by Meg Farrell
I take a minute to think about what my options might be. Finally, I say, “My sleeveless green V-neck top and gray dress pants.”
“Hon, you sure about that?” Red looks at me, puzzled. “People will talk. You should at least wear...”
“No,” I cut her off. “I’m sure. Ryan loved that outfit. He picked it out for me. I also need all my silver jewelry.”
Liz nods. “I’m on it. Back in twenty minutes.”
“Liz. Flats. I can’t wear heels today.” I repeat for emphasis.
“Yes, ma’am. I can do it. Give me the keys to your house.”
Jess speaks up, “They are in her purse by the front door.”
With that, Liz is gone. Marie comes back and sets a tray in front of me as I lower myself into the chair Red had been sleeping in last night. I don’t even look as Jess starts to feed me pieces of food like a toddler in a high chair. I mechanically open my mouth and eat what she gives me. Salty, sweet... has to be a piece of ham. As I chew and swallow a few bites, something wakes me up, and I am suddenly very hungry. Taking over from Jess, I force down some ham, macaroni, and a roll. Lord, thank you for sweet, fake, southern women trying to feed everyone. I drink a little iced tea—thank God that Marie knows I like it unsweetened—and then I sit back. I sigh, slightly content, and then look over at Red, Jess and Marie sitting in a line on the bed. They are talking to each other and not really paying attention to me anymore.
It makes me think of when we were young girls and Mom would dress us for church. She would line all three of us up according to age. We had the same hair, matching dresses, white gloves, slips and hose. No matter how hot it was, we dressed right for church. She meant business when it came to proper appearances. She would be frustrated with my choice in outfits today.
I laugh out loud a little bit. The girls look over, and I guess my smile is a little out of place. They make concerned faces at me. I can’t share with them what they look like. They would definitely believe I had lost it. A familiar numb feeling crawls through my fingers into my chest and down to my toes. Ah, thanks, Jess. Thanks for keeping your promise. The feelings are fading. Before I know it, Liz is back with the outfit I requested.
The girls leave me alone to get dressed. I still don’t look in the mirror. Going by feel, I ensure my pants are zipped and my top sits right on top of my hips. I check the ladies to be sure there is no bra sticking out, and that the ladies are sitting properly with no excess skin exposed. I slip my shoes on and head to the door. I put my hand on the bannister and make my way down the stairs. I find the girls in the kitchen. I’m stunned at what I see. Holy Lord! There are a lot of casseroles. The girls are discussing what to do with all of the food. Marie has already put my favorites in the freezer for later, but the freezer is full. These women are serious about feeding grief.
“Take some home. Everyone. Good Lord, that’s a lot of food.” All four of my caretakers start laughing at me.
“Yep. Bitch is numb again!” Jess declares with an evil grin.
“Are you guys ready to go? What time are we supposed to be there?” I ask.
Marie approaches me slowly. “The funeral home is sending a car. We are going to ride together if that’s all right.”
“Sure. Sure. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Where’s Connor?”
“He already headed out. He’s going to help your dad make sure everything is ready and happens on schedule. We know how you get about that stuff. Just a little built-in stress reducer,” Red explains.
We decide to sit in the kitchen until the car arrives. It is far too quiet. I really hate sitting in a silence that turns awkward. They are trying hard not to make things awkward for me, but there really is no helping it. I, myself, tend to be very awkward. I get lost in my own thoughts, and before I realize it, the car is there. The driver is an older man, I vaguely remember meeting him at the funeral home during the visitation. He has on a black suit and nods to me. He makes me uncomfortable with the nod. I give him a small smile and dutifully get in the car.
Our drive to the funeral home is quiet. The silence is unnerving. It isn’t until we arrive that the others seem to come alive. Everyone helps check the others’ makeup and ensure no one is near any type of wardrobe malfunction. Everyone gets out of the car except Jess and me. She holds me back to talk, and she starts off with a hug. This is weird; she must have something prepared to say.
“I promised not to let you feel anything. But this is a goodbye you don’t get to do over again. This is like saying goodbye to Mom, only ten times harder. You need to say goodbye to Ryan. It will eat you alive if you don’t.”
I consider what she is saying and what she isn’t. “Okay.”
“Do you know what I’m telling you? I can’t keep you numb once we get out of the car. You need to feel some of this. Okay?”
“Okay.”
She puts her hands on my shoulders, and looks at me sternly, “Okay. That’s it? You’re ready?”
“Yep. Let’s go.”
We step out into the July heat. I can smell rain. Usually rain is so scarce this time of year, and the change in atmosphere has a distinct smell. I turn my head to the sun and close my eyes. I think—in some ways—I’m taking in the sun, letting it warm me, and in other ways, I’m just buying time to stabilize my knees so I can walk. Jess notices but doesn’t say anything. She puts her arm around my waist and lets me lean on her for a minute. Dad comes out the back door and over to us. He hugs Jess, then me.
I don’t want to, but I look into his eyes. “Hey, Daddy.”
“Hey, Rhae. You ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.” I try to smile and come up with a half-smile, just the corner turning up a little bit. My eyes feel so heavy, and I blink back more tears.
“Let’s go say goodbye.”
He gives me his elbow. I straighten my back and force strength into my legs. I take his arm just like I had five years ago when I married Ryan. I think his words then were, “Let’s go get your husband.” The symmetry of these moments is almost overwhelming. Thank God the pill Jess had given me earlier is still working, somewhat. Pushing the emotions back down, I let my dad lead me to a room that has two small sliding doors with inset stained glass. Jess, who had been walking with us, drops back. I see her over my shoulder, the other girls standing with her. My girls are all shoulder to shoulder watching Dad walk me into that room.
I take a deep breath and face forward. I hold Dad’s elbow a little tighter. He reaches over and puts his other hand on top of mine. We stop, and the doors are closed behind us. Dad faces me, and tenderly wipes tears off my face. He starts to lead me to the open casket at the far side of the room. Panic bubbles up in my throat and I stop walking. I can’t see Ryan like this. Lifeless. Motionless. Painted up so his skin doesn’t look gray. I know his light tan will look horrible. His hair won’t be shiny, and I won’t be able to see his amazing eyes. No. I’m not doing this. Why do people want to view their loved ones this way?
“Daddy. I can’t. I just can’t do this.” I start pulling back from him. Digging my heels in like a two-year-old throwing a tantrum.
He looks torn. His eyes soften. “I understand, baby. The doctor thinks it will help you have closure if you can see him now.”
I continue trying to pull away from him. “I can’t!”
“Stop pulling, honey. I won’t make you go over there if you don’t want to. Just don’t hurt yourself pulling on me.”
“In my head, he’s alive. Warm. Moving. His eyes and hair shine. His skin is tan. He is full of life.” I start crying again.
My dad pulls me to him in a tight hug. “Screw the doctor. I agree with you. This doesn’t do you any good. Let’s go.”
He walks me to the main area of the funeral home. We sit on the front pew with my sisters. People are still coming in and talking with each other. Marie goes to man the door as the family representative. My dad keeps his arm around me the entire time. At some point my mother-in-law arrives. Liz scoots down to make
room for her by me in the pew. I reach over and take her hand. The three of us sit like a connected puzzle until everyone is seated.
Ryan’s casket is rolled in. The guest of honor has arrived. The first song played is “Bravado” by Rush. His favorite. I’m glad Jess remembered the CD when we came to the funeral home. My guess is Connor knew to tell Jess about this song.
Then the pastor begins, “Ryan Walker Wells. Born September 13, 1983. Survived by his wife of five years, Rhae.” I cringe and squeeze my dad’s hand. A tissue is placed in my other hand. Gwen, my mother-in-law, tries to find a smile for me. She is fighting crying too hard for it to work, though. I pat her hand and give her a sincere smile.
“Thank you.” Is all I can squeak out. She nods and holds my hand again. She is such a tender, sweet lady. I haven’t stopped stewing in my own misery long enough to consider hers. Her only son is gone. I don’t have children with Ryan, not for lack of trying. But I have my sisters, and if something happened to me, my dad would still have them. Gwen lost Ryan’s dad when Ryan was a teenager. Now she has lost Ryan too. I don’t know how she is able to function. I am such a mess. Why haven’t I been thoughtful enough to reach out to her before today?
Again, lost in my own thoughts, I don’t hear the rest of what the pastor says. A lady from Ryan’s work sings “Amazing Grace.” No doubt that one would be played; so predictable. I sigh. Ryan’s childhood friend stands at the front of the room and plays an acoustic version of a song they had written together. There are other people to speak. There are other songs. The stress exhausts me so completely that I fall asleep leaning against my dad. He is so comforting to me right now. Next thing I know, he is helping me to stand and walking me to the car at the back door.
I look up at him sleepily. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I didn’t mean to...”
“Don’t be sorry. I’m glad you found enough peace to sleep for a minute.” He hugs me and whispers in my ear, “We are going to the graveside now. Let’s get in the car.”
I nod numbly and do as I’m told. Liz hands me a drink. I toss it back. I’m just handing the glass back when Jess sits down and scowls at the girls. I reach over and hug her before she can roast them for feeding me alcohol. I lay my head on her shoulder. Marie and Dad slide in beside me.
Thankfully the graveside portion of the service is fast. It starts raining. I knew it would; I could smell it coming. Mama taught me that. Plus, I think my dad told the funeral director to stop dragging it out. While we sit at the service, people walk by, pulling roses off the casket arrangement, and hand them to me. I have more in my arms than I can carry. When we get back to Jess’s house, we put them in a couple different vases and place them around the house. I stumble my way upstairs to put on pajamas, brush my teeth, and fall into bed. It is all I want, and I do it unceremoniously and without grace.
The Last Day
As I lay in the bed, I begin to think through the details of the accident. The moment that changed everything is replaying again. I think about that entire day, actually. I close my eyes, hoping for a glimpse of Ryan.
Ryan and I are making love. It is always so good. He looks at me with such love and adoration. It’s like I’m his whole world. It makes pride burst in my chest because he is my whole world. I hope I convey my love through the look I’m giving him now. I could feel his love for me down to my toes. It always made me think of my insane coworker, Nancy. She would see us together and say, “That man loves your dirty drawers. Know that.” I know it. I really do.
We cuddle for a long time after; maybe an hour or so. I don’t always take note of time like I should, I guess. He kisses my forehead and gets up to shower. I am not a morning person. I roll over, wrapping the best bits of me in a sheet, but leave my legs hanging out where the ceiling fan and box fan can circulate some air. The heat is so bad, especially for this early in the day. I fall back asleep. After a while, I feel Ryan sit on the edge of the bed. God that man smells so good. My sleepy body somehow manages to sit itself up and nuzzle into his shoulder while he hugs me.
“Go back to sleep. I’ll see you this afternoon.”
“Okay. Be careful, please. And don’t be too late we are meeting Reese and Carrie for dinner.”
He groans and rolls his eyes. “Sure. Sure. Not too late. If I’m late you can kill Connor.”
“I won’t have to. I’ll get Jess to do it. Just one phone call.”
“Geez, you and your sister are vicious. I’ll see you later.”
I flop back on the bed. Within a few minutes, I’m too hot to lay there. Sucks to have central air conditioning and two fans blowing, but still be hot enough to sweat. It’s the last Saturday in June. The really hot season here isn’t until August. Why the hell is it so hot so early in the season? I consider my options for the day. I could go grab Jess while the boys worked. We could go shopping or swimming. Ugh.
Shopping sounds hot. Maybe I could lay naked under a fan and read for a while first. Yep. That’s what I want to do. Read, then call the girls and see if they want to meet for drinks and swimming. Liz is the best hostess with a pool. Then we can call the boys to bring dinner and we could hang out all night. Reese and Carrie won’t mind changing dinner plans to pool plans. That’s just the kinds of friends I have. Flexible. We have to be to live in this heat like we do. I send Carrie a text.
I grab a T-shirt and some underwear. I can’t bring myself to lay around naked without Ryan being involved. I make sure the fans are on their highest speed and head into the kitchen. Ice water. Lots of ice water. On my way back into the bedroom, I grab a well-worn book off the shelf and then lie on the bed. It is nice. I start reading. This is one of my favorite romances.
I read until well after two p.m. My cell phone breaks my concentration with a “quack, quack, quack.” Shit. Jess changed my ringtone again. I roll my eyes and answer it.
“Hey, Red.”
“Let’s call Liz and go swimming.”
“You read my mind. You call Jess. I’ll get dressed.”
“Got it. Bring the left-over beer in your fridge.”
“Got it.”
I haul my butt off the bed and get a quick shower. I always feel better after a shower. Who cares that we were headed swimming? At least I won’t put more scuzz in the pool. I dress in my bathing suit and cut off shorts. I use one of Ryan’s white undershirts as a cover for my bathing suit and slide into a pair of sandals. I grab my SPF 100 sunblock, the beer and head out.
It takes me about thirty minutes to get to Liz’s house. She lives in the middle of nowhere. She doesn’t even live inside city limits. She is in an unincorporated part of the county. Her property is surrounded by old shade trees, and it is comforting to be out in the woods with her. Liz and Jess are out by the pool already when I get there. They have a cooler of beer, wine coolers, and watermelon with them. I can almost taste the watermelon the instant I see it. I bound up the steps of the deck and settle my beer contribution in the ice with theirs.
Looking over the yard and taking a deep breath, I see Liz’s kids swinging on the tree swing. They are happy as larks swinging and laughing with wild abandon. I wonder what they’re talking about. My sisters and I used to make up all kinds of stories to make time pass. Laurie and Cooper were the spitting image of their mama. Lean with dark brown hair, and tall for their ages. I had been there when they were born, and I love being a babysitter for them from time to time.
“Hey, bitch,” Liz drawls. She sounds like she’s almost asleep on the lounger.
“What’s up? Hey, Jess. Where are the boys?”
Jess scoffs. “Ryan is teaching Connor something technical. He’ll probably only remember enough to be dangerous to the routers and shit. Is Red coming?”
“Yeah. She called me before I left. She should be here soon.”
I slide out of my shirt and shorts, and slather on the sunblock to Liz’s amusement. “I’m telling you! Just burn and get it over with. You’ll tan after.”
“The hell she will. She burns for a few day
s, and then she’s ghostly white again.” Jess jumps in to defend my sunblock regimen.
I laugh at them both. Jess is right as usual. I do burn easily, and then I’m Casper-the-ghost pale again. No point in hurting and getting skin cancer.
I lay back on the pool chair and enjoy the sun with a slight cool breeze. It feels so good. Somehow cooler than the air conditioning at home. I need to tell Ryan to get a guy out to check it when we got home tonight. I take a brief nap laying there sunning. Eventually Red arrives, and we jump in the pool. Jess and Liz want no part of it yet. Those bitches are too busy browning nicely. Red and I are always jealous of them. Oh well. Swimming is fun. We do laps, flips, and float. You would think we were kids again. Eventually, we conspire to splash the others. It is hilarious. Liz and Jess cuss us so bad all we can do is laugh until we are crying.
It is nearly dark when I realize the boys aren’t here yet. Jess is on it. She calls Connor. He is on his way after stopping to pick up some chicken. No one wants to cook, and cold fried chicken is as good as anything else.
“Jess! Find out where Ryan is,” I call to her from the water.
She waves her hand at me and goes back to talking. I assume either Connor has volunteered the information, or she plans to ask herself. I go back to floating while she wraps up the phone call. I drift around until I get to the edge. Jess is standing there, looking down into the water.
“What?” I ask.
“Call Ryan. He left our house around four p.m. He should be here by now.”
“I’m sure he went home and got wrapped up in a video game/guitar/project thing. Hand me my phone.” I pop myself out of the water and sit on the side with my feet dangling.
She hands me a towel first. I dry my face and hands, then reach for the phone. I call Ryan, and it rings through to voicemail. That’s odd. I try again. Maybe he’s playing guitar and can’t hear it.
Connor arrives and kisses Jess. He puts ice and beer in the cooler. They are talking about the day, and I am redialing Ryan’s phone. This is the fourth try. I am starting to get worried. Even playing a psychedelic riff that blends into a twenty-five-minute song wouldn’t take him this long to answer the phone.
