by Lori L. Otto
Teresa had offered to be my “sitter” once I was released from the hospital. Her job as a writer kept her home most of the time, anyway, and she complained that the apartment was just too quiet without me there. I did voice my opinion about this option, begging my family to not make me go back there yet. Had I been forced back to my apartment, I would have had literally no escape from her sex life. It was bad enough before; it would be a million times worse now, hearing other people enjoy the pleasures that I was sure I never would enjoy again. How could I? Nate was my soulmate. Now that he is gone, I have nothing to look forward to.
“We’re home,” Chris announces. My dad hops out of the backseat of the car and pulls the wheelchair out of the trunk. Chris walks around to my side of the car and helps to put me in the chair. “Em, the first thing we’re going to do is get you to eat something. You’ve lost a lot of weight... you should not be this easy to pick up,” he jokes. Even if the hospital food had actually been good, I had no appetite to eat. I held on to the empty feeling. Wanted to feel it, wanted to live it, wanted to remember it, remember Nate every second. If memories were all I would ever have of him now, I wanted them all the time.
I close my eyes and smile weakly to myself as I remember lying on top of him in his bed the morning after the crash. It’s still hard to believe that didn’t happen. It was too real. He was too real... too Nate. The way he smelled. The soft touch of his hand climbing up my thigh. How he peeked at me with one eye still closed, teasing me, and the quiet laugh that escaped his lips. The desire I could see in his eyes and feel in the air around me. If only I could breathe that air, surround myself with him.
“I’m not hungry,” I tell Chris.
“Too bad,” he responds. “We have a ton of food and someone has to help me eat it.” He pushes me into his first-floor apartment, where I am greeted by my step-mother.
“Hi, Emi,” she says.
“Hi, Elaine,” my greeting monotone, with no emotion. She visited me once with my dad in the hospital. I like his second wife a lot. I think they’re a good match, better than my mom and dad had ever been together. She comes over to hug me.
“I brought some comforts from home,” she says. Chris pushes me into his guest room, where the room is made up with my things. My comforter and my pillows are on the bed. Some of my pictures are hung on the walls, though noticeably, none of the paintings Nate had given me over the years are here. As much as I don’t know whether or not I’m ready to see them, their absence is undeniable and deliberate. I pull the comforter toward me and sniff it. It smells clean, the sanitary smell of detergent. How I wanted his smell to be on there.
“I washed everything up for you,” Elaine tells me, smiling. I start to cry. “Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry, I didn’t think...” she trails off, herself beginning to cry, my dad walking over to comfort her. I wonder if there will be a trace of him left anywhere in this world. Did they just destroy all evidence of him while I was in the hospital? They buried him without me there. I didn’t even get to say goodbye. The one person who doesn’t remember him even leaving this world didn’t even get to say goodbye. I guess that’s why it’s still so hard for me to accept. I’m not entirely sure I want to accept it. A small part of my mind just believes that he’s away for awhile, and that this whole death thing is a fabricated lie to hide his actual whereabouts from me. Like a fucking soap opera or something.
I’m not ready to say goodbye. I just want to cling to him, like I did that following morning. Basking in the bright sun, we were together and happy. It felt like forever was encompassed in that singular moment. His bare skin was so warm beneath mine, his kiss soft and gentle. His smile soothed me, his arms protected me from harm. I want Nate back. I want my forever back.
“It’s okay, Elaine,” Chris says at my lack of response, alerting me of my actual surroundings in his apartment and not Nate’s loft. “It’s fine.” I know she had good intentions, I do. I’m just beginning to fear what else of him might be gone for good. I’d do anything to be able to smell him, touch him, kiss him, just one more time. “Emi, there are clothes in the closet and the dresser. And I brought your computer, some books... your iPod’s right here.” He smiles, knowing how much I cherish my music.
“Emi, what can I fix you to eat?” my dad says, Elaine wiping the last tears from her eyes.
“I’m not hungry,” I remind him.
“Well, a lot of people have brought over food. You know Chris can’t cook,” he laughs. “You should probably take advantage of it.”
We go into the living room and Chris turns on the television before heading into the kitchen. I hobble to my feet and move to the couch, lying down on my side uncomfortably. “Dad, can I have a pillow?” Elaine walks into the bedroom and emerges with both of the pillows. She props them underneath my shoulders.
“Are you cold? Do you want a blanket?” she asks.
“No. I’m fine.” I stare blankly at the TV.
“Alright, Em,” Chris says, bringing in a plate and setting up a tray in front of me. “Sit up.”
“I don’t want to, Chris.”
“Emi, please do this for me. You have to eat. Just a little. It’s macaroni and cheese... Aunt Margie’s... your favorite.” I glare at him, but reluctantly sit up.
“Okay,” I sigh. It is macaroni and cheese. My favorite. I pick up the fork and take a bite. Flavorless.
“Thank you,” he says.
“Chris? Do you need anything else before we take off?” my dad asks.
“No, I think we’ll be okay. Anna’s coming by later, so if I think of anything, she’ll take care of us.”
“Okay,” he says. “Well, let us know if you change your mind.”
“Alright, Dad, Elaine,” he hugs them both. “Thanks for your help.” Dad nods before walking over and patting me on the leg.
“You call me anytime, hon,” he says. “We love you.” He looks at me, his eyes full of sympathy.
“Love you, too.” Overcome with emotions, my eyes start to water again.
“Oh, baby,” he says, hugging me.
“I’m fine, Dad,” I tell him, knowing that the embrace will only make the tears stream faster, harder, longer. “I’ll be fine.”
“I know you will,” he says with confidence. I’m glad he believes it. I was just saying it for his benefit. Elaine hugs me, then they leave together. I find a tissue and wipe my eyes and nose, breathing deeply to calm myself down. Chris goes back to the kitchen, and comes back with a plate full of food. He sits down next to me, putting the plate on the tray next to mine.
“If you want any of this,” he says, waving his hand over the food, “just take whatever.” I eye his fruit salad and stab my fork into a strawberry.
“Thanks,” I mumble to him. I shrug away when he puts his arm around me. “How could you let her do that?” I ask him angrily.
“Do what, Emi?”
“Wash my linens.”
“She thought you’d want clean sheets,” he scoffs.
“I want him. I don’t care about anything else.”
“We can’t give you him, Emi... he’s gone.”
“Well, then I want the next best thing. I want to smell him, Chris. When I lay my head on these pillows, I’m overwhelmed with spring fresh-ness. It used to smell like his soap and his cologne.”
“Elaine was only trying to make it more comfortable for you.”
“You should have stopped her. For me. And you’ve gone to the trouble of bringing my fucking decorations over here, but where are his paintings? Where are his things? This doesn’t help me. This doesn’t make it feel like home. Home is where he is.”
“I know you’re angry, Emi. But we’re only trying to help.”
“Well then bring me his t-shirts that I usually sleep in. Hang one of his paintings in my room. Show me a fucking picture of him or something. Prove to me that he lived... that he loved me.”
“We didn’t think you’d want to be constantly reminded of him.”
“Well
, I do. He’s all I think about anyway. Why wouldn’t I want something tangible of his?”
“Alright, truthfully, we didn’t think you should be constantly reminded of him. We thought it would be best for you.”
“You don’t know what’s best for me. None of you do. None of you could have any idea what’s best for me. What would you want, if you were me?”
“I don’t even want to think about that, Emi,” he says as he takes our plates into the kitchen.
“You’d want something to hold on to,” I tell him with certainty.
“I don’t know what I’d want,” he calls back to me.
“Well I know what I want. Just... something, Chris... please?”
“Emi...”
“What’s happening with his loft?” I ask him, hoping to preserve it exactly how it was when he last left it, hoping his scent will linger on his sheets long enough for me to go over there.
“Donna is taking care of it,” he explains.
“What does that mean, exactly?”
“Emi, I don’t know what that means. But if you think no one understands what you’re going through, you’re wrong. She knows.”
“Well, then why didn’t you consult her and ask her opinion?”
“You know why, Emi? Because she just lost her son, that’s why. She has her own grieving to do, and we’re going to let her do that. You’re not the only one affected by his death.”
I want nothing more than to storm out of the living room, but in my current condition, I would need his help to do that... and that would be pointless. I stare blankly at the television, unable to focus. Chris laughs at the sitcom. How the fuck can he laugh?
“This show sucks... can we watch something else?” I know I’m being selfish, but why does he get to be happy? Why does he get to find pleasure in anything? I don’t get to.
“Sure,” he mumbles. “Is there anything in particular you wanted to watch? I recorded your shows for you, if you want to catch up on them.”
“Whatever,” I sigh. Part of me doesn’t want to see them, doesn’t want to find enjoyment in them... but another part is curious to see if the distraction will actually deter my constant thoughts of Nate and my inability to remember the events of the night– and then my stranger ability to remember the events of something that never even happened. I decide to indulge my curiosity and watch the shows, but I quickly realize that nothing can keep the vision of him out of my mind.
Anna shows up a few hours later as Chris and I are propped up on opposite sides of the couch.
“Emi,” she greets me, “it’s good to see you out of that drab hospital room!”
“Thanks.” She hugs me and then walks over to kiss Chris before sitting down in his lap. I sigh, watching their affectionate exchange. I try to focus again on the television.
“How was your day?” he asks her.
“It was good,” she says. “Yours?”
“Fine,” he tells her. “We got settled okay.”
“Good,” she smiles. “Em, is there anything you need?”
“Nope,” I answer, quickly tiring of everyone’s concern for me.
“Well,” she says. “Your brother didn’t want to help you bathe, so sister, you got me.”
“Fuuuunnn,” I say without enthusiasm.
“Let’s go figure this out,” she suggests. She begins to get the wheelchair.
“Please, no,” I tell her, struggling with my immobile limbs to eventually stand up on my own. “I’d rather limp.”
“Very well.” She takes my bandaged arm and helps me toward my temporary room which has its own bathroom. She closes the door behind us. “I want to talk to you for a minute,” she whispers.
“Okay,” I sigh.
“First, I want you to know you can come to me whenever for whatever, okay?”
“I know that.”
“Now, I don’t want to upset you more...” she starts. “but I’ve been really trying to put myself in your shoes... trying to figure out what I can do for you... like, if I were you, what would I want...”
“Okay...” Finally... someone...
“And it’s an awful thought, Emi, and my heart aches for you,” she says. I look at her, searching for her reason for this line of conversation. “I know there’s nothing that can bring him back,” she adds. I nod. “But if I were in your shoes– and just tell me you don’t want it if you don’t, it won’t hurt my feelings...”
“What, Anna?” I say impatiently.
“If it was me, I’d want something that felt like Chris, something that made me feel closer to him.” I nod again, relieved that someone is actively trying to understand me, how I feel. “So, I brought this for you.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out a zippered plastic bag. I recognize immediately what is inside. My face crumples, remembering the last time I saw the black striped silk tie. He wore it to the party. I took it off of him, put it around my neck. Later in the night, he ceremoniously untied it, taking it off of my naked body. I open the bag slightly and inhale deeply. It smells just like him. His scent, mixed with a faint hint of the cologne he often wore. The sobbing overwhelms me.
“Shhhh,” Anna comforts me. “Jen and I... we found it in your hotel room. Jen said that Nate told her it’s your favorite.”
“It is,” I gasp.
“Listen, Emi, Chris doesn’t know I brought this. He didn’t think it would be good for you to have it, not this soon. I promised I wouldn’t give it to you, but if it was me, Em, I’d want something... something that made me feel like a part of him was still with me.”
“Thank you so much, Anna,” I whisper, trying to control the crying. The last thing I want is for someone to take this precious article of his clothing away from me. I quickly seal the bag up to contain his smell. “I need this.” I hug it tightly to my chest, closing my eyes, remembering that night and keeping close the sacred moments that Nate and I shared between us in the hotel room.
“I thought you might,” she says. “Let’s put it somewhere safe,” she adds, tucking it under the mattress. She hands me a tissue and hugs me as I calm down, as the tears cease. “Alright... shower?”
“Great,” I murmur. “Please, humiliate me now.”
“You’re lucky it’s me and not Chris,” she tells me. “Get over it and come on.”
After the shower that seemed to go on forever, Anna leaves me alone in my bedroom to attempt to dress on my own. I need to be able to do some things on my own. I hate relying on other people.
I open the dresser and pull out some underwear and pajamas. My flannel pants and thermal shirt should be sufficient. I had gotten used to sleeping in Nate’s t-shirts, but no matter how far I dig in the drawers, none of them managed to make it to Chris’s apartment. Someone was screening my clothing options. I just hoped they were still at my apartment. Or his apartment. I wonder what will happen to his loft. I wonder what Donna has done, if she’s already sorted through his things. Would she give me anything to remember him by? Would I ever get the chance to go there again? Would I want to? It was my place to escape, my second home. I wonder if it’s already emptied out... I wonder if I’ll ever get to see it again. I loved his loft. Loved being there with him. I have so many memories of us there, going many years back. The place had become sacred to me even before he... left... I had hoped to move in there with him one day.
His loft appears once more when I close my eyes. This was the last place I was with Nate, only now I understand that it was a dream. In his arms that morning, I had never felt more safe or more complete. In the aftermath of what could have shattered us to pieces, we were whole in those moments together.
But it did shatter us to pieces.
I held him that morning, just like he asked me to. I held him tight. I could feel his love move through me in each labored breath. They were labored, I remember now. He tried to be strong, to mask his pain, but I could hear it in his voice now, in my vivid memory of what didn’t really happen.
But it did happen, didn’t
it? I was holding him when he breathed his last breath... when his precious, delicate soul left his body...
It had been so bright in his room. So bright it was almost painful to look, and yet my eyes were drawn to the windows as if they called out to me. Was this the light they talk about when people die? Was it coming to take Nate?
Was it coming to take me? The air around me becomes stagnant and still, making it difficult to breathe.
I was so close, so close to being with him forever. Maybe one less gasp of air, or one more drop of blood, leaving my body. One more second without help. If the impact had been a little stronger. Had I not been wearing a seatbelt. If he had pulled into the intersection a second earlier. Or later.
I could be with him and our baby.
Why couldn’t I have gone with him?!
Why didn’t he take me with him?
The crying envelops me wholly, so quickly and powerfully that I have a hard time breathing. My head feels tight, throbbing, stars filling the darkness when I squeeze my eyes tightly shut.
Gasping for air, I crawl under the covers and begin to reach for the baggie when someone knocks on the door.
A loud sob is all I can force out. Go away is what I wanted to say.
“Em, can I come in?” Chris asks.
Not catching on to my silent message, he enters the room, carrying my pillows. “Thought you might want these.” I take them into my arms and fall into them, burying my head into the comforting down, wishing they would suffocate me.
“What is it, Emi?” Chris whispers between breaths, sitting next to me and rubbing his hand up and down my back.
“Why couldn’t I have gone with him?” I wail.
“It obviously wasn’t your time,” he answers plainly as he moves his hand to the back of my neck, rubbing the tense muscles. He can’t know this, but I can. I know that Nate and I were soul mates, that we were meant to be together, forever... wherever that forever may have been. I start to take some deep breaths, trying to calm myself under Chris’s soothing touch.