She felt guilty as she sat upstairs in her bedroom in the days following the accident, looking out the window at the people who were leaving food and flowers at her doorstep. They were going out of their way to be there for her, and she was ignoring them. She also worried about what everyone must have thought when she didn’t come down even for Ben’s wake, funeral, or burial. She saw everyone coming and going in their black outfits, carrying trays of food for her and ringing her doorbell, but she didn’t go downstairs.
Her mother and sister had come to the house, of course. She heard them wailing her name and crying in disbelief and grief. But she didn’t respond. She didn’t acknowledge any of it. She couldn’t allow herself to be distracted. She had lost her phone in the fire, so it didn’t ring, which was a relief. Soon, people stopped coming by, and she could live out her new life the way she wanted to. At home, waiting with patience and concentration for Ben to return.
After a few weeks of waiting and seeing no evidence of Ben, she started to question her resolve. She figured she had to be crazy. Most widows must have this same feeling, and it certainly crossed her mind that she simply missed her husband. But for some reason, she felt that her case was different. She just couldn’t allow herself to give up. Something inside told her that her connection with Ben was too strong to be broken, even by death.
They say that memories fade; that once a loved one is gone, you slowly forget the nuances of their facial expressions, the exact pitch of their voice, or the way their skin felt on yours. But it was different for Juliana. She was locked into Ben. Perhaps it was the result of her quarantine or the amount of time she spent focused solely on him. Whatever the reason, she had managed to keep him perfectly preserved in her memory.
Still, after a few weeks of waiting, pacing, and most taxing of all not leaving the house, Juliana was about ready to give up. She missed her mother and her sister. Then there were her friends, of course, and even her co-workers. She had stayed just out of sight and watched them mingle awkwardly downstairs for Ben’s events but hadn’t spoken to them. They must be wondering how she was. It would be great to see them. Missing everyone in her life made her wonder if the sacrifice she was making for a chance at seeing Ben was worth it.
She thought of her mother. It wasn’t fair to let her lose a son-in-law and daughter in the same accident. The least she could do was stop by and let her know how she was doing.
So Juliana decided she would go visit. She took a shower and got dressed, which felt good after all this time. She hadn’t realized how long she had allowed herself to spend in the same outfit. She looked out the window, and the weather seemed nice; the sun was shining in a pleasant, inviting way, and the colors of the foliage were especially vivid. She realized it had been such a long time since she had even stepped out onto her front porch. She started slowly downstairs. She heard the wood creak under her. She made it to the bottom of the stairs, right where she had been stuck during the fire, and held onto the railing as if it were a life raft and she was at risk of drifting off to sea. Suddenly, she was dizzy. She was lightheaded. She felt nauseous. Her heart raced and she vision blurred. To her, all of it added up to one thing: she wasn’t ready.
Seeing her mother would be nice, but she would have questions. She would want to know where she’d been. Juliana knew her mother and knew she would keep pushing until she got the truth out of her. That would mean explaining her plan, and there was no way she could do that. Her mother was a widow too. She would think that Juliana needed help grieving, and she would have her to a shrink before she could figure out an escape plan. She didn’t need help moving on from Ben’s memory when she was trying for the exact opposite. A visit with her mother would be disastrous.
Plus, if she left the house now, all the work she had put in waiting for Ben to contact her so far would be for naught. If he got the power to break through while she was gone, or even give a small signal to her when she wasn’t there to see it, she could never forgive herself. This is why people don’t succeed in reaching their departed loved ones, she thought, they give in too soon. They let themselves get distracted. They stop focusing on the end goal just when they’re closest to a breakthrough.
Juliana took a deep breath and tightened her grip on the railing. Again, she struggled to believe it was all worth it. She would love to see Ben, but she knew he would never want her to sacrifice her life for him the way she had been since the accident. She was overwhelmed by guilt when she allowed herself to acknowledge it, but she truly didn’t know how much longer she could live like this. Maybe it would be best to move on…
But then, just at the moment, her resolve was being tested, she heard the lock on the front door click. The door creaked open. She saw him. Although he was only a few yards away, she could barely make him out. It was almost as if she were seeing him through a fog, or if she were trying to see him again through those horrible flames that had attempted to separate them forever. But she was sure. It was him. She recognized him, of course, but more than that, she could feel him. Her soul warmed up in a way it hadn’t since the accident as soon as he came in.
Ben walked in the front door just as he always did. He looked exhausted from work. His brown hair, which he always kept short and well groomed, was a little longer. It made him look rough around the edges. He threw his bag down on the living room armchair closest to the door and crossed into the kitchen to get himself a beer from the fridge.
Juliana had worked hard after the accident to restore everything to its exact place, so when Ben came back, he would feel completely at home. She smiled and watched him for another moment. His face, usually so bright and full of life, looked uncharacteristically dim. He was in desperate need of a haircut. His clothes looked a bit ragged, which struck Juliana as a little funny—she was always the one who did the ironing. Not much had changed.
Juliana stood there for another moment, caught still at the foot of the staircase, the exact place where she had seen him last. She couldn’t allow herself to be frozen here, not again; she couldn’t lose the chance she’d been waiting so patiently for. She took a deep breath and forced herself into action.
“Ben?” she called more quietly than she had meant to, the word stuck in her throat. He didn’t hear her. She tried to take another deep breath, but it burned her throat, and she coughed a little.
“Ben?” she called again, a bit louder this time. He still didn’t seem to hear. She had to get to him. Could she touch him? He seemed so solid, so permanent as he stood there. She had to try. She took a step off the stairs and called to him again, but was knocked backward immediately by what felt like a slap in the face. The room had suddenly filled with flames, just as it had that fateful day weeks ago. The fire swirled and billowed before her, drowning out anything else she had to say. She was losing her chance. She had to do something. She screamed and covered her face. She threw herself into the fire again, just as she had so many weeks ago, to get to her husband. She reached her arms out and dove to him, but he remained out of reach. The fire had a grip on her. It pinned her back, and no matter how hard she fought, thrashed, and screamed, she couldn’t escape.
Juliana put up the fight of her life. Finally, just as she used the last of her strength to scream his name one more time, Ben’s body whipped around in her direction. He looked terrified.
“Juliana?” through the thickening flames she saw his mouth form her name, tentatively, as if he too were uncertain that they would ever be reunited again. After all this time, Juliana felt so close to a real connection. She was elated. Encouraged, she smiled and started to call his name again, but stopped short.
He was gone. He and the flames both disappeared in an instant, and Juliana fell to her knees, left crying alone on the cold wood floor of the living room.
After a few minutes, she sat up. She wiped her tears and collected herself. She had seen him. She couldn’t quite communicate with him, and he wasn’t able to stay, but he knew she was still looking for him. She was encouraged. A
nd, more importantly, she was right.
Juliana sat up in her bed and willed herself to get up. It had been almost a month since she had last seen Ben. He was watching TV on the couch, and he hadn’t looked at her at all. Living this life was getting harder for her every day. She had thought that being able to see him would make her feel less lonely, but the opposite was true. Not for the first time, she started to again doubt what she was doing.
She looked around the room at the white walls that were scrubbed clean of their smoke damage after the fire. Finally, her eyes rested on the wedding photo on her nightstand. As always, she carefully placed it face down and got herself out of bed.
Once upright, Juliana shuffled into the bathroom. She reached for the light switch but felt it spring up under her hand before she was able to touch it. She gasped and pulled her hand back as the lights turned on. Could that be him? Was his spirit with her, in the bathroom right now? She shook a little as she took a breath and searched the room desperately for another sign. She knew he was here.
After a moment of no other movement, she dropped her silk nightgown to her feet, turned the shower on, and stepped in. She closed her eyes and thought about him; thought about the way his touch gave her the chills. She thought about his presence and how it brought such love, light, and warmth to every room he was in. She thought about his smile. His marvelous, easy going, handsome smile, and she leaned forward and put her head under the water.
Suddenly, she felt warm. Warmer than the water could have possible made her; this warmth emanated from her heart and radiated through her entire body. She knew he was there with her. He was pressing up behind her, as he always did when he surprised her in the shower, and sliding his arms around her. She laughed out loud and took a deep breath in, basking in this moment. She hadn’t been touched like this since the accident. She closed her eyes and tried to memorize the feeling. She ran her hands over his arms and tightened them around her naked body. She was warm and wet with excitement.
From her experiences over the past year, these moments were fleeting, and she wanted to remember every second. Hopeful, she tilted her head over her shoulder. She had to see him. She had never been able to see him this closely before. She but when she opened her eyes, he was gone. The sound of the shower echoed off the walls of the bathroom. She was left alone, as she always was.
Chapter Two: The Widower
Ben glanced toward the nightstand. He saw that his wedding photo had, once again, been placed face down. He sat up and turned toward Larissa, who was sleeping peacefully beside him. Angry, he woke her.
“Larissa, we talked about this,” he said, his voice containing a bit more edge than he had wanted it to, “if you don’t want the picture there I’ll move it.”
“What?” Larissa propped herself up on an elbow and pushed her soft brunette curls back. She squinted in Ben’s general direction.
“The picture, my wedding picture. I can move it if it freaks you out. It’s not a big deal. Just tell me. Stop knocking it down in the middle of the night.”
“Ben, you probably hit the nightstand in your sleep. I don’t know. I didn’t touch it. I told you, I don’t mind the picture. You look cute all dressed up. Plus what’s she gonna do, cheat with you from the grave?” Larissa laid back down and cringed a little at what she had just said.
“That came out wrong, I—”
“No,” Ben smiled as he cut her off. Larissa was a lot of amazing things, but subtle was not one of them.
“I’m sorry babe,” he paused for a moment and rubbed his face. “You’re right,” Ben tried to take it easy on Larissa. She was definitely in a tough spot. Dating a widower is not easy.
Plus, they’d had a version of this same conversation a few times before, and he had no reason to doubt that she was honest with him. Larissa made it clear to him, more times that she should have had to, that him being a widower didn’t bother her. If anyone had any hang ups, she had said, it was him. And though he would never admit it to her, she was right.
It had been over a year since the fire took his wife’s life, but he still felt as if he were cheating on her with Larissa. Being with someone is just like any other habit, but it’s even harder to break. One day he was married, and the next day he wasn’t. He definitely felt the effects, he was devastated, but that was still very different from bringing himself around to be intimate with someone else.
Everyone said he should move for a fresh start, and they were probably right. It was almost impossible to wake up every day in the house he and Juliana had bought to start their life together without thinking solely about her.
Everything reminded him of her. The fixtures in the bathrooms that she had picked out, the feng shui friendly placement of the bed she had insisted on for in their room, the spare bedroom that they planned one day to make into a nursery; everything was haunted by the memory of his wife. And although part of him knew it was holding him back, he wasn’t quite ready to move on yet.
When people suggested he get out of his house, he was very defensive. He started to tell everyone he couldn’t leave because of financial reasons so they would leave him alone, but he heard their whispers. No one believed that. They thought he was holding on too tightly to her memory. That he wasn’t ready to move on. At first, they had been understanding, or at the very least, they were kind to him. But now, they started to not only pity him but lose their patience. After a year, they all said, he should really start moving forward.
In reality, though, there was something else holding him in place. Not only something that kept him dwelling on his wife’s memory but something that physically kept him in the home that he and his wife had shared. It was something he would never tell anyone because he could never tell anyone. Everyone would think he was crazy. His parents would send him back to the grief counselor he had fought so hard to get rid of. It was exhausting dragging himself to sessions and lying to this poor guy who was just trying to help. Plus, he would certainly alienate the few friends he’d managed to keep. He’d already put them all through so much. He couldn’t drop this on them and expect them to stay by his side.
He had come close to telling Larissa once. It was after dinner one night when they were three bottles of wine deep. They had only been seeing each other a month or so, and so far Ben had avoided bringing up his departed wife any more than he had to. Juliana naturally came up a few times, but when that happened, Ben was always quick to change the subject. Discussing her with another woman felt wrong. And wasn’t rule number one of dating to not bring up your exes? He never thought it was possible, but in a way, that’s what Juliana was to him now. It tore him apart, but that was his reality.
At that moment though, when his mind was floating and fuzzy because of the wine, and he was tucked beneath the fur throw on the living room couch with Larissa, he felt comfortable. For the first time in a while, he felt as though someone wouldn’t judge him for what he was thinking. After all, Larissa had offered to help him any way she could. That’s how they met.
At first, she was just a concerned neighbor who came by to give her condolences like everyone else. She said she would help him however he needed it. Ben had no intention of contacting her until he ripped a hole in his favorite jacket, one that Juliana had picked out for him. He didn’t want to see his mother, so called Larissa to see if she could come by and mend it for him.
It started innocently enough. She came over and fixed the jacket for him. Upon seeing what a mess he was living in, she straightened things up for him and hung around and made dinner. She was easy enough to be around, which was a rare find for him these days. She started coming by after work a few days a week. Ben appreciated it; she helped him take better care of everything, and more importantly, the house didn’t feel so empty with her around.
Before he knew it, Larissa was making dinner for the two of them every night. And it all felt so natural. He wasn’t sure he wanted to move on that quickly from Juliana. When he had time to stop and think about it, he was
overwhelmed with guilt, but there was something about Larissa that that made him feel better, and he thought that Juliana would want that for him. Plus, the house was so empty without anyone to share it with.
The first time she spent the night it was an accident, really. They were drinking, and she fell asleep on the couch. He woke her and invited her up to his bed so she would be more comfortable. After that, once the ice was broken, she slept with him almost every night.
“I feel like she’s still here,” he said, out of nowhere.
“Who? Your wife?” Larissa’s voice was hesitant. As usual, she avoided saying Juliana’s name. Ben felt bad about this habit; he knew it was his fault. He had some unpleasant reactions to her referring to Juliana by name in the past.
“Yeah,” he said softly, treading carefully, fearing her reaction, “that’s why I can’t leave.”
“That’s natural, I think,” Larissa said slowly, doing her best to ease into the conversation, “when I was little my grandparents died, and my mom felt so guilty the whole time she was selling their house.”
Ben paused. That wasn’t quite what he meant. He tried again.
“No, not like that. Not like her memory is here. I know what that would be like and it’s not the same thing. I… Larissa, I’ve seen her.”
“Well, you know,” Larissa glanced around the room and Ben could see her racking her brain for some kind of fact that she’d read in one of the books on grief that he’d been given, “they say when someone’s gone that it’s easy to believe you’ve seen them—”
“Not like that,” Ben paused, staring intently at her. He knew he couldn’t continue what he wanted to say. Larissa had been so patient with him so far, and the last thing he wanted to do was give her a reason to be scared away. And this would certainly scare her away.
The Campus Jock: A College Bad Boy Romance Page 54
