Lost

by Christina Draper

  Normally I would have taken her up on it, but I had something in mind for the day.

  Sam and Carey had finished up their breakfast and were putting their plates in the sink.

  “Boys, can you go outside with everyone else? I want to talk to Anthony and Bee for a second.” I asked.

  They both nodded and went outside.

  I looked to Bee. “Bee, you know I’d take you up on your offer, but I was hoping the kids could hang out here with you this morning.”

  “Of course,” she reassured me. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah. It’s just that... well, last night when I went upstairs to get my stuff, I realized that I still have all of Brian’s things in the closet. I’ve even left his work boots by the window seat, after all these months. I don’t know... I was just looking at those boots, and it dawned on me that he had only worn them a couple of times. Someone else could get a lot of use out of them. I just feel like it’s time... time to go through his things. I have some things in mind for the kids. His black suit would look great on Sam now, and Carey always liked the gray cardigan Brian had. Things like that. But his T-shirts, his jeans... someone else could put them to good use. They aren’t doing much just hanging in my closet.”

  The mark of a good friend, in my book, is knowing when to say something and knowing when to stay quiet. Anthony and Bee seemed to sense that this was a real turning point for me, and they let me ramble. When I was done, Bee spoke up.

  “You know what? I think that sounds like a great idea. If the kids stay here, that will give you time to box things up and do what you need to without them underfoot. Anthony is going to be home, and we were thinking of taking Ant to the water park. Why don’t we take all the kiddos and make a day of it?”

  We all had passes to the local amusement park, and our families often went together. The kids would go off and do their thing. Sam and Carey usually let the girls tag along with them, and the adults would find our own way. I think the four of us liked the park as much as the kids. We rode the roller coasters and screamed with the best of them. The guys would have a beer and laugh while Bee and I danced on stage. Amy and Ben would come with us when they had time, and the six adults always had a great time. And now, I would be the fifth wheel.

  “That sounds great! Jimmy has been after me to go, and we just haven’t gotten around to it.”

  Anthony clapped his hands and nodded his head, “I’m in. Can we borrow your van, J?”

  I had a big, ugly, green Ford E-350. I had no problem admitting it was huge and far from the hottest ride on the streets, but I loved it. I even named her Zilla. Brian had been after me to trade it in. We had even looked at a few newer models, but I was reluctant to give up my monster.

  “Sure! She’s all gassed up, and she’s yours. I really appreciate it, guys... I think I’ll head to the house now. I’ll get the girls’ things ready, and maybe Carey and Sam can head over to get the boys’ stuff soon.”

  “Sounds good! If we leave soon, we can probably avoid some of the summer rush,” Bee replied. The park always got busy in the afternoon, but on weekday mornings, it was always quiet.

  I gave Bee a quick hug and kissed Anthony on his balding head. Then I ran upstairs, collected my things, and slipped out the front door.

  Chapter 12

  I looked around the neighborhood that I loved and took a deep breath.

  When we moved there 14 years ago, I was pregnant with Jimmy. Brian wasn’t quite sold on a community, rather he was pushing for us to buy some land and to build a house, but Carey was just a baby, Sam was starting school, and I just wanted to be close to other people. Bee and Anthony were the very first people we met. Actually, Anthony was.

  Brian was yelling at me from the back of the U-Haul. “You’re not going to help me lift this! Seriously. Move, woman,” he fussed at me.

  “DON’T talk to me like that, Brian! It isn’t that heavy.” I had my hand on my stomach. I was only six months pregnant, but already felt as big as a house.

  “J, this thing weighs like 300 pounds. Get out of my way. I’ll use the dolly.”

  “Really? That’s gonna be tough going up that hill.” I moved to the rear of the U-Haul truck’s cargo bay and shook my head at my husband.

  Then we heard a voice call to us from outside, “HEY! You guys need any help?”

  I stuck my head out and saw a handsome man with skin the color of coffee coming up our driveway. He was tall—like 6’6” tall. And he was big—football player big—and his even bigger voice seemed to boom from his barrel chest.

  “Hi. Yes! Thank you so much!” I waddled down the ramp and stuck my hand out. “I’m Julie Klevan, and that guy—the stubborn one in the truck—is my husband, Brian.”

  Brian came down relieved that he didn’t have to maneuver the heavy dresser into the house himself. “Hi there. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  “No! That’s what neighbors are for!”

  And that was the start of a friendship that had endured a lot of great moments... and a lot of life’s tests.

  Bee and I were pregnant with Ant and Jimmy, respectively, at the same time. Ant was their youngest. They also had a daughter, Karie. Karie was 8 when Ant was born, so that made her a bit older than Sam. I didn’t know about Bee’s miscarriages until she lost a baby in her fifth month. That was two years after Ant was born. Come to find out that was her fifth miscarriage, and she told me she was done. When Anthony was at work, and she cried, I held her hand. Amy and I even took her away for a girls’ weekend on what would have been the baby’s due date.

  When Sam broke his leg playing basketball, Bee was the one to go to the hospital with me, since Brian was out of town.

  When Brian’s father died, Anthony went with him to the lake house to clear out some of his things.

  And when I fell apart for those few, dark weeks after Brian’s death, Bee and Amy took turns staying with me. They would sleep on a small cot Anthony put in my room. I woke up more than once at night to find myself comforted by my friend.

  We were always there for each other. And we always tried to include each other, and our kids. We always joked that we each had seven kids—as opposed to the five and two that we actually had.

  When Anthony took Ant fishing, our kids were often included in those weekends, and vice versa. Camping trips. Cookouts. Game night.

  When we moved into the neighborhood, that is what I wanted—for me, my kids... my family. Friendship.

  * * *

  I was an only child, and I was never close to my parents. My mom died when I was six, and my father was a cold, quiet man. When he passed away 12 years later, I felt a loss, but I didn’t feel lost. I had been on my own for years, so his death just made it formal.

  But when I met Brian, we made our own type of family—one that worked for us. Brian was also an only child, but he was close to his parents, and when we got married, his parents welcomed me with open arms. His mother, Lynette, used to joke I was the child she had always wanted, and she became the mother I never had. Her death was hard on us all, but Mark, Brian’s father, pushed forward because he knew what they had. Mark used to tell me all the time that the memories of the good times he had with his wife kept him warm on a cold night. He held all the memories close to his heart, and it wasn’t until after he passed that we found the scrapbooks he made for Brian, the kids, and I.

  “J! Looks like my dad took a scrapbooking class.” Brian came into the house late one evening after he and Anthony got home. The guys had been up at the lake house cleaning out Mark’s den.

  “What?” I looked up from the vegetables I was chopping.

  Brian brought in a box filled with books and papers. On top were three beautiful, leather-bound scrapbooks. I picked one up and opened it. In Mark’s precise handwriting was a note to Brian and I.

  My Dearest Son and Daughter,

  First of all, this is all your mother’s crap. That woman saved everything! Report cards, art projects (Apparently she thought you w
ere some sort of Picasso, Brian!), trophies, and pictures. You know me. I would have kept the pictures and thrown most of the other stuff away. But when your mom died, I realized why she kept it all. For the memories. The good ones and the bad. I was just going to give you the boxes she had and tell you to take what you wanted, but then I found her pictures. See, Mom printed out all the pictures I took! You remember how long it took me to figure out how to put them on my computer. That damn camera you two got me. But your mom. She got it. She printed them out and kept them. She put them in a box with all the old pictures we had of you growing up. Your football games, your swim meets, your graduation. It was all there. And so I went to the craft store and this nice young lady helped me pick some stuff out. I wasn’t gonna waste my money on some class, so I just looked stuff up online and used magazines. And I made these for you two and the kids.

  Look at them. Tell the kids about the first touchdown you scored, and the first time you came home drunk. Yep, Mom had a picture of that too! Brian, tell the kids how you botched your proposal to Julie (YES, Mom took a picture. I’m surprised you didn’t see her around the corner!). And Julie, tell them how you said yes anyway.

  Keep them and look at them. Remember the past, live in the present, and look forward to the future.

  I love you all,

  Dad

  Each book was beautiful. The pages had themes. They had tickets to football games, graduation announcements, our wedding invitation, birth announcements, but most importantly they had little comments that Mark had inserted. His observations. His notes on things he saw. And Brian and I treasured those.

  I had started to keep little things like that myself, thinking I would make one for each of the kids. I just never realized I would be starting them at 38. I had hoped my books would be like the ones Mark made for us—something I put together when I was in my twilight years. I would have pictures of weddings and grandchildren to include. I would have decades of memories to comment on. And though I had close to twenty years with Brian, it wasn’t enough. I had wanted more. I still wanted more. I wanted decades, centuries. I wanted a complete lifetime with this man, who even in death had such a hold on my heart. And though I felt robbed, I also realized that the time we did have was wonderful. I realized that the years we had together were filled with more laughter than many people get in a century. It was filled with tears and heartache, but also infinite joy. Brian had given me memories that could sustain me for the rest of my life, and if I couldn’t have him, at least I had those.

  * * *

  I walked up the steep driveway to the front door and stood on the stoop. Even after all these months, I was still surprised at the memories that would surface. I was surprised at the little things that would trigger my recollections. I had thought of those scrapbooks on and off for the past few years, and maybe it was the idea of going through Brian’s things that made me think of them on this day. I steadied myself, getting ready to face the daunting task in front of me. I fished my keys out of my pocket and went into the house.

  It was a bit warm. I guess I forgot to turn the AC on the previous day. I walked over to the thermostat and set it for a comfortable 75. Brian used to fuss that I kept it too warm in the summer and too cold in the winter. I let out a sad laugh. His fussing was one of the things I would miss the most. It’s true what they say—you miss the strangest things.

  I walked into the kitchen, ready to tackle the dishes, and looked at the back door. I miss not having to yell at him to shut the back door. He always left it open, and the screen door just let out all the cool air.

  And then with a glance of the microwave, I missed that sudden slam of its door whenever Brian used it to heat up something.

  The little things! I thought to myself. Well, today is going to be a busy day, so I better get to it.

  It was only 9:30, so I had plenty of time before animal control showed up. I hummed as I finished washing the dishes, and when I was done, I turned on the dishwasher to tend to the rest.

  I was ready to do this.

  * * *

  I went downstairs into the basement and grabbed some boxes. Then I went into Brian’s workshop. I looked around at the machines and all the tools meticulously placed on the walls. I needed to talk to the boys to see if there was anything they wanted. I walked over to the desk to look for some packing tape, and then I saw it.

  Brian had always loved to do little woodworking projects. We had stools he made in the kitchen, and I had a beautiful chest in our bedroom for our linens that he crafted for me one cold winter. But I had never seen something like this.

  I had a lot of jewelry—nothing too fancy—though I had my wedding rings and some beautiful diamond earrings Brian had bought me for our tenth anniversary. I had complained one day that it was just all over my dresser. I had little cardboard boxes or tiny silk bags, but I needed a jewelry box. I guess Brian remembered.

  I hadn’t been down there since he died as I wasn’t one to do much around the house in regards to repairs. Sam occasionally did quick fixes here and there, but there was never a reason for me to come down. I guess I never thought to see what Brian had been working on when he died. In the corner, on the old desk on which he used to come up with designs was a beautiful maple box. The swirls and patterns drew my eye, and I gently lifted the lid. Inside were tiny, velvet-covered compartments—each one waiting for a piece of jewelry to be nestled inside of it. When I lifted up the first layer, I found a note in Brian’s handwriting with a date—November 10, 2012.

  The day before he died.

  To the light of my life,

  Thanks for taking this diamond in the rough and making him gleam. I love you with all that I am.

  I took a deep breath, put the velvet compartment back in its place, closed the lid, and ran my hand over the smooth, gorgeous wood. It would be the last gift I ever got from my husband. I held it to my chest and grabbed the packing tape from the desk. I took everything upstairs with me and walked into our bedroom.

  Our bedroom, because if I was being honest, the room would forever be ours. Right there, right then, walking into the bedroom, I couldn’t believe I ever thought it was just my room. Time would pass, and I might get rid of some of his things, but Brian was there. I could feel him, and since I was alone in the house, I spoke aloud.

  “I miss you. I miss you so much, but I want you to know that I’m holding it together. Some days are easier than others.” I started going through my jewelry while I talked to Brian, “But each day gets a little easier than the one before it.”

  I took out the turquoise necklace that Brian and Sam picked out for me last year. “Remember this necklace? I said it was too big for me, and you just told me to be quiet and put it around my neck. I loved it. Oh, and these are the earrings that you and Jimmy bought me... What? Three years ago? ’Tiny waterfalls’ is what the girls said.”

  I started putting away my rings, sliding them into the tiny slots. “Sam’s home. I don’t think Duke felt right to him with you gone. I hope you understand. I thought about it, and I think the kids were right. I needed to let Sam follow his heart on this one. I thought he would go to Old Dominion, down the road, but he decided to go to community college. I won’t lie—it’s nice having him here. He’s a big help. Oh! He took Carey to get his license a few weeks ago. I can’t believe he’s 16. And Jimmy... Oh, Brian! Jimmy has a girlfriend. You met her when you went to Busch Gardens with Jimmy’s class. Claudia. Such a sweet girl. And the girls made honor roll... again!”

  I picked up the first piece of jewelry Brian had bought me. Again it was one he and Sam had picked out. Back then Sam was the only little one we had. It was a pretty bracelet with rough-cut turquoise stones linked together. I used to wear it to work everyday. I rubbed each stone and was surprised to find that I was smiling. “I remember when the two of you gave this to me. I told you that you didn’t need to get me anything. Remember? We were saving up to buy a dining room table for the townhouse.”

  Our first home was
a run-down townhouse. We had scrimped and saved for the down payment, and when we moved in, we didn’t have much furniture. For about six months we ate on the floor. Sam loved it, but I wanted a table. But Sam had thrown a fit, or so Brian said. It was the first Mother’s Day that he had a mother, and he wanted a gift to show me how much he loved me. So Brian took him to the mall, thinking he would pick out something small such as a book I wanted. But Sam zoned in on the bracelet and wouldn’t take no for an answer. I used to give him quarters for helping me around the house, and unbeknownst to Brian, Sam had put all his quarters in a little bag. He also had five dollars that Mark had given him, and he pulled it out when the pretty, young clerk came over to ask him if he needed any help.

  Brian told me that Sam had $9.75 on him, and he was so earnest and sweet that the young lady called the owner over. The bracelet was about five times what Sam had, but the old man was so touched by Sam’s story that he sold him the bracelet for $9.75. Brian was so grateful that he returned to that same store, Everything Silver, year after year and bought me a piece of jewelry. I loved that story and found myself laughing softly at the image of a young Sam buying me a bracelet.

  I put the bracelet lovingly in the box my husband made for me and closed the lid. “Oh, Brian. We did good. We did real good.”

  I put the jewelry box on my dresser. Since I had cleared off some of the little cardboard boxes, I had plenty of room to give the beautiful maple box the space it deserved. I went over and grabbed my iPod from my nightstand and popped it in the dock Brian had on his dresser. I found my favorite playlist and turned it on.

  Walking over to our closet, I decided to pull out things I wanted to keep or give to the kids first. That would make packing up everything else easier.

  I picked up the black suit Brian bought last year. Bee and Anthony, Amy and Ben, and Brian and I had all gone away for the weekend. We decided to splurge and go to The Greenbrier, a resort in West Virginia about five hours away. Prior to the trip, all the men went out and bought new suits, and because of that, all three of the women had to go out and get new dresses. Brian looked so handsome in that suit. And now Sam, who was just a bit shorter than Brian, could get some use out of the suit.