by Julia Blues
“I forgive you,” I whisper against her ear.
She hugs me for what feels like two eternities. When she lets me go, she walks out of the water. For a moment, she stops in her footsteps, but doesn’t turn around. She puts one foot in front of the other and walks toward the sunset.
A hand grasps my shoulder. I jerk to look behind me, realize I’m not in the ocean, not at the beach. Not in Destin. I wipe the fog from my eyes to see my brother in a wheelchair in front of me. My parents behind him. “I must’ve drifted off.”
I get up from the chair to stand by Rene’s side. The dream felt so real. She’s still tucked under the covers, her face a look of peace. Bear’s no longer clutched to her chest, though.
Andrew hands me the noseless bear. “She’s gone.”
53
SYDNEY
My heart stops the moment I step back through the doors of ICU and hear a long high-pitched beep. It’s the beep you hear in movies when someone’s flatlined.
I rush to Eric’s room with my hand pressed into my chest. The beep on his heart monitor is steady. He’s still in the land of the living. I left his room a couple of hours ago after he fell asleep on me before my confession rolled from my lips. It takes a few moments before my heart calms down to a light pound against my chest. That was a close call.
The clock above my husband’s bed reads close to midnight. I walk over to the blinds to close them, give us some privacy. As I get ready to close the door, my heart’s pace picks back up as I see a nurse placing a sheet over a patient across the hall. Bent over the bed is Brandon. I can’t take my eyes away.
Rene. Guess that’s where the beep of death came from.
Oh. My. God.
Just a few hours ago, not only was I trying to have sex with her husband in a public restroom, everything in me at this very moment wants to run across the hall and stand by Brandon’s side. Hold his hand, tell him everything’s going to be all right. What kind of woman am I? My husband is lying in a hospital bed himself and needs me here by his side. What kind of wife am I?
The doctor and nurse walk out of Rene’s room. Mr. Carter is pushed out by an older-looking version of himself. An older woman behind them. Everyone leaves a husband to spend the final moments with his wife.
“Why are you crying?”
As I’m watching someone else’s husband, my husband’s watching me. I wipe my face with the sleeves of my shirt, close the door. Turn to face him, hoping he can’t see my tears in the dark. “I’m not.”
“Thought you were done lying.”
I don’t say anything. What is there to say anyway? The truth’s hanging in the air.
“Who’s Brandon?” he asks.
My right leg goes weak, causes me to lose my balance. “Huh?”
“You said, ‘I’m so sorry, Brandon.’ Who is he?”
Right then, right there in front of my husband, I have a breakdown. Tears consume me like flames from a cigarette flicked in a puddle of gasoline. I fall to the floor and bawl worse than my five-year-old son when he’s told no. I cry for my selfishness. Cry because I’ve involved two innocent, hurt men into my misery. Two men who deserved so much better than what I had to give. Two men who came to me because the women they loved chose not to love them anymore. I became their backup plan, and for my own selfish reasons, that was okay with me. In the end, everyone still hurts. Including me.
54
BRANDON
Today I lay my wife to rest.
The past few days have been the hardest days of my life, but they have no comparison to today. No matter how much I try, saying goodbye to my wife is the last thing I want to do. Rene handled every detail of her funeral before she left. There’s no way I would’ve been able to make any arrangements. Doing so would have felt so final. I guess it is. I’ll never know how she was able to do it.
Rene is gone.
I’ll never feel her love again. Never feel her lips pressed against mine again.
I tried to tell myself I had lost her years ago. Tried my hardest to believe that lie. It was a temporary salve to a deep wound that never quite penetrated.
“How are you feeling?” The tender voice of my mother brings me out of my thoughts.
My lips can’t form any words. I reach out to her, pull her close to me. Wrap my arms around her. Let her love comfort me the way only a mother’s love can.
Our embrace is cut short by a knock on my hotel room’s door. Couldn’t bear staying in my apartment. Kept seeing Rene in my bed, clutching Bear as she faded from life. I open the door, let my father in.
“The limo’s here.”
I nod.
This is the part I hate, getting ready to head to the church. The time when friends and family gather to drive the streets with flashers on, cops holding up traffic to alert other drivers a family needs their consideration and respect for a moment, when everyone lines up in front of the church by position to the deceased to say their last goodbye. This is the time when you try to be the strongest, or at least look the part.
I grab my suit jacket from the bed. I don’t put it on, just drape it over my arm.
Dad firmly grips the meat between my neck and shoulder as we file into the elevator. Does that to give me support without saying anything.
In the elevator’s mirror I see my mom’s red-rimmed eyes. She’s had a hard time ever since they came into town. I hadn’t told them about Rene. Saying anything would’ve only made things worse for me. I’m sure my brother filled them in, but I know they probably didn’t think it was to the extent that it was. Mom’s loved Rene since the moment I brought her home. They had a great relationship, the kind mother’s dream of having with their son’s wife. I pull her into my arms, hold her tight.
Once the elevator doors open, she pulls away. Looks up at me, “I’m okay, honey. I’m okay,” she says and kisses me lightly on the lips.
I stop my parents from getting off the elevator. “I really appreciate you both being here.”
“Son, we wouldn’t have it any other way,” Dad says.
“But you came for Andrew.”
My father puts up his hand, silences my guilt.
Andrew is in his wheelchair parked in the middle of the lobby, Melissa wheels him our way as we approach. “How are you holding up?” he asks.
“Hanging in there,” barely comes out.
Despite his feelings toward my situation with Sydney, my brother has been by my side since the day my wife passed away. He’s been nothing but supportive, even offered for me to stay at his house as long as I needed to. I couldn’t do that, couldn’t have him looking after me while his wife looked after him because of my indiscretions. I’ve been selfish enough.
The sun greets us the moment we step outside. Once my eyes readjust from temporary blindness, I see a long row of cars lined up behind our limo. Though I wanted a small ceremony, seeing all the cars out front puts warmth in my heart. I’m amazed at the support for my wife. She was there for many of them during their time of bereavement. Feels good to know her work was greatly appreciated by the community.
Peter opens the door for me. He extends his hand toward mine. “Whatever I can do to make this time comfortable for you, just let me know. I’m here for you.”
“Thanks, Peter.” I shake his hand and draw him in for a hug. “You were a good friend to her, a good partner for the business. I’ll always appreciate you for that.”
He pulls me to the side, gets close to my face. “I know this is hard, but Rene made peace with everything. Shortly after coming to terms with this, she asked me to come with her to church. We prayed together. She’d asked God to forgive her for what she’d done to Reggie and what she allowed guilt to do to her and your marriage. She asked God to forgive her for what she made you do.” He wraps his hand around mine, gives it a gentle squeeze. “She wanted me to tell you she doesn’t blame you.”
I do my best to let his words comfort me.
My dad and Peter help put Andrew in the limo while Mel folds up the chair. I wa
it for all of them to get in the car before I do. As we ride to the church, I’m saddened by the fact that not much of Rene’s family is here. Most of them have already gone on. Knowing she’s with them now gives me comfort. No one says much in the car. So much has happened over the past couple of weeks, I think everyone is traveling in their own thoughts.
“Pass me not, oh gentle Savior, hear my humble cry,” the choir sings as the church doors open.
The first thing I see is Rene’s white casket staring back at me. My feet feel like they’re sinking deeper into a bottomless pit as I make my way to the front of the church. Somehow I make it. I can’t bring myself to look at her. I stand above her casket with my eyes closed until I feel my brother’s hand on my back. I want to stand here forever, but I know I can’t.
Scriptures are read, songs are sung, words are shared. Several times, I blank out, drift back to more joyful times. I remember a time Rene told me about driving to pick up a family who had lost both children in a swimming accident. Peter told her he was having stomach issues since that morning and needed to go home. They were shorthanded that day and she really needed him. Once he closed the family up in the car and got behind the wheel, the pressure from sitting down was so great a long fart ripped from his rear. Rene said it smelled like a camel on broil in the middle of a Las Vegas summer. Seconds later, she heard coughs coming from the back of the car.
When she told me the story, she laughed so hard she started snorting. Thinking about that causes me to belt out a laugh. I mean, a Miss-Sofia-rocking-back-and-forth-at-the-middle-of-dinner-in-The-Color-Purple kind of laugh. One of the ushers comes over and starts fanning me. They must think I’m on the verge of having a major breakdown. Makes me laugh even harder until tears begin to spring from my eyes.
A young lady and man approach the microphone. A few chords are played from the piano before voices begin singing. “Sorry, I never told you, all I wanted to say. And now it’s too late to hold you, cause you’ve flown away, so far away.”
Their rendition of Boyz II Men and Mariah Carey’s “One Sweet Day” causes me to straighten up real quick. There’s so much I still wanted to share with my wife, so much I wanted to tell her and hear her tell me. This is unfair, so fucking unfair. I want to run up to the casket, pull her out and shake her, ask her, “Why didn’t you just go to the doctor?”
My emotions are betraying me. One minute I’m hurting, the next I’m ready to fight someone. It was so much easier to deal with her falling out of love with me than having to put her six feet under.
“Whyyyyyy?” I want to scream out.
My father puts his hand on my thigh, does his best to calm me before I erupt.
I put my hand on top of his, grip it like my sanity depends on it. I feel so much pain in my heart, so much pain I’m barely able to breathe.
“Darling, I never showed you. Assumed you’d always be there.”
I showed Rene how much I loved her from the moment we met. Never did I take her presence for granted. She knew this. I knew it. I loved that woman. But my actions in her last days were everything but love. Only reason I moved out was to prove a point. Wanted to make her mad and come running back to me, beg me to come back to her. My plan failed and pushed me further away from getting my wife back. Now I’ve lost her forever. I don’t deserve to be here. I don’t deserve to mourn.
I’m no longer holding my father’s hand, no longer am I sitting. I’m standing in front of Rene’s casket.
“You want to do this?” Peter’s voice shakes when he asks me that.
I don’t nod, don’t say yes. I just stand there.
Rene’s body is lowered into the casket. I look at her for the first time. Peter granted her wishes and made her look exactly like the picture she gave him. She looks like the woman I fell in love with on our first date. Her skin glows as if she’s standing in front of the sun. Her lips the color of kissing a thousand roses. I want to kiss her, kiss her like I did on that first date. I do. I bend over and place my lips on hers for the last time.
The fabric on the sides of the casket are folded over her body. Her lips are formed into a smile. I know she’s up in heaven with our son in her arms. Her mother and father are with her, all of them beginning their eternal life together. She smiles because now she is at peace. No more worrying about lumps appearing in her breasts and traveling to other parts of her body, no more fearing the same fate as the women in her family who’d gone on before her. She’s free from the guilt of feeding our son bad milk. She’s free of having to push me away, free of making me hate her. She’s free so I can be free. I do my best to tell myself that smile is for me.
Something is placed in my hand. I look down, see Bear in my hand. Andrew’s next to me in his wheelchair. I didn’t know he had brought my son’s noseless bear with him. I bring the bear up to my face, rub my nose against the spot its nose used to be.
I uncover Rene’s arm and tuck the only thing that brought her comfort in her final hours underneath. Put the sheet back over her arm.
Mel wheels Andrew back to his spot on the side of the aisle while I stand back and watch as Peter closes the lid. This is the last time I’ll place my eyes on Rene. Feels like the sun’s just gone down on my heart. Need someone to carry me back to my seat.
Whyyyyy?
“There are many times in life when things will happen that we can’t understand. No matter what we do or who we talk to, things just won’t make sense. Death is one of them. It’s in those times where we have to look to the Lord. Philippians 4:7 reminds us that the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus,” the minister says in closing. “May God give you comfort now and forever more.”
The bottomless pit is back as I fall in line behind the pallbearers carrying Rene to her final resting place. Feel like I’m about to lose the breakfast I never ate.
Before I make it out the door, Sydney’s eyes find mine.
55
SYDNEY
I’m not in love with my husband.
Being at the funeral put a lot of things in perspective for me. It caused me be honest about a lot.
I sat in my car at the gravesite for about an hour watching Brandon stand above his wife’s final resting place. He stood as the cemetery workers tossed dirt on top of her white casket like they didn’t have time to have any compassion for the man in mourning. Brandon didn’t flinch. Just stood there and watched until the job was done. Until he was sure Rene wouldn’t push open her casket, crawl up from the grave and kiss him one last time. He loved that woman without question.
Watching him made me finally admit to myself that I never loved my husband. I thought it was love in the beginning. I quickly learned love doesn’t make you question if it’s love. You just know. You feel it. That feeling never came for me. Part of me feels like the only reason I can say I love Eric is because he’s the father of our children. Subtract that aspect from the equation, there’d be no us. Wouldn’t be a him and me.
The only reason I married Eric was because he asked. He was the first guy I dated willing to take the plunge of putting a ring on my finger. I became emotionally invested in the idea of being someone’s wife even when I didn’t necessarily want to be his wife. For a man to find me worthy enough to pledge his life to gave me validation. I never got that growing up and didn’t want to end up lonely like my mom, so I jumped at the opportunity without giving it much thought at all.
Now, I know that was a selfish move. He was right when he said I’ve wasted ten years of his life. But I was right when I told him he’d wasted ten years of my life as well.
• • •
Eric and I have just been existing since he was released from the hospital a couple of days ago. We’ve barely said more than three words to each other.
I tucked the kids in bed about thirty minutes ago. EJ usually calls out asking for something random like a piece of bacon or a sticker shortly after putting him to bed. I waited for him to make his usua
l request before letting Calgon take me away, but I guess tonight sleep took him under.
My body relaxes as I sink deeper in the hot water. Feel every muscle relax as the conversation I had with my mom the day of Eric’s accident replays in mind. She was the other woman to a man who left her for another woman. I never intended to be the other woman. Never intended to develop feelings for another man. I have these feelings for Brandon I’ve never had for any other man. Maybe it’s because we found each other at a time when we had no other choice but to be honest with each other and honest about how we felt in our marriages. I didn’t have to hide behind any façade to get him interested in me and vice versa. It just was. We just were.
The bathroom door creaks open. Eric walks in with hesitation in his step. “Can we talk?”
I sit up, cover my breasts with the warm rag.
He sits on the edge of the bathtub. “You’ve been avoiding me since your breakdown in the hospital.”
“Your parents have been here and I wanted you to have time with the kids. They’ve missed you.”
“So, you’re just going to run around the breakdown, huh?”
The rag grows cold against my breasts. I want to dip it back into the warmth of the water, but all of a sudden I’m ashamed to let my husband see my nipples. Just feels strange after all that’s happened. “I slept with him,” slips from my lips.
“Damn it, Sydney.”
I swear if his arm wasn’t bandaged up, he’d try to knock down a few walls.
I feel like Delilah. Feel like I’ve found out the secret to my husband’s strength. All these years he’s walked around with such confidence, like nothing could cause him to stumble. But I’ve found something. Found the one thing to shut him all the way down.
Eric gets up from the tub, leaves me in my bath of shame.
I kick my feet out of the water, sit them on top of the tub underneath the faucet. The water’s caused all the calluses on my feet to become magnified. My feet look rough. Blisters under both feet. May be time for new shoes and socks. Then again, I just bought some. It’s all the running. Running from my problems, running from my misery. At some point, all the running catches up with you. No matter how much or far I’ve ran, I’m still here. My problems are still here. I’m still in an unhappy marriage. As my mother said, I either need to walk away or learn how to make myself happy.