by Meg Farrell
I’m so angry I couldn’t reach her. I start to cry. Eventually, I sit up and wipe the tears from my face. I take a few breaths to steady myself. It’s only a dream. I repeat the phrase over and over in my mind. Eventually, I calm enough to get out of bed. Mama would have run to me if it was really her. Wouldn’t she?
Sleeping with my hair in a towel was not one of the management techniques I learned at the spa. During my morning shower, I can’t get the imagery of that dream out of my mind. I need to talk to Irma. She can interpret for me, but I don’t want to ask her to do anything today. I need to help get them through the visitation and funeral. So many people helped me through Ryan’s that I need to pay it forward.
Styling my curls the way Monique taught me, I study it in the mirror and hope Cade will think it is as cute as I do. Giddiness bubbles up in a laugh as I think about showing my new look to him. I quickly remind myself he is going through a hard time, and I can’t get bent if he doesn’t fawn all over me. I decide on a blue, spaghetti strap sundress, and wedge sandals to wear.
I make my way down to Irma’s house and knock on the door. I wait for anyone to answer, but there isn’t one. I send Cade a text. “Hi. I came over to Irma’s as soon as I got up this morning. Nobody’s home.”
An eerie feeling crawls over my skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. I look around and decide to sit on the porch swing a little while. When it becomes clear that Cade and Irma aren’t coming home anytime soon, and with the lack of response to my text, I begin to feel like a fool. I head home.
I spend the remainder of the morning and most of the afternoon washing laundry from my trip and writing out the plan for the fresh start. I need a bank account for the life insurance money, and I need to work through a 401k rollover from work. I need to decide what the plan is after I quit.
The sun is getting low in the sky, so I grab my tea and head out on the front porch. The seasons are changing, and the air has a chill to it now. I sit with a book in my lap, not really reading until it is too dark to see the print anymore. Then it hits me, Cade never called. He never answered my text. He didn’t come over. Shaking my head, I gather my empty glass, book, and cell phone and go inside.
I know he’s dealing with so much in his life. Death isn’t easy on anyone, no matter how they try to seem tough and unaffected. I tell myself he’ll call when he’s ready. He knows where to find me.
Alone Again
It is a bright morning. Ryan and I are sitting at the kitchen table. He is staring into my eyes and holding my hand. I can see his light tan, and a smattering of a beard covering his jaw. His light brown hair is growing out.
In the distance, I hear a feminine voice. “Rhae, honey, do you want sorghum on your biscuits?”
What? “Mama? Is that you?” I look around, but all I can see is white light. I can’t see anything other than Ryan and the kitchen table. “Mama, where are you?” I shout as I look frantically for her.
“Aww, baby. I’m here. Calm down. I’m making you some biscuits. Sorghum?”
“No. I don’t want anything to eat.” Panic is filling me from my toes to my head. “Mama, let me help you!”
“The only way to help me is to help yourself. You know what needs to happen. Call your Dad. He can help. Tell Jess and Marie that I love them.”
Confused, I turn to Ryan. “Why are you here?”
He shakes his head, “You’re holding grudges. I asked you to be Melody’s friend. That’ll help you let go of the anger you have for me.”
“Everyone can kiss my ass! I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore!”
I feel tears welling up and I wake up. A dream. God, I can’t do this. These dreams are killing me. I can’t fix it. Why do they all think I can?
Several days have passed. Cade still hasn’t called me. I’m completely numb and worthless. I go to work, come home, eat, drink and sleep. I’m a living machine. My routine is a spiral into non-existence. Nothing makes sense. Going out with friends is unappealing. I don’t call anyone. I think about the fresh start plan, and then I lose focus. I spend hours thinking through every moment we spent together. Analyzing every conversation for hints of things that I did to piss Cade off. I don’t land on any one thing. I briefly consider that he’s just dealing with his grandfather’s passing. What I can’t rationalize is why he wouldn’t allow me to help him through it. I need him here.
By the end of the week, I’m more than hurt, more than numb. I’m angry. Nearly a week without a word? Nearly a week! Sucking up my pride, I decide it is high-time to do something. I need to quit my job. It occurs to me that I might hurt Bill or Alana, or maybe Lucy and Julie. Echoes of my private meeting with Irma resonate in my mind. I need to do this now. I need my mama and Ryan to rest and stop showing up in my dreams. I know if Mama is in my dreams, she’s in the dreams of Jess, Marie and Dad. They are too proud to admit they believe or that it’s possible.
Friday afternoons are when the girls and I usually get together for our Shady Lady lunch. Our time to discuss all things without barriers, borders, shame, or pride. I know that what I’m about to do may shock them, but I need them to know I love them. I need to know they will support me.
I send an e-mail:
Ladies—I don’t care what you have going on today. We are going to lunch. I don’t care where we go, but I do have requirements. The place must have good food, good music, and a quiet corner where we will not be kicked out for our normal conversational topics. See you in the lobby, regular time.
Alana and Jules stop by my desk and give me a fist pump, and a, “Hell yes.” This does nothing to let me know if they have decided where we’re going. In the meantime, I spend my morning looking as busy as possible, and accomplishing nothing.
Dee and Bill come in and we exchange pleasantries. I kill time reading old e-mails and sipping coffee. I must be on my third cup when Bill finally says, “Any particular reason you’re tanking coffee so fast? Not sleeping?”
“Uh, no. I didn’t realize I was doing it. I’ve got some things to discuss with the girls over lunch. I guess I’m a little nervous.”
“That’s right. Its ladies’ lunch day. Been a while since you guys had one of them. Coffee ain’t gonna help nerves. If anything, you’ll be shaking by the time lunch rolls around.”
“I know. Do you need help with anything this morning?” I might regret asking, but I need busy work.
“Nope. Just running queries.”
“Let me know if I can do anything.”
I decide I need a big distraction. I pop in my earbuds, load Spotify, and start a radio station from my favorite playlist. I’m checking on some of my client sites from the customer perspective when inspiration hits. Obituaries are published online these days. I don’t know Cade’s grandfather’s name, so I search Cade’s. The search engine doesn’t hit on anything except an obituary. Chester Miles, 76, Bell Hills, MS. Army veteran. Survivors: Wife, Irma Miles and grandson, Cade Miles. I read through to the arrangement announcements. Shit. The funeral was yesterday. I had no idea. Sulking had taken all my time and energy. I didn’t even notice any extra traffic on our road. I suck. Worst friend ever. I nosedive into self-pity.
“Let’s go!”
I look up and see Alana standing by my desk. Oh! Lunch with my girls. “Yeah. Let’s go.” I grab my purse and throw on my shades. I assume we’re walking, but I won’t know until we meet up with the others.
Lucy and Jules are waiting in the lobby. They both look ready for a walk. Jules is the first to speak, “We’re going to Seven Whiskeys.”
I look at her with an eyebrow raised. “We’re going to a bar for lunch?”
“We are. The non-smoking dining room downstairs should be nearly empty. The have good music, and decent bar food. What else could we ask for?”
“Fair enough,” Lucy answers.
Lucy and Jules walk a few feet ahead of Alana and I. Alana doesn’t say much on the walk. When we arrive, we get seated in the dining room Jules described. It’s dark
and dank. A small bar punctuates the room at the far end. There are blackboards hanging that list the daily specials. I read through them as the others order their drinks and food. When it’s my turn, I throw a curve ball.
“Blue Moon on draft, and I’ll have the deluxe grilled cheese with fries.”
The waitress hovers while the others exchange confused looks. “Blue moon? Draft? You sure?”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”
“Rhae, honey, we have to go back to the office. Well, unless you took off and didn’t tell us,” Alana states the obvious.
I smile. “Nope. I just don’t care anymore. I have news for you guys.” It’s moments like these that make me wish I could freeze time. I mean it’s priceless reading their faces. One is concerned. One thinks I’ve lost my marbles. The other is considering joining me for a beer.
“When I went to Florida, I did some thinking. Life has to change for me. I can’t go on pretending things are okay. They aren’t. I hate my job and the house. I don’t want to go on living where I have always lived. I want to branch out and see things. Do things.”
“Where are you going?” Lucy asks, intrigued.
“I don’t know yet.”
“What money are you going to live on? What about the house?” Jules, the practical one, asks.
“Ryan’s life insurance money. And I’m listing the house.”
There is a collective sigh from the group, and Alana reaches over to hold my hand. “Honey, we are so glad you’re doing this. We’ve been talking a lot about what’s next for you. Honestly, we thought you would crack from the strain. But this is great!”
“Really? You don’t think I’m being stupid?”
“Hell no! What does Cade say about all this?”
I look around at all of them and swallow a little pride I didn’t know was stuck in my throat. “I haven’t heard from him. I drove back from Florida last week because his grandfather died. We texted a bit while I was on vacation, but now nothing. No calls. I don’t know what’s going on with him. And as far as I’m concerned, it’s his loss. I’m going to do things without sitting around waiting for someone else to join me or approve.”
“That’s my girl!” Alana hugs me.
Lunch is delicious. We talk about Lucy’s new man because the sex at the beginning of a relationship is exciting. It’s fun to hear what’s happening in their lives. There is a book series I’ll have to add on my Kindle app later. Jules makes it sound so amazing and definitely sexy. I need a bit of that in my life right now. Hell, a dead husband and a missing would-be friend/boyfriend means I’m not getting any action anytime soon.
After my draft of Blue Moon, I drink water. No sense pushing the limits too far. When we get back to the office, I spend the afternoon sorting through personal items on my desk that I might want to take home. I make quick work of extra papers by taking them down to the recycling bin. Dragon Lady walks by and stares at me but doesn’t speak. Add that to the list of shit I won’t miss. Maybe she can take my job. I laugh out loud on that one. She is so not qualified to do what I do.
After work, I swing by the liquor store and buy caramel flavored vodka then drive to Jess’s house. Liz and Red are usually there on Fridays. I’m hoping for a good ole porch perch before I jump into my plans. Plus, I need to tell them what I’m doing.
When I arrive, Jess has CCR blaring in the house so loud she can’t hear me at the door. I let myself in and run straight into Miss Jillian. I hug her tight and sling her up on my hip. We get into the kitchen where Jess is singing into her chili spoon like a microphone. Jillian giggles and breaks Jess’s concentration. We all laugh so hard tears fill our eyes. “Bitch!” Jess yells at me between gasps for air.
“I’m sorry. I just came for the porch perch.”
“You know you’re always welcome for that. Jilly, go wash your hands, so you can eat. What’s in the brown bag?”
“You know what’s in this bag. You got Coke?”
She nods and keeps cooking. I mix a drink, then head out on the porch to watch the sunset. Connor has wired speakers so that whatever she’s playing in the house also plays on the porch. There is no escaping CCR tonight. Ever.
Liz and red join me on the porch a little bit later. Jess brings out bowls of chili. It really is still too hot to eat chili, but none of us complain. Jess makes due with what they’ve got, and she does a good job with it. I know we need to eat, too. It’ll help absorb alcohol.
After dinner and playing around, we are sitting on the porch singing Skynyrd. I drift off to a trance while the girls talk. The bug light is, all of a sudden, the most interesting thing I have ever seen. Jess snaps me back to the conversation. “So, what made you want to join porch night anyway?”
“Ah, well, I’m going to sell the house and quit my job. Wanted to let you ladies know what I’m doing.”
“You’re what?” she asks, incredulous.
“Selling stuff. Quitting.” I drink more vodka. I quit bothering with the Coke as a mixer a few drinks ago. Walking to the kitchen just isn’t worth the effort.
“Have you talked to Dad?”
“Not yet. But I’m meeting a real estate agent tomorrow, and I plan to quit on Monday.”
“You have no direction, limited income from the life insurance, and now no place to live. What part of that sounds like a good idea? You have lost your mind.” Her volume has gone up progressively with each statement, and her face is beet red. Jess is pissed. I didn’t expect this reaction.
“All of it!” I yell back for emphasis. I’m nothing if not hard-headed. “You try going to a job that makes you feel useless, walk into a house that reminds you of everything you’ve lost, and live in the same city with the mistress of your dead husband. You tell me what you would do.”
“All right. Stop this,” Red speaks up. “Jess, she’s doing what she thinks she needs to do. Rhae, she’s just looking out for you. No fighting on porch night.”
“I’m sorry, honey. I worry you’ll end up homeless and broke. Nowhere to go kinda thing,” Jess confesses.
“I love you, Jessi-Poo! If I end up homeless, I can always live with you and Connor. Jilly loves me.”
We laugh off our tiff and toast my assumptions.
a
I wake up Saturday morning with a pain in my left cheek. Oh, shit that hurts. My mouth feels like Velcro, and my head is so heavy I’m not sure I can lift it. My eyes are definitely burning out of my head. What the fuck is happening? I scrunch my face up and fight against the urge to move. Everything hurts! Continuing my assessment of the situation, I smell coffee. I’m just mustering the courage to turn my head when someone kicks me in my ass. “Get up, heifer!”
“Ughhhhhh, Jess. Help me. I’m stuck.” I try to swallow, but my throat is sandpaper raw.
Jess reaches down and helps peel me off the porch. My cheek is stuck to the panels with my own drool. It is as sticky as duct tape. I think I leave skin on the floor when she finally gets me up. God love her, she passes me my shades and a cup of coffee. I ball up in the corner chair in the last piece of shade on the porch. I sip my coffee carefully as to not burn my tongue. It has been a long, long time since I had a hangover. This is beyond a hangover. This is the hangover a hangover gets.
“How much did I drink? How did I end up sleeping on the porch?”
“Well, you polished off the bottle of vodka you brought, and against my better advice, you let Liz tease you into drinking tequila. You declared you had to pee, and when you stood up, you landed face down on the porch. We were scared to death until we heard you snore. I have to tell ya’, we laughed until Red nearly peed herself. Never saw you like that, baby girl.”
“Glad I could provide some entertainment,” I grouse. “Everything hurts. Even my hair.”
“Aw, don’t be a spoiled sport. Anyway, we decided it was a good time of year, and we could let you sleep there without worrying about you. We were right. Here you are, just fine.”
“I would not say I’m fine. Not even cl
ose. More coffee.”
“Shower, then more coffee. I left a pair of shorts and a T-shirt on the guest bed. Go.”
I do as I’m told because it sounded heavenly. When I finish and emerge from the bedroom, Jess hands me more coffee and ibuprofen. “What time are you meeting the real estate agent?”
“Holy shit, Jess! What time is it?” I hadn’t thought about the things on my list today.
“It’s almost noon.”
“Great. I need to get going. The agent is coming over at one. Thanks for everything.”
The agent is at the house when I pull up. She’s apparently been here a few minutes because she’s walking around taking pictures of the exterior and making notes on things she wants me to do to improve the curb appeal.
After we tour the inside, and let her get pictures and measurements, she tells me what she wants to list the house for. It all sounds good to me.
Feeling like she’s just about finished, and before I sign the agent agreement, I fill her in on my one rule, “No low ball offers. Don’t even bring them to me. I am pricing the house very reasonably and I do not want low ball offers.”
She agrees and is gone. The whole meeting took about forty-five minutes. Now what do I do with my day? I’m not good with downtime because it allows me to dwell on things I shouldn’t. I decide to start packing a few things. I won’t take the boxes with me, but at least I’ll be that far ahead when the house does sell. When I’m finished, I run to the grocery store for some dinner. Because of the prior evening, I decide I’ve had enough alcohol for one weekend, so I avoid buying the beer that’s calling my name.
Saturday night is filled with more of the same dreams. Ryan and Mama lecturing me about grudges, friends, forgiveness, and the sisters. Nothing I’ve done so far is getting me any relief from my nighttime terrors. After the third such dream in the same night, I sit up and drink coffee while trying to read a book. No wonder I’m doing so much drinking. Without Cade around, it’s the only way I’m getting any sleep. Cade. There’s an ache in my chest when I think about him or imagine his face.
