by Lori L. Otto
I nod, thinking silently to myself, staring across the room until I lose focus. All this talk of children... just makes me... sad. I clutch my stomach and a tear escapes from my eye.
“I’m sorry,” Jack says. “Did I say something...”
“She’s fine,” Chris interrupts before I can respond. I nod and confirm that I’m okay. I’m guessing he doesn’t know about the child I lost in the accident.
“Hey, Emi,” Teresa calls from the couch. “We’re all going to go dancing. Do you guys want to come?”
I look at Chris and Anna, and they shake their heads. I don’t really want to go either. The sleepless night seems to be catching up with me. “No, I’m pretty tired. I think we’ll just stay here.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure, Teresa. Go out, have fun.” I feel a little bad about my anti-social behavior. I just feel like I’ve been out of our social circle for so long that I’m having a hard time fitting back in. I’m comfortable with my brother and my soon-to-be sister-in-law. I’m sure I’ll soon feel like going out again, but I’m not ready for that yet. I just want the safety and security that I get from our little apartment.
Teresa and her friends pick up their things and exit the apartment, leaving me, Chris, Anna and Jack lounging on the two beds. We talk some more, as Chris takes the remote and turns the television on, giving us some background noise. Chris and Anna are lying on Teresa’s bed, and eventually resort to talking quietly to one another. Jack and I sit on my bed, looking at the TV. I’m feeling vaguely uncomfortable sitting on my bed with him... but I don’t really know how to diffuse the situation. Do I get up and go sit across the room on the couch? Isn’t that rude? I can’t do that. I just decide to pull my legs into my chest, closing myself off.
“I think I’m going to call it a night,” Jack announces, possibly reading my body language, relief washing over me.
“You want us to take you home?” Chris asks.
“No, I’ll get a cab,” he tells us.
“Alright, well thanks for coming out with us tonight,” my brother says.
“It was my pleasure,” he says, turning his attention to me. “It was good to see you again, Emi.”
“Thanks, you too.”
“Take care of yourself.”
“Thanks, I will,” I tell him. I walk him to the door, closing it behind him.
“You guys don’t have to stay,” I tell my brother and Anna. “I’ll be fine.”
“I don’t know, Emi,” Anna says. “We don’t have to leave yet.”
“Honestly, I’m really tired. I didn’t sleep at all last night, and I’m sure I’ll be out once my head hits the pillow. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“You know you can call us at any time, right?” Chris asks.
“I know.”
“And here, let me give you Jack’s number. He’s just a few blocks away. I’d feel better knowing you had someone close-by in case you ever needed anything. He said he wouldn’t mind helping out.”
“I don’t think I’ll need that.”
“Just take it, Emi. It’ll make me feel better about leaving you here alone.”
“Alright.”
“We love you, Em.”
“Love you guys, too. Be careful going home.”
“We will.”
“Well,” I tell them, hugging them both, “good night.”
“Sleep well, Emi.”
“Bye.”
I walk to the dresser and look at myself in the mirror. I have a difficult time recognizing myself at times. It’s not just the fact that I’ve lost weight since the accident. Something in my eyes just seems sad, dull. Will I ever be vibrant, happy? Or has this experience changed me so much that I will never be the woman I once knew, the woman that Nate knew and loved. Would he recognize me today?
I take the necklace off and place it carefully back in the box. I wash my face and put on a t-shirt, one of Nate’s that I found earlier in the day. It’s clean, doesn’t smell like him, but there are two small spatters of paint on one of the sleeves that remind me of him. I crawl into bed, hugging myself tightly as I start to cry. This is the first time I’ve been truly alone since that night. I suddenly wish I still had the tie with me, so I could breathe him in, and feel him with me again. I want to remember everything about him! I focus on the time we spent in the hotel, making love. When my mind starts to wander to the car, to the crash, I do whatever I have to do to keep the image of him dying out of my head. I know it’s there, always in the background, but that isn’t how I want to remember him.
I sob heavily, loudly, like I haven’t been able to do in weeks. Being alone gives me the freedom to let it all out. I cry until there are no more tears, until my head hurts so badly that even the moonlight is too much for my weary eyes to handle. This is the time of night that I find my over-active imagination to be most useful. I pretend that Nate’s arm is around my body, cuddling closely to me. I feel safe, protected, loved. I will fall asleep shortly.
The sunlight is full and bright when I open my eyes the next day. I look at the alarm clock, which states 1:15. I’ve been sleeping for over twelve hours... I don’t remember the last time that happened. Teresa’s bed is just how she left it last night, so it’s clear she didn’t come home last night after dancing. I see a light flashing on my phone and pick it up off the nightstand. Three texts, two missed calls, one message.
The first text is my brother letting me know they made it home okay. The second is from Anna, sent minutes later, asking if I was okay. Teresa sent the third, letting me know she would be staying at Bradley’s. The voice message is from Anna, from this morning, again asking how I was doing. I’m fine, I’m fine, stop worrying about me, people. I know I should be appreciative... I’ll text them in a few.
I decide to get up and shower before leaving the apartment for a latte. I don’t bother putting make-up on or fixing my hair. I stuff my laptop in my bag and head out the door. The day is beautiful, not too cool. I pick up the coffee and take it outside, deciding to go for a walk. I end up at Nate’s building. Marcus greets me and invites me in, giving me a sympathetic hug.
“Are you moving in yet?” he asks.
“No, not yet,” I tell him. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to.”
“Well, I hope you change your mind.”
I nod. “I guess I’ll go up and make sure everything is okay, though.”
“Alright, Emi. Let us know if you need anything. My shift is almost over, but our new doorman, Frank, will be here for the rest of the day.”
“Thanks.” I take a deep breath and head toward the elevator. It seems so quiet, so empty inside, more so than normal. At the moment I feel I may suffocate in the enclosed space, the door opens on the twelfth floor and I quickly escape. I stand outside of Nate’s door– my door– fumbling for the key and trying to find some courage. Finally, I’m able to go in.
The quiet and emptiness of the elevator doesn’t even begin to compare to the feeling of Nate’s apartment. There is no life at all inside. Every step on the hardwood floor sounds amplified, echos. I go to the stereo that sits gathering dust and turn it on. The Zero 7 CD is still in the player. I go through the stack of CDs next to his stereo, finding the one we listened to in LA. I sigh, remembering the night in Los Angeles when everything was finally falling into place.
I put my computer on the work desk and power it on, trying to envision living here. I walk to the kitchen to throw my coffee cup away, see if there is anything in the refrigerator. The only thing left is bottled water, something Nate always had ample supplies of. I take one out and carry it to the desk with me.
Of course there is no Internet access here anymore, all the wireless networks password protected, so if I intend to do work over here, I’ll need to look into that. I decide to do some touch-up work on the illustrations. After only thirty minutes, I just feel overwhelmingly tired. I’m not sure why, after twelve hours of sleep, but it’s difficult to even keep my eyes open. I look
at the bed, and know immediately I cannot lie down on it. There are just far too many memories there. I want to leave those memories as they are, don’t want to taint them with new ones. I walk over to the couch and cuddle with a throw pillow. The music lulls me to sleep.
A knock on the door wakes me. When I open my eyes, I’m disoriented and confused. It takes me a few minutes to realize where I am and why I’m here. Another knock. I have no idea who would be coming to visit– no one knows I’m here. Looking through the peephole doesn’t help. It’s a young woman, but I don’t know her. I assume she has the wrong apartment, so I open the door to tell her.
“Can I help you?” I ask her, suddenly realizing that it’s Samantha. She looks older, her hair cropped to her shoulders.
“Oh,” she says, obviously surprised to see me at the door. She looks behind me at the apartment, scanning the room. “Is Nate here?”
“I’m sorry?” I say.
“Um, Emi, right?” I nod. “Is Nate around?”
“I’m sorry,” I repeat nervously, my body starting to shake. “Samantha, why are you here?”
“I just need to talk to him for a second. If he’s not here, I can come back.”
I shake my head slowly, disbelieving, looking into her eyes to see if she’s joking. I gather that she’s serious by her eager look. “Samantha... he doesn’t live here...”
“What do you mean?” she asks curiously. “I know that’s his stuff,” she says referring to his apartment furnishings.
“Yes, it’s his stuff,” I tell her, forcing a smile. “And no, he’s not here, Sam.” My voice seems to get quieter involuntarily. How could she not know? How did she get past the doorman? Did she really not know?
“I tried calling, but his phone was disconnected,” she explains.
“Yes,” I say, my eyes beginning to water. “Did you need something, Samantha?”
“No,” she laughs. “I just missed him. I was hoping to talk to him about things... show him how I’ve changed.” She seems so young, naïve.
“Oh, my god,” I choke out the words.
“What is it?”
“Come in, Sam,” I open the door wider, inviting her into the apartment. “Sit down.”
She sits on the couch, tense, her posture straight, looking at me with wondering eyes.
“Samantha,” I say, taking her hand in mine. “Nate passed away.” I’ve never had to tell anyone that before, and the words feel horrible coming out of my mouth. It’s as if they have their own terrible aftertaste. I swallow the familiar lump in my throat.
“What?” she says, shocked, her face crumpling. She begins to cry, and I can tell that she truly cared for him, for my love.
“It was a car accident on New Year’s Eve,” I say, trying to be strong for her as others were for me when the news was still fresh and foreign.
She sobs uncontrollably, and I reach over to hug her. She embraces me tightly, clinging to me.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, telling myself as much as I am telling her.
“I still love him,” Samantha confesses.
“So do I,” I tell her. “I know it hurts.” I remember that Nate had been her first, and recognized that she would always feel a special connection to him. I don’t feel jealous. I know that what Nate and I shared was different than anything that he shared with other women, with her. But what he and I had was too sacred to relate to anyone, especially her. She didn’t need to know the details.
“It’s not fair,” she sobs.
“No, it’s not,” I agree. It feels different to be on this side of the news, the one delivering it. The fact that I’m able to say it out loud makes me realize that I’ve made significant progress in healing. It’s as if this visit from his ex is a test for me. And I feel like I’m passing.
Samantha releases her hold on me and stands up, wandering around the apartment, looking at things that brought back her own familiar memories. As she eyes the bed, I feel panic. That bed is sacred to me. I don’t care what connection she feels to it. It holds my memories, and I don’t want to think of anyone else having such memories. I don’t want anyone’s hands touching it. She begins to reach for a pillow, and I can’t contain the feeling any longer.
“Please don’t touch that,” I tell her, order her. She stops in her tracks. “I’m sorry, but please don’t touch the bed.”
“I just wanted to–”
“I know,” I cut her off. “But, please don’t. Just, please leave it alone.”
She looks at me confused.
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” I tell her. “This, um... it’s my apartment now... and I would appreciate if you didn’t come back here.”
“But–”
“I don’t mean to be rude,” I tell her, unable to catch my breath. “I know you’re a sweet girl. I know he was important to you. But he was mine. He was my everything, meant everything to me.” The strength I felt a few minutes ago drains quickly from my body. The tears begin to flow. “Please go.”
Samantha nods, looks at me like I’m crazy and exits the apartment quickly. I fall to my knees, crumple to the floor.
“Damn it, Nate!” I yell. “Why?!”
Over the next few hours, the phone rings a few times, text messages come in. Since the phone is on the desk, and I remain in a ball on the floor, I don’t answer anyone’s attempts to contact me. There’s no point. I feel like I’ve taken a huge step backwards. I don’t want anyone to see me like this. I struggle to find my sanity again, to accept him, his life, his death. I hate that she came over here, reminded me that he had a different life with different women. I hate that I feel a little less special, was reminded that I wasn’t the only one who loved him completely. I hate that other women may have known him like I did. I hate that I had to be the one to tell her that he died. Died.
Another knock on the door brings me back to reality, but I realize I don’t have to answer it. I didn’t have to earlier, shouldn’t have, in fact. If I had ignored it, I would be functioning in some capacity right now. I’d be designing, or reading, or watching television or something productive. Instead, I remain crippled, motionless on this hardwood floor.
Suddenly the door opens, and I realize I didn’t lock the door after Samantha left.
“Emi,” Jack says, rushing to me on the floor, his shadow disappearing in the darkness as the door closes behind him.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, unable to see anything in the apartment due to the moonless night.
“Chris has been trying to get in touch with you. We’ve all been looking for you for hours. I went by your apartment, and this was the only place Teresa could think of that you might be. Are you alright?”
“No,” I tell him.
“Did you fall?”
“No.”
“Are you hurt?”
“Yes.”
“Where?” he asks, his hands lightly touching my shoulders.
“My heart,” I exhale in a sob.
Realizing I’m not physically hurt, he picks me up off the floor. My eyes adjust to the darkness in time to see him carrying me to the bed.
“Don’t put me on the bed!”
“Okay, Emi,” he says, “calm down. Breathe... Is the couch okay?”
“Yes,” I tell him. He sets me down and turns on a nearby lamp. He calls Chris, telling him where he found me, how he found me.
“Why did you come here, Emi?” he asks.
“Just to check on things,” I tell him. “I went for a walk and ended up here.” I tell him the whole story, the happenings of the day, how it made me feel that Samantha showed up, said she loved him. I tell him how it made me feel less important, less special. I tell him more than I intend to tell him, to tell anyone. I am such an emotional wreck I can’t stop the flow of words.
“Emi,” he says reassuringly. “If you think that you were just another woman to Nate, you are sadly mistaken.”
“You didn’t know him,” I argue.
“No, I didn’t
. But I know what I saw in his eyes, on more than one occasion. The night I met you, I could see how much he completely adored you. I saw his aside glance to me, warning me to stay away from you. And at the party on New Year’s?” he pauses, waiting for me to look at him. “I saw how he looked at you when he came off the stage, the passion in his eyes pierced through me, through everything else in that room. He loved you deeply and completely... and that’s rare, Emi.
“He was lucky to have found you. It was obvious that you were his world. And if I could see that, could feel that... me, just some stranger that didn’t even know him... well, Emi, you should have no doubt in your mind.”
“That’s nice of you to say.”
“Well, it’s true,” he laments, then sighs. After a few minutes, my breathing is back to normal and I sit up on the couch, staring at my feet.
“Can I walk you back to your apartment?”
“You don’t have to,” I tell him as a sudden deja vu invades my otherwise distracted mind. I feel as if we have had this exact conversation before.
“I know I don’t have to, but I’d like to... give Chris some peace of mind.” A slight grin breaks out across his face.
“Why are you smiling like that?” I ask, curious.
“Just... nothing,” he laughs quietly.
“Okay,” I smile, still wondering but feeling strangely comforted and... okay. “Let me get my things.” I put my laptop in my bag, and Jack takes it from me, slinging it easily over his shoulder. I turn off the lights and lock the door behind us.
“So I was thinking,” Jack says as we walk down the street, “that the next time you feel like going over there, maybe you should bring someone with you. I’m sure Teresa would go... Anna or Chris would be happy to come down, I know.”
“I don’t know when I’ll go back.”
“Well, when you do...” his voice trails off. “Have you eaten anything today?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Do you want to get something?” he asks.
“No, thanks. I’ll eat something at home.”
“Okay.” The rest of the walk home is silent, except for occasional street noise. He walks me upstairs to my unit, and familiar sounds greet us before I even get out my keys. Teresa has Bradley over... fabulous. I feel my face get hot, blush.
