First of Many

by Ashley Suzanne

  “What, babe?”

  “Unconditional love. I can feel it. Inside these four walls, there’s so much unconditional love, it’s inspiring. I know there’s more for me, Rowan. I’ve been loved by so many people, I know I’m not done yet. Maybe done on Earth, but I have more to do out there.”

  “I do feel it. And you’re right. You’re destined for great things, and in my soul, I know you’ve got so much more to accomplish. Watch out for me while you’re up there.”

  “Make me a promise,” I whisper, hearing my own voice come out slurred and slow.

  “Always.”

  “Don’t be alone. Find someone to love you the way I do.”

  “That’s gonna be hard, babe, but I’ll do my best,” he lies, and I know I’ve already made the right choice. My last request, my last thing to do on this planet. It’s not happened yet, but it will, and my heart soars with elated emotions. He won’t want to try, but he will … because he’ll give me my heart’s desires. He’s my perfect.

  “I’m sleepy.”

  “Go on and rest, babe. I’ll see you soon enough. We’ll be together again. I promise.” As he finishes his declaration, I feel his lips on my forehead and I think I smile. This is it. I’m too tired. Too weary. This is the best ending in the history of endings.

  In the end, I hope he knows how truly and honestly loved he is. I pray there’s more after this and that his very last promise to me will come true because as I drift further and further away, I see a lifetime waiting for us in Heaven, where we’ll have babies and a home and all the things my sickness stole from me.

  Everything gets darker and darker around me until I’m surrounded by black, and before I can start to get scared, a dim light starts to get brighter. It’s true. There is a Heaven. I’m being pulled to the gates and I know this life is over, only for me to begin again someplace where cancer isn’t a thing, and neither is heartbreak. A place where I can watch my Rowan find a woman, fall in love, and live the life he never got with me because of the cancer. It flashes … his life, not mine … he’s going to be just fine.

  And he’ll find a woman who will love him the way I did. Widower or not, he’s going to be happy. In turn, it makes me so unbelievably happy, I run toward that light and embrace all the glory waiting for me on the other side.

  Epilogue

  Rowan

  The First Anniversary

  My Charlie died a year ago. It wasn’t a date you marked on the calendar, you just remembered the day your life seemed worthless and pointless. I’ve tried to fulfill the promises I made to her, but with each one accomplished, it felt like I was moving on without her and that made the next one even harder. You’re not supposed to lose your wife before you’d had a chance to love her for a lifetime. We should have had decades together. It was a hard concept to swallow, and even still, I found myself cursing everything around me for stealing her away from me too soon.

  An opportunity came up at work for an out-of-state promotion, and since everything here reminded me of the short amount of time I had Charlotte, it seemed like a sign or something. I threw my name in the hat, but with the guys who had much more seniority requesting the change, too, I didn’t think I had a shot in the dark. Nonetheless, I did. Within a few weeks, my bags were packed, flight was booked, and the company found me a small apartment in Manhattan.

  Sheena was the only person I knew in the City, so I texted her when I landed and hoped she could help me navigate a little until I got my bearings. Since Charlie died, we kept in touch, but it always felt forced, like we were doing it for Charlie and not for ourselves. However, the second I saw her again after a year, it seemed right for some reason. It wasn’t any secret that Sheena was a huge factor in Charlie’s and my relationship. Hell, if it weren’t for Sheena, I wouldn’t have stood a chance, as my dear wife so eloquently put it before she passed. I’d always be grateful she had such a great friend, and the way things were looking, she’d be a great friend to me.

  “Well, look at you all dapper and whatnot. When did you decide to trade the beard for this nonsense?” Sheena joked as I stepped out of the cab at my new apartment. I’d given her the address, and she promised—and delivered—to help me get settled.

  “Since New York City doesn’t hold the same values as Portland.”

  “Well, you’re looking good, Thorne. Let’s get you settled. It’s not Oregon, but I think you’ll love it.”

  I grabbed both of my suitcases and Sheena took hold of my carry-on. Together, we walked the two flights of stairs to my third-floor apartment. When I unlocked the door with the code the office gave to me, I was more than shocked when I walked in. You hear New York City and you either think slum or extravagant, but this was the perfect mix of everything I’d ever want.

  “Wow,” I muttered, setting my bags down in the furnished living room.

  “You’re welcome,” Sheena whispered.

  “What the hell do you mean?”

  “It doesn’t hurt having an inside man, Thorne. Who do you think handles the corporate relocation for your company?”

  “Damn, I knew you were in real estate, but I didn’t think you were doing it big time.”

  “Have I ever done anything halfway?” she laughed, and I joined her.

  “You’re too much. I suppose you’re the one who picked the furnishings, too? It feels too much like home, without being home, for some stranger to pick out all this stuff.”

  She winked and I knew she had a large part in helping me with this transition, and I couldn’t be more thankful. Sheena walked into the kitchen and returned a few seconds later with two bottles of my favorite beer. Handing me one, she kicked off her heels and sat on the couch where I joined her.

  “So how are you doing? Like, really doing?” she asked.

  “I miss her,” I sighed. “But I made her promises I haven’t really been living up to, so here I am, I guess.”

  “I miss her, too. We had a pretty spectacular person, didn’t we?”

  “We sure as hell did. She’d probably be pissed we were sitting around whining about how much we miss her and not doing something fun. So what are we gonna do? You have to know of something around this podunk town,” I teased, and her face tensed. “What? What’d I say?”

  “We can go do something after you read this.” Sheena reached into her purse and pulled out an envelope. Before she even put it in my hands, I recognized the handwriting on the outside as Charlie’s.

  “Where’d you get this?” I asked, confused as to why Sheena had anything from Charlotte for me.

  “She gave it to me that day. I was under strict instructions to wait until you came here. I think she was thinking you’d come to visit me, not actually move here.”

  “You could have told me you had it. I would have been here months ago.” With my blood boiling, I snatched the letter from Sheena’s hand and carefully tore it open, relishing every second knowing that my wife had touched this very letter. It was written in her handwriting. It was her on a sheet of paper, and I knew I should be thankful to Sheena, but I couldn’t get past the idea of her holding something so precious without telling me.

  “I’m gonna go freshen up and leave you alone for a minute.” Sheena excused herself to the bathroom, and I just stared at the folded sheet of paper until I heard the door close behind her.

  Taking a deep breath, I opened the note and tears formed in my eyes as I started reading.

  My dearest Rowan,

  I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to leave you and I hope you know that. The fact of the matter is, there would have been no way for me to end my life on my terms without your unwavering support. I needed you to hold the memories of us while I was still so full of life and not me withering away, endless hospital visits, and waking up every morning wondering if I was dead next to you. My decision was just as much for me as it was for you. It was for us.

  Now that I know you’re actually leaving the house, and probably showered, I’m so happy you’re with Sheena. She’s
a tough nut to crack and won’t tell you, but she’s not doing so hot. I’m no fortune teller or anything, but I’ve know the girl since I was a kid … she’s on the edge of breaking. And if I know you like I think I do, it’s been quite some time since you’ve even seen Sheena. Tsk tsk tsk.

  You two need each other. I need you to have each other. You having Sheena, and Sheena having you, is the only way I’m able to make this choice. It’s the only way I know you’re both going to be okay. So please, make that happen. Have each other.

  Now that I’m done with the nagging wife part, I’m going to be the giving wife. The one who’s making things happen from Heaven (if it’s true that it exists, which I’m pretty sure it does since I was blessed with the greatest husband of all time). Sheena had a letter of her own that she was instructed to open when you finally got your ass to New York. She’s making reservations for you two and your meal, including dessert so you don’t try to skip out on the extra fun stuff, is already paid for … you’re welcome.

  The only rule for this dinner, other than you being required to show up, is you have to talk. Have a real conversation … with Sheena. You’re going to listen to her complain about her crazy co-workers, you’ll talk about how your family’s doing. Under no circumstances are you to talk about me, unless you’re toasting me for an amazing night out.

  I know you didn’t want it, baby, but you get a second chance at life. I would do anything to have one, so please don’t take this blessing for granted. Live for you, not for my illness. You deserve love, and while there will never be a second that I don’t love you with all of my being, I want you to have a tangible love. I want you to roll over one morning and hold a woman you’ve allowed into your heart. But that woman has to know a part of that heart will always remain mine, and she’s out there.

  She might even be under your nose …

  I love you more than words will ever convey. You’re my perfect.

  Forever, always, and beyond,

  Charlie

  I reread the letter a few times and each time I heard her voice saying the words. It was magical. It was exactly what I needed. I didn’t want to admit it, but I was starting to forget the way she’d explain things, how she’d pause and wait for gratification, and how much she truly loved me. Time wasn’t on anyone’s side, and Charlie was absolutely right. I was being selfish with the time I’d been given on Earth while hers was cut so short. I owed it to her to not hold back and give it my all.

  “Sheena, you can come out now.” Slowly, the bathroom door popped open and she cautiously walked into the living room.

  “You okay?” she asked, genuinely concerned.

  “I am. Thank you for this, and I’m sorry for upsetting you.”

  “You’re good, Thorne. Don’t turn into a sissy on me,” she teased, just like Charlie would have. “Reservation’s in an hour. You’ve got about ten minutes to shower if we’re going to make it. Charlotte gave me explicit instructions on what you should wear and it’s hanging in the closet. I’m going to use the guest room to change, if that’s cool.”

  “This is her night, go right ahead.”

  I showered quickly, and since my recent haircut, I didn’t have much else to do in terms of getting ready. I stepped out of the master bathroom and stood at the closet staring at the suit Charlie picked out. Simple yet elegant, just like her. I smiled as I dressed. Leave it to Charlie to have plans for all of us while she’s kicking back, relaxing in the afterlife. That woman and her plans.

  I walked into the living room in time to see Sheena slipping into a different pair of shoes than she kicked off earlier. Actually, she was wearing something completely different.

  “Charlie dress you, too?” I laughed.

  “Would I wear something this conservative? At least she got good shoes for me.”

  “How long have you known about this?” I asked, wondering how long this plan had been set in place. I know Sheena had our letters since the day Charlotte died, but all of this … it seems pretty extravagant for a last-minute death bed plan.

  “When I flew home after the funeral, there was this huge box being held by my doorman. So big he had to carry it upstairs. Inside was this little number, shoes, and a few other things I’m not allowed to tell you about.”

  “Not allowed?”

  “Nope, and I’m not breaking the rules, dude. She could be up there ready to strike me with lightning or something.” Sheena checked the time, rushed me out the door, and hailed a cab like a pro.

  We got to the restaurant, and just like Charlie’s letter had said, we were given the royal treatment: private table, four-course dinner, and of the most decadent dessert I’ve ever eaten, but she would have loved it. As demanded, Sheena and I talked about everything under the sun except Charlie, even though she was in the back of my mind and I’m sure in Sheena’s, too.

  On the cab ride back to my apartment, Sheena fished two more letters out of her purse with the words “After Dinner” written on the front, one addressed to me and the other to Sheena.

  “Should we open at the same time?” she asked and I nodded. Simultaneously, we opened the envelopes and unfolded the letter.

  Baby,

  Now you’ve had a real date with a real woman where you didn’t talk about your dead wife. Enjoy your life, Rowan. I’ve done my part. It’s on you now.

  Love you too much,

  Charlie

  “Oh my gosh.” I laughed so hard my stomach started to hurt. That spitfire set me up. Shit, she set both of us up. She knew exactly what she was doing, probably because she knew I wouldn’t do it on my own. I’ve never loved her more.

  “I don’t know what mine means,” Sheena said, passing me her letter.

  Sheena,

  No more duds. You’ve got a good one … Right under your nose …

  No more bad weather for you, sister. Tell that storm to go fuck itself; it's time for some sunshine.

  Till the end,

  Charlie

  The cab pulled up to my doorstep, and I held my hand out to Sheena for her to take. “Come up. I know exactly what she means. You’ll get it, don’t worry.”

  The End.

  The Last Word - Acknowledgements:

  First, my muse—Teresa Mathews-Clark. Though it’s been years, it feels like days. I can still see your smile, smell your perfume, taste your guacamole, hear your laugh. Our pictures pop into my memories, and as badly as it hurts knowing I can’t pick up the phone and bitch about absolutely nothing, knowing you’re safe, no longer in pain, and watching over me, helping guide me down the right path … it’s enough—barely—to keep me pushing forward. You knew my dream, saw my potential, and every word I type is because you gave me a confidence I never knew I was lacking. I have absolutely no doubt you’re cleaning your heavenly kitchen in heels so your butt stays perky, watching the girls grow into such beautiful, strong young ladies, whispering in my ear to let it go and look for the good, and riding bitch with Big Poppa, ensuring he doesn’t do anything stupid. You’re my guardian angel. I feel your presence. And one day, we’ll hold hands, skip around those pearly gates, and remember all the amazing times we shared. There won’t ever be a day I don’t miss you, but thank you … soooo very much … for shoving some amazing women in my life. They can’t ever replace you, but they bring me a similar type of joy—and frustration—and because of the push and pull, I know it’s you keeping me with our kind of people. P.S. I always looked better in your glasses than you did. I love you with every breath, and there just aren’t enough words to describe how much I want to see you. Rest easy, TT … our day’s coming. Have my heels ready, my butt isn’t what it used to be.

  The love of my life … not a single thing could be done without you. I’m not sure if you see it, but you’re the driving force to the madness that exists inside my head. I learned long ago that in order to keep my insanity in check, I needed an outlet, and for four years, you’ve pushed me to my limits and demanded me to go one step further. I’ll never forget t
he day you pitched me this idea and you brought something out in me I didn’t know existed. I always knew, especially after Danny’s book, that I needed something for Teresa. You tossed this in my lap and I ran with it. Beyond a shadow of doubt, I’m absolutely certain I couldn’t be half the woman I am today without an equal partner who understands I have a driving urge to be right all the time, even when I’m wrong, and as crazy as it seems, you give that to me without argument. Sixteen years, babe. SIXTEEN! We’ve weathered storms that could crumble villages, yet we show up to fight even when the odds are stacked so high against us, giving up would be so much easier. My favorite thing about you … your tenacity. Mediocre isn’t in your vocabulary, and if it’s not my absolute best, you demand and pull it out of me. I’m the mother, wife, writer, business owner, Realtor, and human because for the last sixteen years you’ve stood for nothing less than for me to follow my goals, and with pure happiness and excitement, you’ve followed me on that ride. It’s been wicked, and there isn’t a single second of our entire relationship I’d take back. The good, the ugly, the heartbreaking, the betrayal, the breaking of promises, the impromptu vacations, the desire to be more than what we are and strive only for greatness. Your outlook on life has seeped into me. Being content isn’t nearly enough, and you’ve proven to me day in and out, I deserve more—we deserve more—the kids deserve more. I’m only one woman, but if more’s what you want, more’s what I’ll give you … Every damn time! Until the last wheel falls off, and even then, we’ll cruise past the haters, middle fingers raised, making sure the world knows it can kiss our ass … ‘cause we got this. Always have, always will, forever and ever, amen. The idea of growing gray and old and saggy and less beautiful with you is on my bucket list. And you’re the only old man I ever want to make out with like a teenager. Starbucks bottles, road trips, coffee stops, Tim Hortons, shooting in the woods, happiness … all of that you give me, and as hard as I tried, I didn’t choose you. My heart did. And does every second of every day. Thick or thin, happy or sad, good times or bad, sickness or health … you’re mine. And Ray … I’m irrevocably yours … without apology or regret. I’ll never be able to find enough words to show you how this second leg of my life was changed by your love and loyalty … but I’m gonna spend the next fifty years showing you how much you’re needed. You’re it for me, Big Poppa.