I loved watching Melanie and Maddy grow up, become sisters. I loved being able to mother another child, to nurture someone else even though she wasn’t my own blood.
When they left for college last fall, it was not an easy adjustment. But Linda, my rock and a constant source of support in my life, was right there to help me. Her divorce left her disillusioned with men, so thankfully, after years of trying, she finally stopped setting me up with friends of friends.
We’d spend our weekends shopping or redecorating room after room in one another’s house. We’d go to the spa or the salon, learning to pamper ourselves rather than waiting around for someone else to do it for us.
Just as the girls’ first semester was coming to a close, and I was getting excited to have them home for a solid month, my world spun upside down once again. But, loss is a funny thing. You get accustomed to it. It lives with you, breathes your air, and thrums in your veins. It never dissipates completely, just fades into the twilight, hanging in the background, waiting for the chance to present itself again.
Maddy’s car accident brought me right back to the center of darkness; it brought the ever-present force of loss back into the foreground. When she recovered, I made a simple, but huge, resolution to myself.
I was going to stop existing and start living.
I just didn’t know how.
So I did what I knew how to do best. I threw myself into Melanie and Maddy’s lives. I supported them through their tragedies in order to avoid healing my own. I talked Melanie down from her ledge of self-doubt and helped Maddy see the error of her ways.
The irony of it all is I helped all of the people I love the most find their own pieces of happiness, yet in the process, neglected to discover my own.
So here I am, lost in thought in the driveway of my now empty home.
I can’t help but get a little misty-eyed at that idea. I’m really and truly alone. Feeling my throat constrict with those heavy emotions, I huff out a deep breath.
I will not cry. I will not cry.
That’s been my mantra since I dropped Melanie back off at school and then helped Maddy, move out of the house. That’s a lot of emotions to deal with in a short span of time, but I’m trying my best to deal with them.
I grab my purse and the bag of Chinese take-out from the passenger seat. As I unlock the door and step over the threshold, the only thing that greets me is the quiet darkness of my empty house.
I know the nest has technically been empty since Melanie went to school last September, but it’s different now. It feels more final somehow. During her first semester, she came home a lot and I went to visit her a handful of times, so it didn’t feel like we were really apart. Her being away was still so new I don’t think I let myself wrap my head around it, at first. I couldn’t be more proud of her, but there’s a new sense of being really alone now that’s hanging over me. My baby girl is all grown up and on her own.
But, I’d be lying if I said that I’d ever be anything other than a mom. I could tell that there was something just off about Melanie as I was driving her back to school the other day. My “mom instincts” were on full alert, but my “girl senses” knew better than to push. Because she was in such a funk, leaving her at school on her own was somehow more gut wrenching this semester than it was last semester.
My hand hovers over the phone as my fingers itch to dial Melanie’s number. “No. It’s okay. She’ll be fine. I’m sure it’s nothing that a good, long chat with her girlfriends won’t fix.” Talking myself out of making what seems to be an unnecessary phone call, I laugh at my ridiculousness.
I’m talking to myself. Maybe I should get a cat. Nah, I’d probably adopt more than one and eventually turn into the crazy cat lady. A dog might not be a bad idea, though.
Shaking away the ideas of a pet and me, I get out a plate for my shrimp dumplings. Setting myself up in front of the television, I turn on the news. After a few minutes of hearing about “this” shooting and “that” tragic accident, I turn it off and finish my meal in silence.
When I’m all done, I load my plate in the dishwasher and lean up against the counter. Scanning the empty room, I feel a pang of guilt for every time I ever wished for peace and quiet when Melanie was a child.
I would give anything for a little bit of noise right now.
The silence is deafening. The solitude is depressing.
A bath. I need a bath.
But even that doesn’t help. The bubbles are soothing and the aroma of jasmine permeating the room is calming, but there’s still the gnawing emptiness that I feel creeping in. I guess in the last few months I’ve been able to shake it off most of the time. My ability to shake away my loneliness is apparently a superpower that’s fading.
“At least I have work tomorrow.” Talking to my reflection as I comb through my wet and tangled hair, I sigh sadly. Maybe a good night’s sleep will help.
I’m probably just feeling down because Melanie isn’t here. It’s been virtually just the two of us forever and now the only person who I have ever loved more than life itself is no longer here with me every day.
Feeling more than a little sentimental, I cozy up in bed and dial Melanie’s number. I know I shouldn’t be bothering her. Hell, I only dropped her off two days ago, but I just need to hear her voice.
Who am I kidding? I just need to hear a voice.
It rings and rings, but she never picks up. Sadly, even hearing her voicemail greeting is enough to calm me a little. They might be fitful, but at least I’ll be able to get a few hours of sleep tonight.
At least, I hope so.
“Good morning, sunshine.” Linda’s sarcasm is the last thing I need right now, but apparently that’s what she’s dishing out at seven a.m. on this fine Monday morning.
Through my yawn, I tell her to “shut it” as I playfully swat her sweatshirt-covered arm. We walk together every morning. “I didn’t sleep well last night. I must have overdone it this weekend, that’s all.” We begin on our usual route of two miles around the neighborhood. It’s been a fairly mild winter. So even though upstate New York in January usually isn’t the most ideal locale for a Monday morning power-walk, it’s been nice enough to actually walk more days than not. The only time we miss our daily walk is when one of us is sick.
When about a quarter of a mile goes by in silence, which is only interspersed by my persistent yawns, Linda nudges me in the side with her elbow. “So what kept you up?”
“I don’t know. I guess a little bit of everything.” I can see my breath in the early morning air as I say, “It was just so quiet.”
Linda slows her pace slightly and looks at me. “Isn’t that a good thing? The girls are all on their own now, so you have all the time and space to do whatever you want.”
“Yeah, I guess so.” Shrugging my shoulders essentially puts an end to the conversation, but it doesn’t help me shake the feeling of loneliness that is slowly creeping toward me. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Linda smirking at me. Her eyes are alight with humor. Something is going on in that pretty little head of hers. “What are you thinking about over there?”
“Oh, nothing,” she chirps as we round the corner and head back toward our block.
Now, Linda is not only smirking but she’s almost laughing. “Would you just spill it already? What’s going on?”
“I just think it’s funny. That’s all.”
“What is? I’m over here telling you it’s too quiet and that I’m lonely, and you’re laughing at me. Thanks a lot, best friend!” I snap at her. I guess my sleepless night took more of a toll on me than I thought.
“Oh, calm down. I don’t think it’s funny that you’re lonely.” Her warm brown eyes sparkle in the early morning sun. “I was laughing because for all these years when I said you needed to find someone, you wouldn’t be a mom forever, you thought I was crazy.”
I open my mouth to speak, but Linda just shushes me, all pretenses of laughter are gone. Here we go; I’m getting the
lecture.
“I know you’ll always be Melanie’s mother, and I also know that you’ll always be a huge part of Maddy’s life as well, but right now, they don’t need you in the same ways they used to. I’ve been telling you this for years. Now, here you are.” Linda stops walking and grabs my shoulders. “I’m not saying this to be mean, but you deserve a slice of happiness for yourself. All those years you claimed you couldn’t date because you were too busy with the girls, well, now here’s your chance. They’re all grown up. Now, it’s your turn to figure out what you want. You’re only forty-three-years-old. You’ve got the rest of your life to live and it’s going to suck if you choose to live it alone.”
I never told her anything about Evan, or the flutters he set off. Thinking about him is pointless anyway. After the funeral, he returned to his life in Manhattan and I retreated to mine in the middle of nowhere.
I feel the tears building. I’m a crier; I can’t help it. There’s no point in blinking them back when I know they’ll spill. “Oh, sweetie. I don’t want you to cry. It’s just that you’re amazing, Lucy. You have devoted your life to being the best mom possible and Melanie is a shining example of how beautiful your love is. You have so much love to give that you practically adopted Maddy after her aunt died. That girl doesn’t love you like a mom; she loves you because for all intents and purposes, you are the only mom she’s ever had.”
Mentioning Maddy and her losses only makes me remember mine.
Jimmy.
Yes, time heals all wounds, but the fact remains that he was taken from me all too soon.
“I just can’t, Linda. I had my chance. It was just cut short.” I swipe at the tears trickling down my cheeks as she puffs out a frustrated sigh.
“Lucy, I loved Jimmy very much and I know you’ll never love anyone as much as him, but don’t you think you deserve to give it a try. Maybe you’ll find someone who you could love differently.” She adds a wink to her lamely shrugged shoulder, urging me to give it a chance.
A tiny voice, buried somewhere in the back of my brain whispers, maybe.
In a vain attempt to avoid answering that question, I force my feet to start moving. One step in front of the other − that’s how I feel like I’ve lived the last eighteen years of my life. If I can just keep moving forward, then I don’t have to look back and remember how painful yesterday was.
As we arrive in front of my house, Linda stares off into the distance. She looks like she’s trying to choose her words carefully. “I’m not trying to tell you to forget Jimmy or to stop loving him, but I want to see you happy. Just think about it okay?”
Knowing she means well helps to soften the harsh reality of her words. I smile through the heaviness I feel. “I know. I’m sorry for getting upset. I’ll think about it; I promise.”
Linda smiles and waves as she walks away. Calling over her shoulder, she says, “I’ll see you at work in a bit.” I wave at her as she rounds the corner, and thank my lucky stars I still have her in my life on a daily basis.
Rounding the corner and peering over the top of her office cubicle, I catch a glimpse of Linda’s computer screen.
“Oh no you don’t.” My words startle her, making her nearly fall out of her swivel chair.
Clutching her hand over her heart, she gasps, “Freaking hell, Lucy! You scared the crap out of me.”
Completely ignoring her reaction, I move into her workspace, pointing a finger at my picture on her computer screen. “You better not be doing what I think you’re doing.”
She shrugs her shoulders, holding her hands out to the side. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her feigned ignorance is pretty transparent.
Leaning in to read the address in the web browser, my fears are confirmed. “Am I really that pathetic that you need to register me to Date.com?”
When she doesn’t answer me immediately, but rather scans me from head to toe, I wonder if she thinks my question was not the rhetorical kind.
“No, I don’t think you’re pathetic, but I meant what I said this morning. You need to go and be something other than a mom. Now’s your chance to do that. I just took a little bit more of a proactive approach by loading all of your information in here.” Her snark is amplified by her arched brow. She’s in “deal making” mode.
I sit in the extra chair she has in her cube, cross my legs, and lean forward. If she’s going to start talking about the non-existent details of my love life at work, I don’t need her yelling it to me from outside of her workspace. “I’ve made a decision,” she says matter-of-factly.
“About my life, I’m assuming?” I tip my chin toward the online dating application that’s just waiting for her to click “submit.”
“Yes, about your life. I think thirty years of friendship has earned me the right to make some decisions, don’t you?” She pokes me in the arm and laughs.
“Well, then, oh wise one, please tell me what you’ve decided.” She’s not a fan of my sarcasm, but she laughs nonetheless.
“All right, here’s my deal,” she snaps; a ‘take it or leave it’ tone hangs in the air. “I’m going to put your profile up and you’re going to go on the date I choose for you.” She crosses her arms over her chest as a satisfied smile curls her lips.
“What?” That doesn’t sound like a deal at all.
“Oh, that’s cute, Luce. You thought I was going to go easy on you?” I hate that she’s laughing at me. I hate that she’s right. I did think she would take pity on me, but I guess she’s going with the ‘sink or swim’ mentality.
I think she sees the fear in my eyes or maybe she can sense the rapid increase of my heart beating. Whatever it is, she eventually takes pity. “Fine. I’ll give you some time. A week or two at the most.” I sag in relief at her words. Who knew that the premise of dating again would cause so much anxiety?
“Okay, I can live with that,” I lie, hoping I don’t seem too transparent.
“No, you can’t, but I’m serious. I just want you to be happy.” She reaches over and rubs my shoulder compassionately.
“I know, Lin.” I love her for her concern. She’s been there in the darkest moments and my happiness is always in her mind. But, when she twists in her chair and hits the button to make my online dating profile go live, the only thing that crosses my mind, is tackling her to the ground.
“What did you just do? You just said you would give me a few weeks!” I stare in horror as the words “your submission is complete” flash across the screen.
“I did,” she adds smugly. “A few weeks before I respond.” If she had a handlebar mustache, she’d be twisting it in her fingers, while laughing manically right now.
I shoot up from my seat and huff, ready to yell something at her. But then, a slew of “what ifs” fly through my brain. I’ll never let her know I’m at least a little bit intrigued to see the men who might be interested in me, so I just poke a finger at her from over the ledge of her cubicle and shoot daggers as I stalk away.
Chapter Nine
January 31, 2013
Dropping the last box on the floor in my condo, I take a look at my new place.
Empty.
That’s all I can come up with. I’ll never admit it to anyone, but the fact that my life can fit neatly inside of a few dozen boxes, is pretty sad. Well, I guess that’s what you get for always putting your job first—for never making room for anyone to stay as a permanent fixture.
No sense dwelling on it. My life is what it is. Hearing my brother’s footsteps behind me shakes me from my self-pity.
“This is the last one. Truck’s all empty.” Joe kicks the door closed behind him, piling the box atop the others.
I pull a Bud out of the case I just carried up with me, twist the cap and hand him one. “Thanks, man. I appreciate you helping.” He clinks the glass neck against mine and takes a swig.
Stretching his back and twisting his neck to the side, a loud pop fills the air. “Anytime, man. You helped me move Katie back to her dor
m last weekend. It’s only fair for me to help you, right?” he jokes, flopping down into the only piece of furniture I currently own—a beat up, old recliner.
I chug back half of my beer letting the alcohol help ease away some of the tension in my sore muscles. Leaning back against the chipped and scratched, ugly brown countertop, I cross my legs at the ankles and fold my arms over my chest.
“How you holding up?” I play cool and distant, but inside, I need to know my little brother is okay.
“I’m good.” He’s deflecting; I can tell. He takes a sip of his drink too quickly, probably biting back his all-too-obvious pain. Finishing his drink in one large gulp, he looks at me with sad eyes.
“I miss her.” He moves toward the small kitchen, grabs another beer and unloads the rest into the fridge. “Guess there’s not much I can do about that, though.” Deflecting, yet again. But I let him do it. I hate when people make me talk about losing someone close. It doesn’t make it easier. It hurts like fucking hell. And no amount of words will ever bring them back, so what’s the point, really?
That’s what made me move up here, knowing he would need someone, even if it isn’t me he wants to rely on. I haven’t told him about the medical office pushing me through for early retirement; I haven’t told anyone. I guess it is some vain attempt at denying it all.
But reality has a funny way of crashing down around you when all you’re trying to do is hold it up with your own two hands.
Lucky for us, the cable company was in here earlier today. Joe clicks through a few channels before landing on a hockey game. Sadly, the only other piece of furniture I have is a folding chair that I usually only need for poker games.
Being the older brother, I could make Joe get up out of my chair, but I don’t. There’s something about watching your brother, your only best friend, lose his wife that makes you a bit softer, less of a jerk.
The Love Series Complete Box Set Page 92