“Well,” he said, “I never remember the number.”
“Oh.” What a remarkably mundane hurdle to find ourselves up against. My excitement started to deflate as I realized this might not happen after all. Maybe we couldn’t get this done. He might need to call his mom for it, and then where would we be? “You know what? We can wait until you have it,” I said.
“What?” he said, appalled at the idea of waiting. “No, I’m almost positive I know what it is. Here,” he said as he wrote it down. “I know it’s either 518 or 581, but I’m pretty sure it’s 518.” He finished writing it and put the pen down triumphantly. He walked right up to the window, handed in the paperwork, and said, “One marriage license, please!” Then he turned toward me. “We’re getting married, baby! Are you ready?”
NOVEMBER
I put the check in a drawer where I won’t forget it and I look around my apartment. It feels like mine again. It feels like I can live a life here of my own. I know that I envisioned a life for Ben and me here. I imagined we’d move out one day when we had kids. I even imagined that one day, Ben would be moving boxes out of the house by himself while I looked on, eight months pregnant. That life is not going to happen for me. But now I realize that there is a world of possibilities. I don’t know what it’s going to look like when I move out of this apartment. I don’t know when it will be. And that, in its own way, is kind of thrilling. Anything could happen.
My cell phone rings, and it’s a number I don’t recognize. For some reason, I decide to answer it anyway.
“Hello?”
“Hello, is this Elsie Porter?” a woman asks.
“It is.”
“Hi, Ms. Porter. This is Patricia DeVette from the Clark County Recorder’s Office in Nevada,” she says. I swear my heart stops beating for a moment. “I have a . . . We don’t usually call people directly, Ms. Porter, but I have been filing some paperwork here and I wanted to speak with you about your county record.”
“Okay . . . ” I say. Oh God. I avoided this moment so long that it decided to take matters into its own hands and crash into me.
“It’s taken me a while to figure out what exactly went on here, but it appears that Ben Ross put the wrong social security number on your marriage license. I’ve left a number of messages for Mr. Ross and have not heard back.”
“Oh.”
“I’m getting in touch with you, Ms. Porter, to let you know that the marriage has not yet been filed with the county.”
And here it is. What I have feared all along. Ben and I are not legally married. During Ben’s lifetime, we were never recognized as a legal union. My worst nightmare has come true, and as I stand here on the phone, silent, I am surprised to learn that I don’t collapse. I don’t break down.
“Thanks, Patricia. Thank you for calling,” I say. I’m not sure what to say next. It’s such an odd predicament to be faced with. All I’ve wanted since Ben died was proof that we meant something to each other. Now, I realize that no piece of paper can prove any of that.
“Well,” I hear myself say. “Ben passed away.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Ben died. He’s dead. So I’m not sure if you can still file it.”
“I’m so sorry, Ms. Porter. I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“Thank you.”
I get the distinct impression that Ms. DeVette doesn’t know what to say. She’s quiet for a few breaths before she speaks again. “Well, I can still file it,” she says. “Since it’s overdue paperwork representing a legal union that did take place. But it’s entirely up to you. We don’t have to.”
“File it,” I hear myself say. “It happened. It should be a part of the county record.”
“All right, Ms. Ross, will do. Can I get his real social security number?”
“Oh,” I say. “What number did he put on the document?”
“518-38-9087.”
“Just change the 518 to 581.”
“Great, thank you, Ms. Ross,” Patricia says to me.
“Thank you for calling,” I say.
“And Ms. Ross?” she says as she is getting off the phone.
“Hmm?”
“Congratulations on your marriage. I’m sorry about your husband.”
“Thank you for saying that,” I say to her. When I put the phone down, I feel a short, sound sense of peace. I was Ben Ross’s wife. No one can take that away from me.
MAY
Elsie Porter?” the officiant said to me.
“Yes?”
“Ben Ross?”
“Yes.”
“Are you two ready?”
“Yes, sir,” Ben said. The officiant laughed and shook our hands. “My name’s Dave,” he said. “Let’s get this show going.”
“Okay!” I said, my arms pumped.
“Would you turn to face each other?” he asked, and we did.
“Ben and Elsie, we are gathered here today for you to celebrate one of life’s greatest moments and give recognition to the worth and beauty of love, as you join together in vows of marriage.”
I couldn’t see the officiant; I just kept staring at Ben. He was staring back at me. His face was lit up. I couldn’t believe how animated his smile was; I’d never seen anything like it. Dave continued to talk, but I couldn’t hear him. I couldn’t make out the words. It felt like the world had stopped, like it was paused and muted, like I was frozen in time and space.
“Did you two prepare vows?” Dave asked, as he brought me back to reality.
“Oh,” I said, looking at Ben. “No, but we can. Wanna wing it?” I said to Ben.
“Sure.” He smiled. “Let’s wing it.”
“Ben? Would you like to go first?” Dave asked.
“Oh, okay. Sure.” Ben was quiet for a minute. “Are vows, like, supposed to be promises you make or just . . . like anything you want to say?” he whispered to Dave.
“Anything you want to say is fine,” he said.
“Oh, okay.” Ben breathed in sharply. “I love you. I feel like I loved you from the moment I saw you in that pizza place, but I know that doesn’t make sense. I can’t live my life without you anymore. You are everything I have ever wanted in another person. You are my best friend, my lover, my partner. And I promise that I will spend the rest of my life taking care of you, the way you deserve to be taken care of. My whole life I was never looking for something bigger than myself, and then I met you and I want to dedicate every day of my life to you. You are it for me. You are why I am here. Without you, I am nothing. So thank you, Elsie, for being who you are, and for spending your life with me.”
Tears were forming in my eyes, my throat felt like I’d swallowed a brick.
“Elsie?” Dave prompted me.
“I love you,” I said and broke down. I couldn’t make out words in between my blubbering. As I looked at Ben, I saw he was crying too. “I just love you so much,” I said. “I never knew what it was like to love someone so much and to be loved so well,” I said. “For the rest of time, I will be by your side, Ben. I will dedicate my life to you.”
Ben grabbed me and kissed me. He pulled us together so tight, there was no room to breathe. I kissed him back until I felt an arm between us.
“Not yet, son,” Dave said, pulling us apart and laughing. “We still have a small formality to take care of.”
“Oh,” Ben said, smiling at me. “Right.”
Dave smiled and turned to him. “Ben, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
“I do,” he said, looking directly at me.
“And do you, Elsie, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
“I do,” I said and nodded, smiling widely.
“Then by the power vested in me by the State of Nevada, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
It was dead quiet for a minute as we were both frozen. Ben looked at Dave expectantly.
“Now, son!” Dave said. “Now’s your chance. Kiss the bride. Give her everything you’ve got.”
Ben grabbed me and spun me. He kissed me hard on the lips. It felt so good, a kiss like that. It just felt so good.
Dave chuckled to himself and started to walk away. “I’ll let you kids calm down,” he said and, before he made it through the door, “You know, I marry a lot of people, but I have a feeling about you two.”
Ben and I looked at each other and smiled. “Do you think he says that to everyone?” Ben asked.
“Probably,” I said, and I threw myself onto his body. “Are you ready to go to eat wings?”
“In a minute,” he said, running his hands through my hair and then pulling me closer. “I want to spend a few seconds looking at my wife.”
NOVEMBER
I pick up the check and I get in the car. I go to Citibank and cash it. I have a purpose and an energy I’ve lacked for some time, but I know what I want to do and I know I can do it.
The bank teller cashes the check somewhat hesitantly. She has no reason not to cash it, but I imagine she doesn’t often have a twenty-six-year-old woman come in and cash a fourteen-thousand-dollar check. I ask for it in hundreds.
It won’t fit in my wallet, so I have to take it in a few money envelopes. I get in my car and I drive to the biggest bookstore I can find. I walk into the store feeling like my purse is on fire, and my mind is reeling. I am wandering in circles before an employee asks if she can help. I ask her how to find the young adult section, and the young woman leads me to it. She splays her hand out to show me the shelves—stacks and stacks of books, brightly colored with titles in large display print.
“I’ll take it,” I say.
“What?” she says back to me.
“Can you help me get it to the register?”
“The whole section?” she asks me, shocked.
It’s too many books to fit in my car, too many books to take anywhere by myself, so the store agrees to have them delivered. I take three stacks myself and put them in my car, and then I drive myself to the Fairfax Library.
I see Lyle the minute I walk in, and he comes over to me.
“Hey, Elsie. Are you okay?”
“I’m good,” I say. “Can you help me get some stuff out of my car?”
“Sure.”
Lyle asks me how I’ve been and if I feel like coming back to work. He seems eager not to talk about my “episode,” and I am thankful for that. I tell him I will be back at work soon and then we make our way to my car.
I open the trunk.
“What’s this?” he says.
“This is the beginning of the Ben Ross Young Adult Section,” I say.
“What?”
“I’m having another truckload delivered tomorrow and donated to the library in Ben’s name.”
“Wow,” he says. “That’s very generous of you.”
“There’s only one stipulation,” I say.
“Okay?”
“When the books start to smell musty, we gotta get rid of them. Donate them to another library.”
Lyle laughs. “What?”
I grab a book from the trunk and fan its pages in front of Lyle’s face. I smell them myself. “Smell how clean and new that smells?” I say.
“Sure,” Lyle says.
“Once they start smelling like library books, we’re gonna donate them to another library and replace them with this.” I hand Lyle the rest of the cash. It’s wrapped in an envelope, and I’m sure it looks like we’re dealing drugs.
“What the . . . ” Lyle says to me. “Put that away!”
I laugh, finally seeing this from his perspective. “I should probably just write a check . . . ”
Lyle laughs. “Probably. But you don’t have to do this.”
“I want to,” I say. “Can we have a plaque made?” I ask.
“Sure,” he says. “Absolutely.”
“Awesome.” I put some books in his arms and grab some myself, and we head into the library.
“You’re sure you’re okay, Elsie?” he asks me as we head into the building.
“Positive.”
Ana comes over for dinner. We eat, just the two of us, on my couch and we drink wine until it’s time to stop. I laugh with her and I smile. And when she goes home that night, I still have Ben in my heart and in my mind. I don’t lose him just by having a good time without him. I don’t lose him by being myself with her.
DECEMBER
I give myself time to adjust, and then one morning when I feel up to it, I go back to work. The air in Los Angeles has officially cooled down and hovers around forty-five degrees. I put on a jacket I haven’t worn since last winter and I get in my car. While a part of me feels shaky about this next part, the part where I start my job again for real and I put the past behind me, I walk through the doors. I walk up to the admin offices and I sit down at my desk. There aren’t a lot of people in the office yet this morning, but the few that are clap for me as I walk in. I see there’s a major donor pin on my desk. They aren’t clapping for me because I’m a widow back at work. They are clapping for me because I did something good for the library. I am something to them other than a woman who lost her husband. There is more to me than that.
The day goes by as days at work do. I find myself enjoying the camaraderie of my job for the first time in months. I like being needed here. I like talking to people about books. I like it when kids ask where to find something and I can squeeze in a mini-lesson on the Dewey decimal system.
Around noon, the boxes of books are delivered and brought to my desk. I don’t have the shelf set up yet, so they sit on the floor, burying my desk. I recognize some of the titles. Ben used to have some of them before I gave them to Susan. Others look new to me. Some look pretty interesting; others look mind-numbingly stupid. As I take stock, I laugh about the fact that my husband used to love to read children’s books. Life never turns out like you think. You don’t think you’d end up with a man that likes to read literature aimed at twelve-year-olds; you also don’t think you’ll lose that man so soon. But if that’s the case, I have many more surprises left in my life, and they can’t all be bad.
I call Susan and tell her about the books. I can’t tell if she’s laughing or crying.
“You actually said to them that the books can’t get musty?”
“Yep,” I say from my desk. “They have to donate them someplace else.”
She laughs, even if she’s crying. “I might finally take out a library book then,” she tells me. I laugh. “Actually,” she says, “I want to do it too. I’ll add to the fund. I don’t want them to ever run out of fresh-smelling books.”
“Really?” I ask, excited. “Oh, man! We can make it the Ben and Susan Ross Young Adult Section.”
“No, your name should be there too. Oh! And Steven’s! It should say The Ross Family Young Adult Section. For the four of us. Cool?”
I try not to acknowledge the tenderness of the moment, but I can’t help but be overwhelmed.
“Okay,” I say, my voice small and quiet.
“E-mail me later and tell me where to send the check, okay? I’ll call you this weekend.”
I hang up the phone and try to go back to work, but my mind is fluttering from one thing to another.
Mr. Callahan doesn’t come through the doors all day. I ask Nancy when she saw him last.
“Oh, geez,” she says. “It’s been at least two months.”
When five o’clock rolls around, I excuse myself and head to Cedars-Sinai hospital.
I ask the nurse at the front desk where I can find Mrs. Lorraine Callahan. The nurse looks her up in the computer and says there is no Lorraine Callahan currently admitted. I get back in the car and drive down the street from the library. I find the house I think is Mr. Callahan’s.
I walk up to the front door and ring the doorbell. It doesn’t seem like it’s ringing so I knock on the door. It takes a few tries before he comes. When he does, he opens the door and looks at me through the screen.
“Elsie?” he says, disbelieving.
“Hey, George, can
I come in?”
He opens the screen and makes room for me at the door. The house looks disheveled and sad. I know that Lorraine is not here.
“How are you, George?”
“I’m fine,” he says, not really listening to my question.
“How are you?” I say, this time more sincere, more pointed.
His voice turns to a quiver. “I can’t even get out of bed most days,” he says. “It’s not worth it.”
“It is,” I say. “It is worth it.”
He shakes his head. “You don’t know,” he says. “No one does.”
“No, you’re right about that,” I say. “You two were together for so long. I can’t begin to imagine how lost you must feel. The thing is though, George, you may be old, but you have a lot of fight in you. Lorraine wouldn’t want you to go down this easy.” I grab his shoulder and focus his eyes on mine. “C’mon,” I say. “Let’s go get a beer.”
And just like that, I am there for someone. I am not the one in pain. I am not suffering. I am helping. My life without Ben felt like it was nothing, but here I am, doing something with it.
Mr. Callahan nods his head reluctantly and puts on his shoes.
“Think they’ll card me?” he says. We both laugh, even though it wasn’t that funny. We have to find little ways to smile. No matter how strong you are, no matter how smart you are or tough you can be, the world will find a way to break you. And when it does, the only thing you can do is hold on.
When Mr. Callahan and I get to the bar, he goes straight for the bartender. I hang back for a minute before I meet him. I breathe in and out. I look at what’s around me. A guy comes up to me and asks what a gorgeous girl like me is doing here during a happy hour. He asks if he can buy me a drink.
I don’t say yes, but I also don’t punch him in the face. Mr. Callahan agrees with me that I’m making progress. Plus, New Year’s Eve is just around the corner, and who knows what the year will bring.
JUNE
We woke up in the hotel room in Las Vegas. The bed was wide; the sheets were luxurious. There was a Jacuzzi bathtub within four steps of the bed. The bright shining sun was already finding its way through the curtains, peeking around the edges and through the middle. My life had never felt so exciting, so full of possibilities.
Forever, Interrupted Page 25
