land of the living and at least start earning a wage again. But I will always be a widow. I will always be a mother without a child. And I can’t continue to live in a house I can’t afford. Even if I don’t know what the next step is.

  “Yeah.” I sit my coffee on the table and then lean in, like I have a secret to share. “But a part of me is relieved.”

  His cup was almost to his lips, yet he hesitates and glares at me before sitting it back down. “Okay, why?”

  “I know that’s horrible. It’s just that I’ve read so many of these damn books, and they all talk about how the first year is the hardest. The first birthday, the first Christmas, the first anniversary of their death. So my mind is telling my heart that there’s just one more hurdle to get through before this starts to get easier. And it’s stupid. It’s not like I’m going to wake up the day after and everything will be fine. Plus, I lost the baby a few days later, so...” I haven’t mentioned the baby since the hike. Talking about Jeff is hard, but talking about our unborn child will always be unbearable to me.

  “I understand and I’m not judging you. Life is hard enough without people judging you through it. I also don’t think you being relieved is a horrible thing. But I’m glad you realize that everything won’t be fine. It will be another hurdle, but it’s not going to make all the pain go away. Time won’t even do that Jen, but you know that.”

  “I’m no longer Jeff’s wife…” That’s the first time I’ve said that out loud.

  “No. You’re not.”

  “So who am I?”

  “Maybe it’s time for you to figure that out.”

  “How? How do I do that? I don’t want this life.”

  “But you have it, whether you want it or not.”

  I place my head in my hands. I think back to law school, when I was truly finding out who I was, and I can’t help but think of Jeff. I grew into a woman with him. Every decision I made was influnced by his decisions. I became the type of lawyer I did because he wanted to be a trial lawyer. I knew one of us would need a more flexible schedule if we wanted kids. We stayed in Kansas City to be closer to his family. And since I was an only child, my parents moved here to be closer to me. I made a lot of sacrifices for him and for our future, and at the time, I didn’t consider them sacrifices because I loved him. I sigh and take a sip of my coffee while Nash stares at me. “We all have forks in the road in our lives that we have to choose, and once you do, you can’t go back.”

  “You don’t need to go back, you need to go forward.”

  “What are you saying?”

  He scrubs a hand over his face. “What do you want me to say?”

  I scoff. “You and Olivia both! Can’t either of you give me a straight answer when I need it?”

  “I’m sure you feel lost, Jen. I understand—I do. But only you can find your way back. And when I say back, I mean back to you, the new you.”

  I close my eyes and try to drown out the hum of laughter and talking. I focus on the aroma of coffee and take a deep breath before saying, “But it’s all gone.”

  Nash grabs my hands and moves them toward him. “You! You’re not gone, you’re right here.”

  I sigh. “That’s a little cliché.”

  “It’s not.” He nostrils flare, and I can tell he’s trying to remain patient, but I don’t know what he expects me to say. There’s too much fog to make my way through.

  “I don’t know, okay! I mapped my life out, worked hard, got everything I wanted, and then in one brief moment, it was all gone.”

  “I get that. So what do you want now?”

  “Besides what I had?”

  “Yes, Jensen. If I could give that to you, I would. But…you know that life is gone.”

  Glancing around the coffee shop, I see a few people staring at us. I must have been talking louder than I realized. Tears prick at the back of my eyes, but I manage to hold them back “I know…I just…I don’t know how to live without them.”

  “It’s going to take time. But you have to acknowledge they’re gone and accept it before you can move on.”

  “What if I don’t want to move on?”

  “I’m sorry, but I just don’t believe that anymore.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “Jen, I’ve seen you make so much progress these past few months. You smile, you laugh, you shower. We hang out. You’re able to function in public. When was the last time you had a panic attack? I can’t imagine you going back to drifting through life like when I met you. Is that what you want?” He proceeds without waiting for a response from me. “Is it going to be hard? Yes. Are there going to be days that guilt takes over, that anger takes over for being in this shitty situation in the first place? Yes. And I can guarantee there will be times you’ll be so sad you don’t want to get out of bed. But I don’t believe that you’re not going to fight your way through it, because that’s not who you are.”

  I take a deep breath and slowly release it. “I guess…”

  “Let’s just focus on getting through next week, okay?” I nod and then watch him force himself up and out of the booth. He moves away and navigates the entire distance of the coffee shop. He paces in short spans before he returns to the booth. When he sits, he’s his normal, calm, cool and collected self. What he has to be mad about, I have no idea.

  Chapter 22

  It’s anniversary day. I’ve always thought of anniversaries as happy occasions. Not today. I’m in bed, but not sleeping. I knew today would be hard. How do you prepare for something like this? I was very clear with my mother that I didn’t want her checking on me. She’s been talking with Doris, Jeff’s mom, and they’ve been pushing me to go through his things. I get it. I’m sure there are things of his she wants. But it must be in my time, and I’m not ready.

  My mother asked me earlier in the week what I planned to do today. I looked at her like she was crazy. What’s the protocol for officially being a widow for a year? I guess I can go back to bright colors and life just moves on, right?

  The clock reads 2:38 a.m. It’s the same clock I looked at the night
I heard the doorbell ring. For some reason, the doorbell ringing is what I remember the best. I don’t remember running to the door. I don’t remember letting the two police men in. I do remember holding on to my stomach, trying to protect our unborn child because I knew my life was about to change forever. My parents showed up at some point. I know my mom put me to bed. I know they called my OBGYN and she made an unheard-of house call and told my family to watch over me and do whatever they could to take the stress off me. But I remember none of this.

  The next thing I remembered was the closet light shining in my face. I glanced around. The room was dark, but I could see light lurking beneath the shades. I heard someone rustling through the closet, and then my mom walked out with one of Jeff's suits.

  I sat up and felt my face flush with anger. “What are you doing?”

  My mother, clearly startled, jumped back. “Honey, I thought you were sleeping.”

  “What are you doing, Mom?”

  “Well, honey, the funeral home…they need...honey, they need something to bury him in.”

  “And you didn’t think I should have a say in that?”

  “Oh honey, I didn’t want to bother you with it.”

  I threw the covers off and walked up to my mom. “Give me that.” I ripped the suit from her hands and walked back into the closet. I rehung the suit and went to the end of the row where Jeff kept his favorite suit. It was the first one he had splurged on when he won his first big case. I then grabbed the blue pinstriped shirt that he liked to wear with it as well as his dark gray tie. I picked up his favorite cufflinks and his black shoes. I walked out and handed them to my mom. "Here. He should wear this."

  I walked over to the dresser and pulled out a clean pair of boxer briefs and black socks. I held these out for my mother to take and avoided eye contact with her. I was angry with her for a long time for that. I couldn’t believe she would make a decision like that without me. But looking back on that time in my life, I wasn’t capable of making any decisions.

  Everyone was trying to protect me since I was three months pregnant. We had just told our family and friends I was pregnant only two weeks before. In the end, it didn’t matter. I’m not sure which day was worse. The day I lost my husband or the day I lost our baby.

  I don’t remember much between the time I picked out Jeff’s suit and the day of the funeral. There were lots of things that happened in between. People came by. They dropped off flowers, which I demanded be removed. They dropped off food I never ate. They offered condolences I didn’t want.

  I do remember walking into the funeral home the morning of his funeral and being knocked in the face with the overwhelming smell of flowers. I remembered when Jeff promised to never buy me flowers as long as we were together. I guess he kept that promise. But I never envisioned being surrounded by them on the day I would say goodbye after spending such a short time with him.

  My mother was annoying me that morning because we were running late and she was making a big deal about it. My mom led me or, more accurately, dragged me into the lobby and told me that we were in the large chapel. As I turned the corner, I saw the pastor from our church marching toward us.

  My mother had made all of the arrangements, so I let her continue to run the show. I remember her saying, “Good morning, Pastor. I’m sorry we’re running late.”

  “That’s okay, I understand.” He released my mother’s hand and reached for me. “Jensen, my deepest sympathies. Jeff was a wonderful man and will be truly missed.” I didn’t take his hand, and he finally moved it back to his side. “If you don’t mind, there are some details of the service I would like to go over with you before we begin?” I felt him come around to my side, and he placed his hand on my elbow and I stepped away from him as fast as I could and followed him wherever he was leading us.

  “Please have a seat. I just want to make sure I have some dates correct, names, those sorts of things.” The pastor pulled out a piece of paper and laid it in front of me.

  As I scanned it, I realized it was my husband’s entire life laid out before me. His birth date and place. His parents’ names. His sister and friends. When we met. The day we married. And then, there in black and white, read a list of survivors. My eyes found them like they were jumping off the page: “Survived by his wife, Jensen Parker Landry and his child, Baby Landry, both of the home.” I reached down and grabbed my stomach and finally felt the tears start to flow. They came in such a rush. I couldn’t stop them. For the first time since Jeff died, I cried. I sobbed so hard that I couldn’t catch my breath.

  My mother grabbed my shoulders and wrapped her arms around me, “Oh honey, it’s okay…it’s okay…” She said as she shushed me.

  But I didn’t want to be shushed. “It’s not okay. Nothing will ever be okay again.” I picked up the piece of paper and waved in front of her face. “Look, his whole life fits on one little piece of paper. It should be a book. He was so amazing and didn’t get to do all the things he was supposed to do. His child will never know the type of person he was or how much he loved them.” Screams erupted from my lungs and took over for the sobs that had been escaping. The pastor walked over and tried to calm me down. But it had no impact. The only thing I could focus on was the fact that my husband was gone. He had left me to care for our unborn child alone.

  My father rushed through the door. I looked at my father and saw heartbreak as he watched me. I should have stopped, but I couldn’t. “He’s dead, Dad. He’s dead!” I screamed as loud as my body would allow. Everything that I had kept pent up for the past few days came out. The anguish and guilt that he was at that damn convenience store because of me.

  I began to hyperventilate, and my father rushed to my side. “Calm down, Jensen. Breathe.”

  “I don’t want to calm down. He’s dead.”

  “Shhhh, shhhhh. I know sweetheart, I know.” My dad wrapped me in his arms and tried to soothe me, but I pushed back.

  “You don’t know. I’m twenty-nine years old and my husband is dead. He was the love of my life. How am I supposed to go on without him? How am I supposed to raise a child without him?”

  The door flew open, and Jeff’s family as well as Olivia came rushing in. Jeff’s mom, Doris, pushed through everyone. “We heard her screaming. What’s going on?”

  I had never seen Doris look that way. She had a hard life raising Jeff and Jeff’s sister, Megan, all by herself. She was a strong woman and had done a great job. But on that day, the day that she was to bury her son, her baby, I watched her break. She broke as she watched her son’s wife, pregnant with their unborn child crumble into a pile of nothing.

  I began to pace back and forth and sob, asking why over and over. Doris walked up to me and tried to console me, but I pushed away from her too. Olivia was the only one who kept her distance.

  I heard the pastor say, “I’m going to tell the guests we’re going to start late.” He walked out of the room while my family continued trying to calm me down. Then everything stopped and it got very quiet. A wave of pain rushed through my abdomen, and I cried out. I bent over and grabbed onto a chair to balance myself, feeling as though I couldn’t stand up anymore. I heard my family members rush to my side, but my mother got there first.

  “Jensen, honey, what is it?”

  I didn’t reply. I was hunched over and let out another cry. This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t about grief. “Something’s wrong…something’s very wrong.”

  Megan gasped, “On my God, look at the floor.” All eyes shifted to the floor, and I watched as everyone went pale. Looking back on it, I already knew what was happening, but I refused to believe it. It wasn’t until I followed their line of sight, and saw the stream of blood that I had left in my pacing wake, that reality started to sink in. I moved back and looked at my legs. Two red streams trickled down both legs. Everyone was frozen with shock until I heard a bloodcurdling scream.

  “No! Oh God! No!” It was me screaming.

  I heard my mom tell my father to
call an ambulance. I watched him take off running into the hallway.

  I fell to my knees and clutched my stomach while still screaming, “God, no…please no!”

  I felt light headed and started to sway. Megan’s husband, Todd, scooped me up. “There isn’t enough time. The hospital is only two miles away. I’m taking her.” My family watched as he carried me out of the room like a rag doll.

  I remember drifting into unconsciousness, but before I was completely gone, I heard a male voice stop Todd and tell him that he was a paramedic and could help.

  My eyes were closed and Todd’s voice was distant, but I remember hearing him say, “No, we’re just going to take her to the hospital, she’s losing too much blood. We have to get her there now.”

  I roll over and look away from the clock. Time is not my friend, and I don’t want to be reminded what today is. I’ve relived those days so many times in my head it’s like a horror movie about someone else’s life. But as much as I wish that were true, it’s not. It’s my reality. And even though it’s been a full year, everything inside of me feels the same, even though everything has changed.

  Chapter 23

  I glance at the clock again. It’s now after 9:00 a.m. The one thing I was clear on was that I didn’t want to see anyone. So I’m confused and angry when I hear a car pull into the driveway. It idles for a few seconds before the ignition shuts off. I’m tempted to climb out of bed and glance out the window to see who it might be. But then I don’t care. I have no plans to answer the door no matter who it might be.

  Another car pulls up, but this one is louder. It also idles for a few seconds, but as opposed to the ignition turning off, it remains idling. I hear a car door open and shut, and then a trunk closes, followed by another car door. I sit up in bed when I hear Nash’s voice. It’s muffled and I have to strain to hear it, but I would recognize it anywhere.

  “Who are you?” he asks.

  “The best friend. Who are you?” Olivia? Olivia is here? I have the inclination to jump up and run down to the door and let her in. I haven’t seen her since the funeral. She stayed with me until they put me in the hospital, but after that no one could reach me, and she had to go back to her job. She told me later she felt horrible about leaving, but I reassured her. I didn’t want her here. It was bad enough having other people see me absent and broken. I didn’t need her seeing it too.