The Sirens of SaSS Anthology

by Anthology

  Today I was returning to work. This was the first time that I would operate within new thoughts, hopes, and dreams, because the ones that I had shared with Judge were now mixed with his ashen remains. I knew in my heart that if he were here, Judge would be cheering me on to live in the best way I could. But all I could think of was him. I couldn’t comprehend beyond a tiny seed of thought that I might—just might—be able to live without him. I chose a black outfit. Bright colors offended me. I only wanted to wear black, gray, or white. Those hues reflected a more accurate depiction of my inner struggle. Bright tones were reminiscent of the sparkle that Judge’s love had brought into my life. It mattered not what I wore because I quickly reminded myself that this play-acting was for the benefit of friends and family. I didn’t want them to worry unnecessarily about me. They too, had suffered loss, and I was motivated to act as if on a happy stage to ease their concerns. Judge would have scolded me and told me to ignore what other people thought of me.

  I reached into the closet and pulled out my black pants. I decided to wear a cobalt blue sweater because it was Judge’s favorite color and I needed to feel close to him today. As my eyes misted, I closed them. I could almost hear his voice inside my head. As I had done many times since his death, I held an imaginary conversation with him. I saw his handsome face within my mind’s eye. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning forward with his forearms resting on his thighs, watching me as I dressed.

  “Why are you doing this, babe?” His voice enveloped me in warmth. “If you feel bad, you feel bad. Who gives a shit what other people think?”

  “I don’t know, but unfortunately, I do. Even more so since you’ve been gone.”

  “Hope, stop. You’re sad. I don’t think you should care about anybody else. Don’t you think that most people would understand?”

  “No. I don’t.” With my eyes still closed, I turned and held onto the bedpost, facing the place where he always sat. “No one understands, Judge. They’ll never understand how we were or how you wanted me to go on. All they know is the loss that they feel. They have no idea what it’s like to be me. No one prepared me for how deep the void would be when I lost you. But you warned me that I would have to push myself to find life and love again. I hate to admit it, but I know that if I don’t do this, Judge, I’m going to lose myself. It’s been months and I barely recognize who I am anymore. Even though everyone lost you, I feel like I’m losing myself.

  I need to find me again and work this out my way. I need to do this on my terms. People are starting to worry, especially my mom. I owe it to myself to give life my best shot, otherwise nothing you said to me will have any meaning.”

  “That’s what I’ve been telling you, baby. You’ve got to find yourself again. You’ll always have us and the memories we shared. What you need to do now is create new memories.” I studied his face, fearing that it was the last time I would see him or have a conversation such as this. His expression wasn’t one of anger, but of determination. His full lips were tight and his forehead had furrowed lines etched in his skin. “I love you, Hope, and I never asked you to be anyone other than yourself. Don’t try to be anyone else, especially for other people. I love you just the way you are and so should they. Always remember that.”

  And just like that, Judge was gone.

  Chapter Four

  Although it had been a challenge in the early weeks, I had now been back to work for nearly three months. Still, the air inside my office seemed oppressively heavy and stale with sadness. I handed Stella the box of Kleenex and she removed several. Her tears flowed freely. She dabbed at her eyes and then wiped her runny nose.

  “My husband’s death makes me feel like I’ve been swallowed up by a monster. No one can see how big it is except me, but it’s scarier than I ever imagined and more dangerous than I thought possible. I fight it every day, Hope, and every day is different. Like I’m getting ahead of it one day, and the next I feel like I’m slain again. There are days that I have to push myself to get out of bed, but I put on a brave face. It’s just that …” Stella’s chin dropped to her chest as she covered her face with her hands. Silent sobs wracked her body, moving her shoulders in concert with her breathing.

  I gave her a few moments to expel the hurt before softly speaking. “Why don’t you try to take a deep breath?” I threaded compassion through my words.

  Stella looked up at me, her eyes now red-rimmed and bloodshot. “I don’t know how to fight this. When my husband died, my love didn’t. Now it just doesn’t have a place to go. I feel like there’s a dam ready to burst inside of me. The lump in my throat nearly chokes me. It’s crazy! Stuff I never gave thought to, like shopping or going out to lunch, people talk about it. It’s like people are watching me do everything. And now I feel like I’m always watching myself so I can judge before they do. I used to give hugs to everybody, but I don’t feel like doing it anymore because I know that they’re talking about me behind my back. It’s almost like everyone’s grief has poisoned them.”

  I knew the feeling well, yet couldn’t share that information with her. It wouldn’t be professional to reveal aspects of my personal life to a patient. What I really wanted to do was take her out for coffee. Tell her that I understood how she felt. Unbeknownst to Stella, we were kindred spirits. The pain of death was the sea in which she and I were barely treading water. The same waves crashed over us while we were caught in the riptide. Although there were moments when the waters calmed, those times were short-lived. The only promise I could give to her—one that I had learned from women older and wiser than I—was that one day we would both be able to swim without fear of drowning.

  “There are no rules with death, Stella. Intellectually, you know that he is gone, it just takes time for your heart to catch up. As far as the scrutiny you’ve been under, take the comments and actions with a grain of salt. No one knows how you feel, but everyone will have an opinion. They’re just acting on emotions and emotions have no intellect. I’ve always heard it said that ‘you can’t help what pops into your head, but you can control what comes out of your mouth.’ The best thing you can do for yourself is to ignore them and concentrate on you.”

  She managed a weak smile. “Thank you. If I could bring him back, I would. But since I can’t, I just have to move forward, you know?”

  The truth was that I knew all too well what she meant. I had cried a million tears, begged a million times, and made a million promises to God that I fully intended to keep if He would just bring Judge back to me. I had pleaded for some modern-day Lazarus miracle to have my husband back for just one more day. But it never happened. There were so many times that I felt I had died along with Judge, but the painful realization was that I hadn’t. My lungs still breathed, my blood still flowed, and, piece by piece, my broken heart was beginning to heal. Although it would never be the same, I would function and regain my life, despite the scar of death. I wanted to hold Stella’s hand and reassure her that everything would be okay. Displays of compassion with patients were cautioned against and were frowned upon in my profession. Only textbook common sense was encouraged and would have to suffice. In a situation such as this, most of my colleagues would put on their monotone voices as quickly as they slid their glasses on their noses; and for the sake of keeping my job, I had to follow suit.

  “We can continue this next week, Stella. In the meantime, make a list of some things that you like to do. Perhaps some goals you might set for yourself. Bring that list with you and we can expand on it next week. We need to discuss how you can take the steps necessary to live your best life by doing things that make you happy.”

  Stella glanced at the clock as she reached for her purse. Although I was sure that her days were dragging out as slowly as she had confided, I was confident that she would learn to live again despite the grief. Just as I had begun to do. I knew all too well that every part of her felt broken, but I also knew that she would heal in time. Sorrow from death is equally as painful as a shattered l
imb and grief is invisible. Once the tears dry, no one can see how much you are suffering inside.

  Chapter Five

  “Okay, everyone. That concludes our program today. If anyone is interested in speaking with me further on the topic, I’ll be in the hotel lobby in about an hour. Thank you all for attending.”

  The microphone squealed as Dr. Smith spoke, causing the audience to wince at the shrill tone. Nonetheless, applause followed her concluding remarks and the seminar attendees filed out of the conference room. I followed suit, hoping to join up with a few of my colleagues at the hotel bar. I could use a drink. I had decided to attend this conference at the last minute and the hurried travel plans had left my head spinning. The only recent respite had been the smooth jazz music playing through the Uber driver’s car stereo as he transported me from the airport to the hotel.

  Because the session was well attended, the room had grown uncomfortably warm toward the end of Dr. Smith’s talk. As I shuffled along with the exiting crowd, the sensation of fresh air met me at the door to the hotel’s main corridor. I could feel the flush on my neck and cheeks receding as my body temperature lowered. As soon as I passed through the threshold, the crowd separated and comfortable distances were formed between all of the warm bodies as people moved away from each other. I took a deep breath once I was free of the claustrophobic throng. Most people veered to the right toward the elevators, but I turned left to look inside the sleek restaurant for my friends. Booths, tables, and comfortable chairs were scattered around the perimeter of the room as an unspoken invitation to guests to spend more of their money within the hotel instead of leaving the premises to spend it elsewhere.

  As I looked around, I saw an arm waving. I zeroed in on the appendage raised high by my friend, Samantha, attempting to get my attention. I waved back as I moved in her direction. Since most of the attendees were scurrying back to their rooms, it took me no time at all to get to the corner booth by the window.

  “Hi!” I slid across the seat as I greeted Samantha.

  “Hey! It’s good to see you,” she replied. “I left the conference room a few minutes before the session was over. I didn’t know how crowded this place would be and I wanted to catch up with you. Besides, Dr. Smith reiterated the same point for the last twenty minutes. I think she was just trying to fill the scheduled time.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, it was getting kind of boring toward the end. I don’t know why she didn’t dismiss early. It’s not like these things are structured like school. But then again, maybe that was her mindset.” I shrugged as Samantha nodded her agreement.

  “Could be. These things tend to go the boring route toward the end. It’s like they start off with a bang and slowly fizzle out.” She gave me a look, a smile crossing her lips as she tilted her head. “Change of topic: how are you?”

  I returned the smile. “I’m good. It was touch and go there for a while. I didn’t want to get out of bed most days, but I’m moving forward. It helps to know that Judge would have wanted me to. In fact, he would be the one pushing me.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. I was worried about you.” Her expression was one of genuine concern.

  “It’s weird, you know?” I sat back and crossed my legs under the tabletop. “Some people are all in favor of you moving forward and others prefer you to move at their speed, or at least they make you feel that way. I don’t think there is any right or wrong way to work through grief, as long as you are working through it.”

  “And are you?” Her eyebrows arched as she asked the question.

  “I think so.” My answer was accompanied by a shrug. “I’ve been staying on top of things. I haven’t neglected any responsibilities and I’ve met all of my commitments. I’m not going to lie to you and say that I don’t have bad days, because I do; more than most people know. But I work through them. Before I know it, I’m in bed and I feel like I’ve accomplished something. That I’ve gotten through one more day. That’s the only way I’ve been coping—one day at a time.” Just then a waitress came over and placed a glass of wine in front of me. Puzzled, I gave Sam a look.

  “It wasn’t me.”

  I could tell that she was just as surprised as I was when I saw her eyes widen. I turned my questioning gaze to the waitress. She grinned knowingly, nodding toward the bar. “The gentleman over there sent it.”

  My eyes traveled the trail over booths and tables until I spied the man our waitress referenced. He was sitting by himself at the end of the bar. I smiled, tipping my head with an unspoken thank you.

  “Seems you have an admirer.” Samantha’s voice had an amused tone.

  “Seems I do.” My answer was a mix of emotions. I was flattered, but hesitant. Having traveled for business before, I was well aware that this type of thing happened, but it had never happened to me. I turned to Samantha. “I’m not sure what the protocol is here. What am I supposed to do next?”

  “Nothing. Or something!” Sam’s reply was emphatic as she chuckled. “You already thanked him. If he wants more than that—or if you do—it’ll happen.”

  “I’m not sure I want that!” I understood exactly what she had meant and my tone was equally as emphatic. Although it was only a drink that had been offered, I was reminded once again that I was single and I had needs that weren’t being met. Sexual ones. Swimming in a sea of unattachment had its risks because the waters were dense with desperate people. Experienced sharks navigated the depths. Some swimmers were wary and some were more than willing to put themselves out there as prey. Which one was I? The question had floated to the surface of my grief more than once. Although it hadn’t occupied too much of my thoughts, the idea of physical affection, no matter how noncommittal, interested me. I had pushed dating to the side in favor of more pressing matters, but now I had a nice-looking guy buying me a drink and perhaps offering a little more. I knew the game. No strings attached. The loss of my husband had left me lonely. I missed the physical intimacy that a relationship provided, but the thought of one night of just sex? Was I that girl? No! I wasn’t. I looked across the room at the strange man. He was tall and had a handsome face. I could only see to just above his waist since the bar top blocked the remaining view, but I could tell by the strain on the cotton material of his shirt that his chest and arms were muscular. Stop! I chastised myself as I looked down at my drink, but as if magnetized by my attraction to him, I lifted my chin and again looked in his direction. He returned my gaze and I saw the question in his eyes. Quickly, I looked away. I wasn’t the kind of girl who would hook up with someone out of desperation. I would never consider it.

  Or would I?

  Chapter Six

  Lost within my own thoughts, I zoned out on my friend.

  “I’m outta here.” Samantha gathered the strap of her purse and tossed it onto her shoulder. As she slid her backside to the outer edge of the booth, I stood. She did likewise and we embraced.

  “I’m so sorry, Sam. I’m tired and my head’s all over the place. I’ll give you a call soon. Promise.” As I hugged her, I made a mental note to engage and be more present when I got together with friends. I had been so busy pretending that my life was normal that I had forgotten how to really live it.

  Samantha returned my embrace. “I know it’s been hard for you, but you’ve gotta get back in the game, you know?” Her eyes narrowed slightly and she gave a nod toward the bar. “That guy who sent you the wine? He’s still sitting over there. Maybe it’s time you played a little. You’re too damn serious for someone so young.”

  My eyes roamed the room, then settled on him. He seemed to be engrossed in the basketball game on the flat screen secured above the bar. He must have felt my eyes on him or perhaps I stared too long while entertaining some wickedly naughty thoughts per Sam’s suggestion. His view was no longer on the screen. It was locked onto me. I cast my eyes toward the floor, but I had stared long enough to know that I was attracted to him. He was as dark as I was light. My Irish skin had always been pale. In contrast, his had
a warm and toasty glow. I thought that he might have an occupation that required him to be outside, but his clothing was professional and suggested otherwise. What did I care? I would never see him after tonight. He smiled and I noticed that he had a Latino look about him. His dark eyes were set beneath a perfectly shaped brow and the strong angled lines of his cheekbones and jaw drew me in. It had only taken me a moment to notice all of this. Samantha still stood by my side. Her smile widened. Apparently she had witnessed the exchange.

  “Think fast, chica. He’s headed straight for you.”

  My spine stiffened as fear set in. What would I say? How should I act? I didn’t know how to do this anymore! My eyes widened as I slowly turned my head in his direction.

  “See you later, babes. Have fun!” Samantha’s voice held a cocky and amusing lilt.

  “I have no idea what to do,” I said to her under my breath.

  Her expression was warm, but teasing. “It’ll all come back to you. Like riding a bike. You’ll see.”

  I had no time to think of a quick way to escape, because just as soon as Samantha left my side, Mr. Handsome approached.

  “So did your friend abandon you?” His eyes followed Samantha as she walked toward the elevator.

  “Not really,” I lied. A lump formed in my throat as my mouth fuzzed dry like cotton balls. I gave him a cordial smile. “It’s been a long day. I think I may follow her.” I tried to inject confidence into my words, but before I could grab my jacket and purse, he touched my arm. Although his fingertips barely grazed my skin, the spark between us was filled with electricity. Literally. A static bite.