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Iwas the kind of thing people would write songs about.
A walking, talking commercial.
Something families would discuss over Sunday dinners or during drives to softball games.
Did you hear?
How terrible…
A bride on her wedding day—still dressed in white, though it was tattered, torn, and bloody now—sitting in the waiting room of our local emergency room, mascara staining both cheeks, waiting for the doctors to confirm what I’d prayed for hours wouldn’t be true.
But as the hours ticked on, as the time passed, I felt it in my gut. He wasn’t coming back to me.
When a doctor walked out of the double doors with a solemn expression, pulling his mask from his face with a limp hand, I knew.
I’d been through this before—the metallic smell of blood mixing with the strong, bleached scent of the waiting room, the nervous pacing of families and loved ones all around, my heart racing against the blips and beeps of the machines in nearby rooms, the sound of gurneys being rolled down hallways, of doctors speaking in hushed tones.
It was old hat by now.
A sick, ironic joke no one but the universe seemed to be in on.
He was gone.
Phil was gone.
I felt hands on my back before the doctor made it to us.
James.
Eric.
Jerry.
I wasn’t alone, and yet, I was. I was completely and utterly alone.
Across the room, his mother’s heart-wrenching wails filled my ears, drowning out the sounds of the doctor’s apology. His explanation.
They’d done all they could do.
There was nothing else.
He was gone.
The love of my life; my Phil. He was gone.
It was supposed to be the happiest day of our lives.
The beginning of the rest of our lives.
Now, everything we’d planned was torn to shreds. And I had no idea why.
In a split second, everything had changed. Everything had been ruined. Ripped away from me when it was all so close.
With a cruel twist of fate, what should have been lives became life.
Two became one.
We became just me.
Mrs. became Miss.
You thought you could find happiness…
Don’t you know better by now?
It wasn’t supposed to go this way.
They say the first year is always the hardest—but I never got to find out.
That was what I was thinking about as I packed my bags for the first-anniversary trip my husband would never get to go on. As I folded my clothing carefully into the luggage we received as a wedding gift from my stepfather—matching luggage for the many trips we’d someday take.
Now, his suitcase sat in the corner, a constant reminder that he’d never take another trip with me. That we’d never once get to take any of the trips we’d dreamed of. A sunset stroll in Hawaii, a romantic getaway to Santorini, a penthouse apartment with a perfect view of the Eiffel Tower in France, hitting the slopes in Switzerland. As quickly as you could snap two fingers—all our plans had vanished.
I’d give anything to have gotten through the hard days they warn you about. The screaming fights. The nights with one of us sleeping on the sofa. As if nothing could be worse than that.
Some people might say I’m lucky—in fact, some rather rude people have said just that. That my memories with Phil will always be happy. That we loved each other until the last moment and I’ll never have to live with regret over harsh words spoken or wounds that would never heal.
Of course, our relationship wasn’t all roses. We had our share of fights, like everyone does, but I loved him.
As much as one can love another human being.
And he loved me, too.
I closed the luggage, zipping it up just as the sound of the doorbell chimed through the house. Taking a deep breath, I moved across the room and then across the house.
I was still fighting back tears as I swung open the door and took in the sight of James, standing there waiting for me. His warm, caramel skin, perfectly faded hair, and chiseled jaw.
“It was locked.”
His smile warmed me, taking me back to the lazy afternoons spent under the oak tree in my backyard as a child. Afternoons playing make-believe and dreaming about what the future would look like.
If only we’d known…
Spying the pain that must’ve been etched into my face, he pulled me into a one-armed hug, the crisp, clean scent of his soap hitting me. I closed my eyes, hugging him tighter.
“We’re going to get through this,” he promised, pulling out of our hug too quickly and looking me over. His jaw twitched. “You aren’t alone. Not now, not ever.”
I nodded. “Thank you for coming with me.”
He pursed his lips. “Are you kidding? You know I wasn’t going to miss this.”
I couldn’t fight my smirk as I tilted my head toward the kitchen. “Do you want anything to drink? I’m just getting the rest of my things together.”
“Nah, I’ve got a coffee in the car. Need help with anything?”
“Actually, yes. Want to help me lug the suitcase so I can get the rest of my stuff?”
“Sure thing. Where’s
everyone else?”
We made our way toward my bedroom and, once there, he pulled my suitcase from the bed.
“I haven’t heard from Miles, but Eric should be here any minute.”
I didn’t miss the way he rolled his eyes at the mention of Miles. Last time the four of us were together, they hadn’t exactly gotten along. I could never quite get a read on the two of them. One minute, everything was fine. The next, it was one snide remark after the other.
I’d learned to ignore it.
“Can you help me with this?” I asked, reaching for the white cardboard box at the top of my closet.
“You got it.” He jogged around the side of the bed, squeezing beside me, and grabbed it from the top shelf. He passed it to me after peering inside. “Are those from the wedding?”
“Mm-hmm.” I wrapped my arms around it, hugging it close to my chest as I recalled the afternoon Phil and I had spent trying to put the box together. Folding this piece and tucking that one. It had been enough to give us both headaches as it collapsed for the fourth time.
I fought against the tears burning my eyes again, looking down.
“You haven’t opened them yet?”
A longing sensation filled my chest, so intense it was painful, and I swallowed. “I couldn’t. They’re meant to be opened on our first anniversary.”
“Well, yeah, but…”
But you didn’t make it to your first anniversary. He’s dead.
The truth of it hung in the air between us, unspoken yet there.
“I just couldn’t do it. I’m…I’m not even sure I’m ready to do it now. But I have to.”
He put a hand on my arm. “You don’t have to do anythin—”
The sound of my phone ringing interrupted us, and I reached for it on the nightstand.
“Sorry, just a sec.”
“Is that them?”
I sighed, spying the name on the screen. “It’s Amber.”
He didn’t bother trying to hide his scowl. “What does she want?”
I shrugged one shoulder as I pressed the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“I can’t.”
I paused, processing what she’d said. “Amber?”
“Yeah, who else?”
“You can’t what? I’m confused.”
“Uh, did you not text me and ask if I could check on Jerry this weekend?”
Realization clicked in for me. “Um, yes. Two days ago. He’s just not been feeling well. I’ve been taking him soup and I just refilled his prescription, so you literally just need to call and make sure he’s taken them every day around ten and two. And then I usually call at night, but sometimes he’s sleeping and—”
“I can’t,” she repeated, cutting me off. “I’ve got plans.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “It’s just a few phone calls to make sure he’s okay. I would do it myself but this weekend is—”
“I’m sorry. I can’t. I’ll try and text him if I get a chance, but no promises. You’re better with that sort of thing anyway.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you… I’ve been doing it, but I’m going away this weekend for the wedding anniversary. I’m not sure what I’ll be doing or how much service I’ll have, so I really need you to handle this for a few days. Just make sure he doesn’t need anything.”
She sighed. “It’s just a cold, isn’t it? Why do I have to check on him?”
“You know what? It’s fine.” I waved a hand in the air. “I don’t have time for this. I’ll just take care of it.”
“Thanks. You’re the best.” She sent an air kiss through the phone and ended the call.
I threw the phone down with a huff.
“Jerry’s sick?”
I’d nearly forgotten James was still there as I massaged my temples. “He’s got bronchitis, but he keeps forgetting to take his medicine. I was trying to see if Amber would help me out this weekend, but—”
“Let me guess, she’s busy.”
“Bingo.” My smile was small and bitter when I met his eyes.
He stepped forward, brushing a hand across my shoulder. “I’ll help remind you to call and check on him. We’ll make sure he’s okay.”
I rested my head on his chest, puffing out a breath. “What would I do without you?”
“Be lost, obviously.
I chuckled just as someone opened the door in the living room, and he pulled away. “I’ll go see who it is.”
I nodded, unable to speak as I attempted to pull myself together. Elephant in the room: my three closest friends were men. It was odd to a lot of people. James had always been my best friend, but before Phil’s death, I had several other friends, too. After his death, it became too hard. Too hard to see the ones who were in happy relationships. Too hard when they pressured me to talk about my feelings. Too hard to have the conversations they wanted to have.
Miles, James, and Eric were the exceptions to all of that. With them, we talked about everything except our feelings. They made me laugh. They didn’t treat me like I was made of glass; didn’t act as if being a widow was the biggest part of my personality. They didn’t stare at me with those looks I got from others—full of pity and heartbreak. Didn’t say things like I can’t even imagine or he’s in a better place. They just let me breathe. Let me laugh and talk about whatever I wanted to—or nothing at all, for that matter. They let me feel like I was normal. Like my life was normal. I needed that. I needed to be surrounded by people who would let me forget, if even for a second. It really was as simple as that.
Moments later, James returned with Eric just behind him. His dark-brown hair was perfectly styled as usual, his cheeks and chin boasting a good bit of stubble that meant he hadn’t shaved in a few days.
“Hey.” His gaze lingered on mine for a second too long, as if trying to gauge how upset I was, and then he looked away, shoving his hands in his pockets with a breathy sigh. “You about ready?”
“Just about.” If there was anyone this weekend would be hard for, aside from me, it was Eric. In truth, I was just as worried about him as I was myself.
By now, though, we were masters of pain. Well practiced in the art of breathing through it and pushing forward.
Here goes nothing…
He gave a thin-lipped smile. “Anything I can help with?”
“I don’t think so. We’re just waiting on Miles.” I glanced at the clock, realizing he was nearly half an hour late, and picked up my phone. “I’d better try to call him.”
Eric and James exchanged
a knowing glance.
“While you’re at it, we’ll load up the car. Is this it?” James gestured to the suitcase on the floor next to him and the lone toiletry bag left on the bed.
I nodded, searching for Miles’s phone number in my contacts before pressing the phone to my ear as Eric lifted my bag from the bed then followed James and my rolling luggage out the door.
“Almost there.” When Miles answered, he was calm and cool—his voice like pure butter as it trailed into my ear. I don’t think I’d ever heard him be anything but absolutely sure of himself.
“You’re late.” My fingers caressed the delicate detailing of the cardboard box in my arms.
“Ah, better late than never, as they say.” I heard the car shut off, alerting me that he’d arrived. Finally. “I’ll be at your door in two seconds. ...
