by Meg Farrell
“Yep. Let’s do this.” I grab my duffel bag and sack of dirty laundry out of the back seat. Red takes my keys and goes up to unlock my front door.
Taking each step with caution, I start to think I may not be ready for this after all. Ryan’s things and memories of him fill this house. We drop my stuff in the entry. It needs to be sorted out anyway. Inhaling a deep breath, I hope it’ll make me feel settled as I look around. I’m struck by how everything seems stale. Then I realize stale is probably the wrong word. Putrid is more like it.
“What the hell is that smell?” I grab my nose and step backward and bump into Red who is also holding her nose.
Red is moving quickly to get the windows open. “Smells like something went bad in the fridge.”
“Lord help me! That is awful. C’mon, let’s get some gloves and bleach water made.”
“I’m miles ahead of you!” Red hands me a pair of latex gloves from under the sink.
We both pull our T-shirts over our noses. Then we carefully approach the refrigerator and open the door. We jump backward and grab onto each other as if something might jump out. Nothing does, thankfully. There are leftovers containers growing like science projects. Really? All these people looking after me and no one wanted to come check my house? I shake my head at the thought.
“The fridge doesn’t feel very cold.” Red points out.
I check by placing my hand against the wall inside. Sure enough, it’s room temperature, if not warmer. “Good call. Guess I need Connor to come over and check it. Just what I needed.”
“I’m not washing that,” Red says pointing to a container which once held spaghetti sauce. “I’m not even opening it long enough to scrape it out, so the dishwasher can wash it.” She looks like she’s about to gag.
“Toss it. Toss all of it. I’ll get new containers.” I shake my head, again. Seems like that’s all I’ve got.
She starts throwing things away and taking the trash out back for me while I start scrubbing the fridge with the bleach water. Then I move on to mopping the floor for good measure. Red starts dusting. I guess the house is stale to her too. Next, we gather laundry to start a load. While the laundry runs, we head to my bedroom. Standing in the doorway of my bedroom, I’m paralyzed. I can’t even form a thought, Red brushes past me and starts pulling the sheets off the bed, and I’m thankful she does. Overwhelming memories of Ryan and I there on the day he died swim through my mind. My chest aches and butterflies fill my stomach. I’m afraid I might start crying, so I start swallowing huge gulps of air to abate the tears.
Red gathers the sheets and some towels out of the bathroom. As we head back to the laundry room, there is a knock. Red and I exchange a look. I shrug, and she returns it. She passes me the dirty laundry and heads to see who’s at the door.
“Hey, bitch!” Red says when she opens the door. I peek around the corner from the kitchen to see who it might be.
“Same to you. What are you doing here?” Liz answers.
I walk toward the front door.
“I brought a little pick-me-up for our girl.” Liz steps in and Red closes the door behind her. Liz looks at me and a devilish grin spreads across her face. “You ready?”
“What should I be ready for again?”
“Your ‘Welcome Home’ bash. Duh. Let me guess, Jess didn’t say anything?”
A small chuckle escapes as I shake my head, “No, she didn’t. I guess she’ll be here any minute.”
“And you know this. Now, what can I do to help freshen up the house?”
I direct her to vacuum the living room carpet, and then water my house plants. The poor schefflera is looking ill. Liz jumps right in—after putting the vodka in the freezer. Jess blows in and starts by cleaning my ceiling fans and straightening my bookcases. When we cross paths, she grabs my arm and pulls me aside from the others.
“Listen, you need to know, Marie is coming over. She has casseroles from her freezer to drop off. I don’t want you to be mean to her.”
My mouth drops open at the implication. “Jess, really? Mean? I’m cold, maybe impersonal, but not mean.”
“You’re mean when you don’t realize it. She’s sorry about what happened, but she won’t apologize. She just thinks your hard-headed ass will just drop it. Will you?”
“No. I won’t. But I will be polite. Will that work?”
“I can’t ask more than that, I guess.”
I shrug, “Anyway, my fridge is broken. If she brings those casseroles over, someone has to take them home.”
Jess groans and fishes out her cell phone. She calls her husband to come look at the fridge.
We keep working through the house. Taking turns rotating laundry. It really only takes another hour to scrub everything. Marie arrives shortly after we finish working.
We decide it’s time to have some dinner. The five of us worked in my tiny kitchen to reheat a casserole, make rolls, a gallon of unsweetened tea, and dessert. Before we can sit down to eat, Connor walks in with a toolbox and a big grin. He sets to work as we go out to sit on my back porch for a while.
We pass the evening eating and laughing. It seems everyone is forcing the conversation around the elephant in the room. Ryan. While I can appreciate their concern, and willingness to avoid he subject, my mind won’t let me. I feel the mental separation from my group of friends as I think back to our anniversary, which we celebrated on this very porch.
I text Ryan. “Hey hot stuff.”
He replies quickly, as usual, “Hey yourself. Whatcha doin’?”
“What else? Working.”
“Awww, sorry baby. Happy Anniversary!”
“Happy Anniversary to you! Listen, today sucks. Would you mind if we don’t cook tonight? Maybe we can go out somewhere.” I was hoping for a steak dinner somewhere.
“Sure. Just let me know what you want to do. I already have post-dinner plans.”
My breath catches, and I start grinning like a maniac, reading his response. Feeling devilish, I write him back, “Really? Can you share? ;)”
“I could, but it would make work a little tougher for you.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, I would think you couldn’t sit still if I started outlining my plans.”
I am already having a tough time focusing. “You’re right. I’ll see you tonight. Love you!”
“Love you too!!”
When I get home, he is nowhere to be seen. “Ryan! Where are you? Should I change clothes? Where are we eating?” There is no answer. I start walking room to room, looking for him. Maybe he was in his studio/man-cave working on something. I peek inside. No Ryan. Where the hell could he be? I kick off my shoes and pad toward the back door. I step out and lights came on.
“What is this?” I look around slowly at the paper lanterns and white Christmas lights strung across the porch and down to the huge oak in the back yard. It is like he made a faux gazebo out of the lights. Before I can take it all in, he slides his arms around my waist and kisses my neck.
“What did you do?”
He laughs. “You like it?”
“Of course I like it! Who did it?” I look over my shoulder, so I can see his face.
He slides his hands up to my shoulders and starts rubbing the tension out of my neck. He smiles and feigns offense. “Uh, I did it.”
“No, really. Who did it? You had to work today.”
He laughs louder. “I did it. I took a vacation day. Our anniversary is too important to mess up. With you having a sucky day, I asked for a day off and came home to do this for you. I have dinner too.”
“I have to say, sir, I’m shocked. Pleased. Surprised. Shocked. I love it!”
He kisses me, then clicks on the porch radio. Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon fills the tiny space. He pulls me into his arms and we begin to dance; although, he’s never been much of a dancer. Ryan knows I always wanted to be twirled around like they did in old black and white movies. For my benefit, he would try from time to time.
Bac
k when I left to go to college, he gave me a remastered version of this CD. Little did he know I had also stolen one of his flannel shirts. I wrapped the shirt around the pillow and would fall asleep cuddling it while listening to the CD. It was almost enough to make living in the dorms bearable. It was a long semester being away from him. We ran up crazy phone bills trying to talk every day. In the end, I had given up and moved home to attend college at a campus closer to him. Maybe it wasn’t a smart decision to base my life choices on the guy I was dating, but I just knew we would end up together in the end.
After we dance, we eat. After that, we fall into our bed and worship each other with an enthusiastic appreciation. Ryan’s hands sear and his lips scorch as he explores my body. Years together and still it always feels new when he makes love to me. Like it is his first time looking at my body or touching me, every time.
I’m pulled from my thoughts by a shrill squeal. Bewildered, and looking around I see Liz has Marie pinned, and is tickling her in the middle of the porch. Contagious laughter breaks out as we are laughing so hard we are tearing up. As the party winds down, I start yawning. Red notices.
“Okay, ladies. Our girl is tired. Let’s clean up and get out of here so she can get to bed,” Red announces, taking charge, as usual.
Everyone mumbles and shuffles around picking up plates and glasses. We wash dishes and fold all the laundry we washed earlier. One by one, they start leaving. Red is the last one in the house with me. We put fresh linens on my bed. I have to turn off all thought just to get through that chore. Apparently, she notices that too. She’s so observant lately.
“I’m staying with you tonight.”
“No. That isn’t necessary. Go home. I’ve got this under control.”
“What? You don’t like having me over for sleepovers anymore?” She smirks with mock offense.
I smile knowingly, “Of course I like having you here. You’re welcome to stay as long as we can fall in this bed in the next ten minutes and sleep late tomorrow. You should also know, if you stay, I’m putting your ass to work tomorrow.”
Her eyebrows draw in as the corners of her mouth turn down. “Okay, what are we doing?” She smooths the comforter and walks around to make sure it is even on all sides.
“Jess thinks I should stretch this out as long as possible, but I’m cleaning out Ryan’s things tomorrow. I have to.”
“You’ll get no arguments from me. Just tell me what we’re doing, and I’ll be happy to help.”
“Thanks. I knew I could count on you.”
It feels like we literally fall into the bed. It’s not long before I hear Red snoring. Yikes. I probably shouldn’t tell anyone she snores like that. It is highly unladylike. I laugh to myself. I’m actually starting to get jealous; I can’t seem to sleep. Sleep and I aren’t on the best of terms these days. I mean, while I was at Jess’s, I slept okay, but now I’m not sleeping at all. I’m sure it’s all the anxiety and busyness from moving back into the house. Plus, I’m not chemically numbing myself anymore. There must be some residual effect from all of that. Then again, I’m not exhausting my body crying myself to sleep either.
I think back to when I was a kid and couldn’t sleep. My dad would tell me to close my eyes and imagine a blind being drawn over a window. “Just picture it. A blind comes down and blacks out the entire room. No light. No sound. Just you in the dark. Breathing deeply. Breathe in the sleep, breathe out the stress.” It has never failed. So, as I lay next to Red and stare at the ceiling fan, I repeat my dad’s words to myself. Over and over, I say them. Hoping to dull my mind into sleep. My dad’s sure-fire sleep plan fails me.
I sigh and get out of bed, carefully, so I don’t disturb Red. I tip-toe into the living room, avoiding all the noisy creaks in our floor. I grab a glass of water and pull a book off the shelf. I have read this one many times, but I’m hopeful it can calm my mind and distract me enough to help me sleep.
It seems like I just sat down when I see sunlight peeking through the windows on the front of the house. I’m nearly done with the book. Crap. Tons of things to do today and no sleep. I take a deep breath, stretch, and then put the book back on my shelf. I head to the kitchen and start making us breakfast. I think we’ll have coffee, eggs, and bacon. Red wanders in as I get the bacon going.
“Mmmm, smells great. I thought we were sleeping in this morning?”
I shrug and roll my eyes. “Yeah, that would require being able to sleep. You’re welcome to go back to bed if you want.”
“Nah, I’ll start the grits for you.”
“Thanks.”
We finish making breakfast together. As we eat, I outline everything we needed to get done today. She nods along as I run down my list. It is a lot, but I need to finish laying Ryan to rest in every possible way, so I can move on with life. What moving on means? I’m not really sure. I just know what I needs to be done today. Tomorrow will tell me what needs to happen tomorrow. I can only get through one day at a time. I also need to call work at some point.
This isn’t going to be fun. I love my job, but I’m still so unsure of facing all the sympathetic, gossiping, fake faces at work. Red and I finish eating in companionable silence. We clean the kitchen and start on my to-do list for the day.
Visitors
Two months, eight weeks, have passed since Ryan died. I haven’t returned to work yet. I did call Dee, my boss, and she granted me some more time off after having the inevitable, “Take all the time you need,” discussion. Sympathy and I’m sorry talks drive me insane. Having exhausted all the time Dee granted me, and wanting to avoid any further discussions about everything, I have decided to return to work tomorrow.
Sitting in my recliner, drinking coffee, I take in all the empty spaces around me. Ripping down pictures and mementos had left an unmistakable mark of loneliness. I had no idea it would look and feel this empty. I hope the CDs don’t turn into puddles of plastic under the heat in the attic. I planned to give them away or have a yard sale, but I just didn’t feel like it yet. Giving things away meant I would have to face more of Ryan’s family and friends. It’s still too soon.
The YMCA was happy to get all the sports equipment I donated. Honestly, I never paid attention to how much the man loved playing sports. Not that he was exceptional at any of them, but he did like getting together with friends and trying to play. One part of me thinks I should feel guilty for getting rid of all of Ryan’s things, but I don’t feel bad about my donations since I’ll never use those things. It’s been years since I played on the church softball team. Turns out I am not cut out for church league anyway. I am far too competitive. It never ended well when the game didn’t go my way. I laugh just thinking about the last game we played together. Ryan had to pick me up and take me off the field. I give poor loser a whole new meaning.
I study my little notepad as I drink my coffee. I’m a list maker. There, I said it. I have lists for everything. It doesn’t make me a control freak. Okay, yeah, it does. Today’s list is all about what needs to happen, so I can successfully return to work tomorrow. On the one hand, I’m looking forward to normal. On the other, I’m going to have to face my coworkers and my least favorite of all, the Dragon Lady. I never look forward to seeing her.
I need to call Jess to see if she has any updates from the insurance company. Ryan had a hefty life insurance policy with his employer. We never planned on dying, but since it was in his benefits package, he had signed up. Jess said the HR lady from his job told her he had a 401k with them. Ryan listed me as the beneficiary on that too. Just add this to the list of things about Ryan that I never knew.
Adding to my list, I need to figure out what I’m wearing to work tomorrow. I’m sure I’ve either lost or gained weight with all that’s been happening, and I’ll need to try on my work clothes. It occurs to me that I should be bright, but not perky. I should be grieving, but not depressed. I should be a little sad, but not enough to draw more sympathy. I definitely shouldn’t appear to be too over the whole situat
ion so soon. What is the appropriate grieving period? In the old days, they would grieve for like a year, I think. I can’t imagine Ryan, or anyone, would really want me to grieve him for that long. Am I not supposed to be getting on with my life? I mean, I didn’t die. He did. Why do people think there is some magical mold that someone who is grieving, after a death, is supposed to fit into? I have never fit any mold. Why would this be different?
If they think badly of me or judge me, that’s their problem. It shouldn’t even be a concern. I should wear the brightest, happiest outfit I own. A yellow dress with a full skirt that Ryan loved. That’ll get them talking for sure. They don’t know how I’m dealing with all of this. “That’s my girl.” I could hear Ryan’s voice just beaming in the back of my mind. “Always so tough.” I’m grinning and laughing to myself when my cell phone starts going off. I look at the phone’s display before answering. It’s Jess calling. I guess she has an update for me after all. I cross calling Jess off my list. “Hey! What’s up?”
“Hey. I talked to the insurance agent, and they are sending you a check. It’s coming FedEx, requires a signature, and should be in around Thursday.”
“That’s great. Thanks for handling that for me. I have no idea what I would say to an insurance person, and I might screw up. Are you okay? How’s Jilly?”
“Well, she misses you, and she talks about Ryan every day.” She sighs and hesitates for a moment. “We’re having a hard time getting her to understand he won’t be around anymore.”
I take a deep, shaky breath. Talking about him hurts. I always feel a sharp, stinging ache in the middle of my chest at the mention of his name. She must have sensed my distress.
“Oh God, Rhae! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean that to sound so... casual.”
“No. It’s fine. I have to get used to this at some point.”
“I know, but I’m still sorry. Connor and I decided to stop talking to her about him. We figure, at her age, she’ll eventually stop. Plus, we can always explain everything to her when she’s older.”
