“I love you all, and I’ll see you all real soon, okay?”
More tears streamed down my face. I hadn’t expected to be there so long, and I hadn’t expected to not talk to my babies several times a day. The past few days I’d only spoken to them once. I needed to get back to my life, but something nagged in my mind. I had my own journey to make across country. Right after I watched some strangers put Will six feet under.
Chapter Twenty-One
Dad and I showed up at the funeral home about fifteen minutes before services were to start. The funeral home had a separate room for family, and I had been on that side of the room more over the years than in the public room. The family room had angled wooden slats so people inside the room could look out into the main room where guests spoke at a high podium, the casket lay in waiting, and the crowd dabbed their eyes with tissues. But the way the wooden slats tilted, the public audience couldn’t see the family. It was built for privacy. Wives often cried so hard their makeup would run down their cheeks, and they’d be rushed out a back door to freshen up before greeting the crowd. Rebecca decided not to use the family room. I was happy to know of her decision beforehand, as I had been afraid she’d ask me to sit in there with her. But then I wondered who else would be there in the private room. Will’s family were his friends. Local people he’d grown fond of over the years. Once his grandfather passed away, he had no other family. No cousins, no one to leave a legacy, no one to sit behind the privacy wall. Except his wife.
Rebecca was in the receiving room when we walked in. She hugged us, asked us to sign the guest book, and told us where she would be sitting. I walked into the room and thought my knees would give out. I sank about an inch before Dad grabbed my arm and led me to a seat about three rows behind the first row where Rebecca had indicated she’d be sitting. Neither of us were sure if she’d told us because she wanted us near her or if she told us so we didn’t take her seats. I hoped her mother or someone from her family would be here for her and decided if no one sat in the front row, then Dad and I would move up there to be with her. Despite what her family thought of her decision to marry a man she knew was dying, she did something for him not many people could do. And it was damn hard. She deserved company and support at this time.
Once we were seated, I started looking around. His casket was sitting in the front of the room. I imagined our flowers were up there amongst the several standing near the casket. Chris had ordered flowers with my name and his name on the card. I would have forgotten otherwise. On either side of the casket almost hiding behind two large arrangements were easels with large photographs of Will. The one on the left was Will on his grandfather’s boat. It was from a more recent time. He looked older, but full of life. Smiling with a ringlet of hair touching his nose as he looked up for the photographer. I wondered if Rebecca had taken the picture before his skin had gotten hollow and thin. The picture on the right hit me like a ton of bricks. The last time I had spoken to Will over the phone, he was going through a box of memories. Pictures, notebooks filled with songs never finished, journals, movie stubs, and maps. He must have found the picture himself and requested it be used for this purpose. It was a picture I had taken in Northampton, Massachusetts. Will was on the beach with his red Takamine guitar, strumming, singing, likely thinking of the singer we’d heard in the Northampton bar and how she was making it happen in her life.
***
“AMazing! She was amazing! Did you hear that song? What was it, ‘climbing mountains in life?’ Weren’t we saying something about those mountain walls along the interstate on the drive up here? What did she say about the paths we take down the mountain? Damn, I couldn’t be so poetic while describing the view from the interstate. Oh my God. She was amazing.” Will was spinning in the street. If it had been raining, I could say he was dancing in the rain, but as it was it just looked like he was spinning around in the middle of a road.
“I heard her too, Will. She was very good. I think that song was called What’s Coming…or was it What’s Next? And yes, it was beautiful.” I was laughing at him, but also wondering if he was on a natural high or if someone had slipped something in his drink.
Will stopped spinning so suddenly, I thought he’d topple over. “Nikki Jay. My beautiful Nikki. I am inspired!” As he shouted, he ran across the road, skipped up the curb, and lifted me up from the waist all in one gentle movement. “I am inspired. Tonight I will make love to you as an inspired man. I will pull you up and over those walls of stone into oblivion. And tomorrow, we write. We can do this, Nikki. We can get up there on a stage and harmonize together.” He spun me around then stopped my momentum by grabbing my waist again. “We have such great harmony, baby. We can do that, you know.”
Will seemed to find a new breath of life in this new found excitement. We’d seen several great bands on stage before, but the level of energy coming from Will was a first for me to witness.
The lovemaking shattered records that night; Will performed more than twice. We both fell asleep with smiles on our faces and new life in our chests. After a Tavern breakfast the next morning, Will asked me to wait downstairs while he went upstairs to grab his guitar. With the heavy hard case in his hand, he also skipped down the stairs and into the hotel lobby. “Let’s go, baby!” he said and pulled my elbow with his free hand.
I had no idea where we were going or how Will knew how to get anywhere other than the hotel and the bar we’d discovered. But once we and the guitar were safely buckled in the car, he started driving in a different direction from the one that led us into town. After about ten minutes of driving, I could see water, a train track bridge, and a small beach. He pulled over into a makeshift dirt lot and jumped out.
“Grab the blanket, if you want to sit on something, Nik.” He grabbed his guitar, searched the console and between seats for two pens, and grabbed the notebook he carried everywhere. They all looked the same, a black and white composition book, but he filled them so quickly he almost never had the same one twice. I had seen several office boxes in his house filled with them. He’d been writing and journaling for many more years than I had known him.
Will beat me to the beach as I went back to get a couple of bottles of water and my camera. Once on the beach, I could see him setting up in the sand, a new determination written all over his face.
“I brought the blanket, why don’t you and the guitar sit on it, so you don’t get sand in the sound hole, goofball,” I said to Will laughing. He was like a kid on Christmas, and I was left not knowing Santa had arrived yet. I spread out the blanket and sat down, rolling the bottles of water out of the way. Will sat near me, strumming and humming along.
“We are writing today, but bear with me, baby Nikki Jay. I’m not going to sit here and write in one spot. I feel I need to move around, baby. These walls are talking up here. That bridge up there. Look at it. It speaks to me. You relax, I was just thinking of this hook and rhythm.”
He just stopped talking, hummed along to his constant strumming. G, C, D, typical folk song chords. I just watched him from one fingering to another. Then he stood up, pulled a capo out of his pocket, clipped it on the neck of the guitar, and started strumming again as he walked away. He walked slowly stopping every few moments to look at his fingers, nod his head, and then move on along the small beach. As he turned a small corner, and paused for a look at his fingering, he was almost facing me, but I could tell he didn’t have clue I was watching him. He was in a world alone with his guitar. I picked up the camera and took a picture. We didn’t know for weeks until I took the time to get the pictures from our trip developed what an amazing picture that one was. I wasn’t sure how I did it, but I managed to capture his excitement, nervousness, and personal will to get through the writing journey he’d just started a few steps down the beach. It was a perfect picture. After I snapped it, he leaned the guitar against a rock and ran over to the blanket, picked up his notebook and pen, then ran back. While he was running toward me, I took a picture of his l
onely guitar on the beach. Behind his guitar I could see those stone walls showing themselves way beyond along the interstate miles away. I also took a quick photo of Will as he looked up at me with his notebook in hand but his pen still six inches away. He was alive and filled with energy only he could turn into something magical. I let him do it. I sat back, grabbed a bottle of water and kept my camera close by while he traveled the beach writing.
***
I came back to current day when I heard the booming words, “Life and death are one as the seas and rivers are one.” Someone I didn’t recognize was at the podium starting the service. I had been staring at the picture of Will I had taken so long ago, losing myself in his ecstatic smile and the spiral curl that had fallen into his face. I gave the photo a smile as if it knew my feeling by my expression and then looked for Rebecca in the front row. She had two people sitting next to her. I hoped they offered enough support for her. I was feeling as if I should have been there next to her for some reason, but I didn’t want to assume she needed me. It wasn’t she who requested I even be there at all over the past few days. That was Will’s request. I figured now Will was gone, she should be around those she loved, not just those who loved Will.
Brian got up and said a few words about music, how they used to write, play in boats along the shore for anyone who would listen, and how Will had fallen in love with a little town, a girl from the little town, the people in it and decided the little town was where he wanted to spend the rest of his days. He thanked those people there who had supported Will and Rebecca over the past year and those who had supported Will for the many years before. It made me wonder how many people knew Will was sick and for how long local folks knew before I knew.
There was a small graveside service at Philippi Church in Deltaville. The funeral home moved all the flowers to the church and were setting the last one in place as Dad and I walked up. There were six chairs under the green canopy. Dad and I chose to stand out in the sunshine with most of the rest of the crowd. From where I was standing, I could see my name on a beautiful flower arrangement. It wasn’t one of the huge graveside arrangements. It was a pot filled with lilies on a tall stand. Chris had thought ahead and gotten an arrangement Rebecca could take home. I smiled at his ability to multi task and think about the big picture. From 1800 miles away, trying to work from home and take care of two very demanding little girls, he was still able to think about what Rebecca might like instead of simply filling a grave side with so many flowers people from the road could tell the plot was new.
Rebecca came to me after the very quick ashes to ashes dust to dust speech. “Nikki.” She looked down, wiped an eye with a balled up tissue she’d had in her hand. My hands we also holding two wet and very used tissues. I just hugged her. She didn’t need to say anything beyond my name.
“Nikki. I can’t begin to thank you enough. I didn’t know what to expect, doll. I didn’t know it was going to be like that. All I knew was he wanted you here, and he did everything he could think of to make sure that happened. He told me once after talking to your husband on the phone he’d tried for years to live his life unselfishly, but he was trying his damnedest to be selfish and get his Nikki Jay with him while he died.”
She put her chin on her balled up fists, sniffled, paused to gain composure, and then shook her arms out on front of her. “He had a lot of requests, actually. I know you have the letter. And that guitar is yours. But there are other things at the house he wanted you to have. He,” she paused, took a deep cleansing breath and then continued, “he left me a list and left the same list with his lawyer. I have it all boxed up in the boathouse. I wanted to give it to you the day I gave you the letter, but he wanted you to have some while he was here and the rest after he was gone.”
“Rebecca,” I said, trying not to cry. “Slow down. First. I’m trying to take this all in. Will gave me his guitar. I don’t need anything else. The rest is yours.” I felt Dad’s hand on my back. I also felt uneasy, so I wasn’t sure if he was trying to steady me or trying to tell me silently to shut up and let Rebecca talk.
“Hon, it’s yours. You do what you want with it. I think it’s stuff from when you and Will,” she paused, looked down, wrung her hands together, “when you and Will were together. One of the boxes says MA on it. At first I thought it was something from his mother, but now I think it means Massachusetts. I don’t know. You can do what you want, toss it all if you’d like, but it’s yours. Yours and Will’s. And he’s not here anymore.” A sole tear streamed down her cheek.
I took her hand in mine, “Of course, honey. I know everyone is planning on coming over after they leave here. Maybe I can stay later, help you clean up after everyone is gone, and then you can give me the box.”
“Boxes,” Rebecca said as she walked away toward her car.
“Boxes,” I said as I looked at my Dad. “How about if I take you back to your house, and then I’ll head over there. Unless you want fried chicken and potato salad and whatever else people bring to these things, I can only imagine you don’t want to be there.”
He nodded at me, leaned down to kiss the top of my head and said, “You’re right. But a plate of fried chicken doesn’t sound too bad. Maybe you can bring a plate home if there’s enough. I know you’re all shrimped out from dinner yesterday, so make sure you get something to eat for yourself.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
I dropped Dad off at his house, ran inside to freshen up my makeup after another afternoon of crying, and then headed back down the road with too many speed bumps. About halfway down the road, I realized I didn’t have any food to bring. I stopped for several minutes at one speed bump, wondering if I should turn around in someone’s driveway and head to the store or to Molly’s to get a tray of food. After staring out at the water for a few minutes, I decided to keep driving. In this case, Rebecca wasn’t a family the community was trying to feed after everyone left. Rebecca would probably be the only one in the house after the reception. It was part of her deal. She married Will, was his caregiver before he died, and for all she did for him, she got his house. I just drove ahead. I was a part of this experience, too. And I was going back into that house for the last time. Going in the house again wasn’t going to be easy. I feared walking out with boxes of Will’s belongings just might break me. My new Takamine guitar was still here along with Will’s memories and whatever else he wanted me to have.
I parked at the pool, stood along the slick fence covered in green algae or mold and stared beyond the pool toward the Chesapeake Bay. I couldn’t control the tears flowing freely from my eyes. I knew I had to walk down to Will’s house, but what I really wanted was some time alone to reflect. Find a door I could close on the experience, the life out there, and on Will all together. Instead I heard a door close behind me and someone quietly walk up to me.
“Hey, sweetie, I saw you and your Dad at the service today, but I didn’t want to bother you. How ya doing, hon?” Liza said with her arms out, ready to embrace me as soon as she got to me.
I didn’t say anything in response, just let her take me into her arms as I sank to the ground. So much for fresh makeup. I let loose. I’d had Rebecca. I’d had Brian. I’d had my Dad and Chris over the phone, but for the first time in days I felt comfort in someone I knew so well and let everything I’d held in out to breathe for the first time since pulling into town.
“Oh, Liza,” I said as I looked up. “I know you came by with food for us. I didn’t even get to say hello then. I cannot believe everything I’ve been through. No. I can’t believe everything that’s happened these past few days.” As I sobbed, my whole body shook. Liza sat on the moist ground with me practically in her lap and held me. “He’s gone, Liza, he’s gone. And I haven’t spoken to him in months.” I paused. “No. He spoke to me when I first got here. And he pushed my face and told the nurse to ‘get this away from me.’ Meaning me of course. I can’t believe all that’s happened. I can’t believe he’s gone. And I can’t believe I’m h
eading back to a life I created, one I love, and I will never hear his voice again. Liza, he’s gone.”
I let my sobs do the speaking for me. And Liza, being a woman who had known me for years, knew to just be there for me. We sat for about ten minutes, and then I laughed. “My butt is wet.”
I looked up at Liza, who was wiping a silent tear from her cheek. “Mine has been wet since we decided this was a good place to set it, my butt that is. Nothing’s ever really dry out here, you know that.”
We looked at each other, mascara running, cheeks red, lips swollen, and laughed. Liza laid back into the grass and laughed harder. “This is what you need to get out, Nikki. Let it out. Laugh. Be free. Will is free. Free from cancer. Free from pain. Be free, Nikki. Free to laugh.” Liza sat up with two handfuls of grass and threw the grass in the air above our heads.
I laughed, but then got up, shook out my hair, wiped off the back of my dress, and held out my hand to Liza. She took it, still giggling, and got up. “I guess we should head on down to the house then, huh?” Liza said. With that, we started walking. I didn’t look back to the pool. I knew I’d never look at the same pool again. But I also knew my memories didn’t lie in a chlorine pool with mossy stumps around it and a moldy fence. My memories were with a salt water pool, young adults, and laughter. That pool only made me sad. The pool in my mind made me smile. The salt water pool where Will still smiled a young vibrant smile.
I held the door for Liza when we got to Will’s house, feeling happy I’d run into her. Other than Brian, I wasn’t sure who else I’d know there. I assumed Rebecca and Will had their own circle of friends. I hadn’t lived here for many years, and of course I was still hoping Rebecca’s family was among the crowd I saw gathered in the sunroom.
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