The Xanax, however, will knock me out once I settle in one position long enough to let it kick in. In exchange, I will endure nauseating dreams that will swaddle me in quilted, sticky horror I’ll be unable to extricate myself from until the medicine decides it’s bored with me.
I’ll wake myself up screaming, eventually, and probably spend my first hour or so awake crying.
But I will probably manage about six hours of sleep, if I’m lucky.
“We’re the last ones, except for EPU,” she tells me. “Dec just left.”
“Why do you put up with me?” I dare to meet her gaze.
She sadly smiles. “Because I love you, George. Even if I didn’t, I loved Ellen. If you want to get rid of me, you’re going to have to order me to leave. Otherwise, you’re stuck with me.”
“I love you, too, Case. I never want to leave things unsaid.”
She picks up my glasses and hands them to me. “Let’s get you home, hon.”
Case has naturally dark blonde hair and light brown eyes that are practically hazel in color. She usually keeps her hair no longer than jaw length, and it’s always styled in a kind of wavy bob that never seems to go out of style. She’s timeless. I can still see Ellen’s overprotective bestie who let me bribe her with law class notes, and whom I carried inside from the car more times than I can count when she was drunk after a party.
Lately, she’s been favoring this plummy sort of purple lipstick that’s absolutely perfect on her. She goes through phases—reds, burgundies, dark corals that are more red than orange. Never pinks, because those were Ellen’s favorites.
But this purply plum…fits her. Suits her. Professional, and sexy, and dark, and daring, with just a hint of playful, all at the same time.
I love seeing her wear it.
It looks like she’s reapplied it since lunch. She always looks fresh, like she just stepped out of a dressing room. I don’t know how she does it, but she’s been like that ever since I’ve known her. Even if she’s coming out of the gym, she looks picture-perfect.
She’s amazing.
Ellen was in awe of her ability to always look perfect.
So am I.
We set the alarm. I hold the door for her as we exit, and she locks it behind us. The officers escort us out to the car, where Casey waits until they’re in their car before she pulls out of the parking space. We’re already a couple of miles from the office when I feel the first hints of the pill start to kick in. I tip my head back against the seat but don’t close my eyes.
She notices. “You feeling it?”
“Yeah.”
She reaches over and pats me on the thigh, her hand not lingering long enough for me to lay mine on top of it.
I drift a little, but not enough for my mind to completely sink into that sickly-sweet morass I loathingly love, once Case orders me into it. I drift enough that the ride home only seems to take a fraction of the time it usually would.
The EPU officers don’t follow us inside the development. Case has a clicker for my gate. She has the timing down perfectly and doesn’t even have to pause to drive through. It’s already open by the time we reach it.
At the house, she disarms the alarm with her phone app and already has her housekeys out before she even opens her car door.
She easily beats me to the front door. I’m already halfway up the front steps before I realize she’s carrying my laptop case.
“Oh, it’s hitting you hard and fast today, isn’t it, sweetie,” she says matter-of-factly. I nod as she unlocks my front door and holds it open for me.
I don’t even attempt the stairs. I know I don’t have the muscle coordination for it now. She locks the door behind us and catches my arm with hers to guide me into the living room. I stand there by the couch as she helps me remove my overcoat and blazer, then my tie, and unbuttons the top two buttons of my shirt.
“Sit, sweetie.”
I do. We have a large sectional sofa, like a big bed, almost. She props my feet up on it and takes my shoes off for me.
“Do you want water or anything, hon?” she asks.
I think I shake my head.
Suddenly, the TV’s on and my head is in Case’s lap. I’m curled in a fetal position on my side, a light throw over me, and her hand rests on my shoulder. I remember none of this, of getting into position like that.
“How long’s it been?” I ask. “When do you need to leave?”
With her other hand she plays with my hair. “Honey, this is the check-in. It’s after midnight. I’ve already gone and come back.” I now realize she’s wearing PJ pants, not the pantsuit she was wearing earlier. The fabric feels soft and warm under my cheek.
“Oh. Okay.”
I close my eyes again and pray I manage a few more hours of sleep, even if it means dealing with nightmares on the other side of it.
Chapter Eight
Then
There’s a sick, sad irony that today is a gorgeous, perfect day. Blue sky, no clouds, a slight breeze to chase away the heat and make it achingly beautiful.
The kind of day Ellen adored and loved to be out in, working in the yard or going on a hike.
The kind of day where, if I didn’t have to be somewhere and the kids weren’t home, Ellen and I would likely be having some fun of our own while locked in our bedroom. Probably involving rope and paddles and leather cuffs.
Too nice of a day for a funeral service.
I didn’t tell Susa everything about me and Ellen, because as we were talking, I wasn’t sure how kinky Susa was. I wanted to keep her talking, not freak her out.
Besides, Ellen wouldn’t have wanted me to tell those secrets. Not to that extent. Not to a near stranger, not even under those dire circumstances.
It would’ve mortified her, and no way could I do that, dead or not.
I’m just glad the kids hadn’t started going through our belongings yet. They would’ve gotten one heck of a surprise if they’d pulled a certain tote out of my closet and started digging deeper than the old sweater folded inside the top of it.
Like that it holds all our kinky shit.
Including toys that had seen the inside of their mother’s body, and I don’t mean her mouth.
It’s been a week since my return. Casey has completely taken over my life. I’ve needed her to, because she had to get an emergency court order on the day they were supposed to have the memorial for me and Ellen. She needed it to have me declared alive, so she could undo some of the processes she’d already started.
At least my life insurance company was happy to hear they only had to pay out for Ellen instead of me, too.
Bastards.
The bank was a pain in the ass, but they finally reopened my accounts and got me new bank cards and credit cards.
I seriously thought Casey was going to get physical with Dick Cailey, who had been installed as governor.
It worried me even more that I thought she was welcoming that possibility. But the State Assembly recalled him and undid the shuffle they performed to appoint a new Speaker of the Senate and Speaker of the House. They also named me governor, and I was literally sworn in while stopping by the State Assembly’s chambers in the capitol on my way home from the airport after my return.
My kids and brothers were with us, and Casey had retrieved Ellen’s old Bible from the house, an heirloom, because her grandmother had given it to her.
And Casey had tucked one of our wedding pictures inside the front cover of it for me. Ellen was an atheist when she died, but she would have liked my choice for that. Aussie held the Bible for me while I swore my oath of office on it.
I’m sure my neighbors hated me at least a little, at first, because of all the news trucks parked outside our development. Whenever someone paused for the gate to open on their way in, they were swarmed by media hoping to get pictures of me or the kids. It was even worse for people who had to use the directory to get buzzed in, and more than a few times the state police had to force back a couple of overzealous photographers
.
My neighbors probably wished I’d go live in the governor’s mansion, but that excitement died down pretty quickly after about the first week.
Leaving us with quiet, aside from days like…today.
I stare out at the packed arena. I didn’t want to have this large of a memorial. Ellen wouldn’t have wanted it, either, but at this point it’s beyond me. It’s the kids and the state and the media, and from what Casey tells me it’s even larger than the original one they’d planned.
I’m along for the ride.
If I don’t have a public memorial for her now, I know I’ll face backlash for that. Hopefully Ellen would understand. If our positions were reversed. I know I would.
I also wonder how many people are here more to get a look at me and to be able to say they were here than they are to genuinely mourn Ellen’s passing and pay tribute to her. Because this is my first public appearance since my return. I needed to wait for my reasons. I needed to say my public good-bye to my wife before I officially addressed the public in anything other than an interview or press releases.
If anyone can’t understand that, then fuck ’em.
While today’s music choices were Ellen’s favorites, I know I’ll forever hear many of those songs and think of them as a kind of dirge. I won’t be able to take comfort in them—at least not for the near future—because I’ll always think about them in this context.
Again, this is bigger than me. I have to think about the bigger picture, and that’s why I hand off so much to Casey now.
This past week has been as fucking insane as the three weeks I spent adrift were disturbingly monotonous. I’m sure if there’s an afterlife that Ellen is probably sadistically chuckling over my plight and telling me to relax and enjoy it.
Across the entire front row on both sides sit my kids, my brothers, Ellen’s sisters and their husbands and children, and Casey and Declan. I wanted Casey in the front row, and she asked Declan be allowed to sit next to her. He was her rock while I was gone, while she tried to be a rock for my kids and my brothers, and I won’t begrudge her that.
She’s my rock now. Since I’ve named Declan my deputy chief of staff, he’s my rock, too.
I hope they’re both up to the challenge.
I’m not close to Ellen’s sisters, because she wasn’t, either. Before today, Ellen and I hadn’t seen any of them in over two years. None of them live in-state any longer, and the eldest, Margaret, is barely civil to me even in the best of times, and usually acts downright hostile to me. I know they all blame me for Ellen not going to church anymore, but that happened before I met her.
It didn’t help that, when everything happened, Casey immediately stepped in and took over, wielding the power of attorney we’d given her and taking custody of Ryder and Aussie and completely shouldering the three sisters out of the decision-making process.
Which is exactly what Ellen wanted, too. Her sisters have hated Casey ever since Ellen first met her and brought her home for family gatherings. Casey isn’t someone they can push around, she’s not a “good Christian,” and she focused on her career rather than becoming a baby factory. In their eyes, Casey was a bad influence on Ellen.
The truth is, Casey helped Ellen flourish and find happiness.
Today, at least, all three sisters and their spouses are minding their manners, no doubt cognizant of all the cell phones and cameras.
This service is being broadcast live by a local TV station, both on the air and over the Internet.
Meaning probably hundreds of thousands of people, or more, watching me.
I asked for no teleprompter today. I’m doing this old-school, with paper notes, because I know I’m going to cry.
I’m already blinking back tears.
Casey and I cried last night as she helped me prep the final draft while we were locked in my home office. One of the few times I’ve ever seen her without makeup when she might be seen by someone other than me and Ellen and the kids.
“Thank you, everyone, for coming today,” I say. A hushed anticipation hovers over the crowd, at least five thousand, and more watching on a giant screen outside, from what I understand. Ellen was cremated before they knew I was alive, but that’s okay. That’s what we both wanted.
I saw her when she died. I unfortunately have that memory forever etched in my brain. I didn’t need to see her body after she spent time underwater and strapped into her seat. It’s bad enough I know Casey saw her to make the official ID, and that probably traumatized her for life. She’d flown out with Chase when it first happened and had, ironically, already met Carter while awaiting any news.
“For those of you who were planning on coming the first time and had schedules changed, I’m sorry, but I think I don’t have to tell you why I wanted to be here for this.”
Her urn sits on a pedestal on the center of the stage, surrounded by flowers and enlarged pictures—our wedding photo, a picture of me, her, and Casey on the day they graduated from college, our last family photo together with the kids.
I look there now. “I am a lucky man who was able to tell her every day how much I loved her. I knew how much Ellen loved me, and our children. We were married for twenty years, but together longer than that. We had three fantastic children together, and I could not have prayed for a better wife or life partner.”
I’m sure Ellen would forgive me for sprinkling a few keywords here and there, dog whistles to the Evangelicals in my voter base. It was Casey’s idea. She didn’t want to do anything to draw ire from them for not having a “religious” service.
My political juice from this situation is never far from my mind. Ellen would swat the back of my head if I didn’t think about the massive bounce in the polls I’m enjoying and take it into account. She was every bit as media savvy as Casey is.
I’ve given a couple of brief interviews, but I’ve refused to go into details about Ellen’s death despite dogged attempts on journalists’ parts to drag it out of me.
I won’t put our kids through that. Maybe the public loves grief porn, but this is my life, my kids’ lives. Casey’s life.
It’s our grief, not theirs.
“There is a bittersweet pain within me, because I know before she died she heard me tell her I loved her, and she told me she loved me. I feel confident she is at peace, her soul at rest.” Another concession to the religious voters. “The last several weeks of her life were filled with good memories, with joy. We knew we were approaching a milestone in our lives, of our children leaving the nest for their futures. We had…plans.”
Boy, did we. I have to swallow back the lump in my throat now.
Under my shirt, I’m wearing her rings on a stainless-steel necklace Casey bought for me. I need them. I’m not ready to release them yet.
I’m not ready to release my girl in any way.
I…can’t.
“Ellen had a sweet, giving heart, and lived a life of service…”
I find my focus returning time and again to Casey. She dabs at her eyes but keeps her gaze on me, subtly nodding at me, encouraging me. This is exactly what she’s always done for me. It’s our thing, one of our “work spouse” habits. Whether we were working on a case together, in a depo or in court, or giving a speech now as a politician, she’ll nod at me just like this, assuring me I’m on track and doing well. If she gives me a slight shake of her head, it’s a signal for me to change course.
In this moment, I love my children and would die for them, but Casey is my rock.
And I know Ellen would want it that way. Not just for my sake, but for Casey’s, too. To give her a focus besides her grief.
I cannot get through this without her.
I cannot process this without her.
I don’t think I’ve truly begun contemplating the depths of my loss yet. While a castaway I was too busy surviving and trying to keep Susa alive. In the hospital, I was too busy recovering, answering questions, surrounded by people.
Now that I’m home, I’ve been
surrounded by my children and deluged with my new responsibilities.
I’m normally a very private man when it comes to my personal life. My kids, obviously, get to see one side of Dad, and Ellen another. Casey is literally the only other person in my life who got to see me with my defenses down, because I trusted her. Not even my two younger brothers, who I love with all my heart, get to see me the way Case does.
In this moment, my grief is supposed to be on public display. I’m supposed to let the state—hell, the whole world—see me laid bare.
I…can’t.
It’s not even because I’m a control freak. It’s because this is mine, and my family’s pain, to a certain extent.
The world wasn’t married to Ellen—she was mine.
I’m not just a husband morning his wife.
I’m a Master mourning his slave.
Everything I did throughout our life together centered my girl in my universe, kept me tethered to her.
Without that gravitational pull to keep me in orbit, I feel…adrift.
Lost.
I have no fucking clue how I’m supposed to survive without her.
Something Susa said—ironically, not even a few hours before we were rescued—really hits home right now. Something she said Carter once told her.
Dying’s easy.
Surviving’s harder.
I had no idea what that really meant until this very moment.
This makes it publicly…final.
I’m a widower.
But even worse?
Part of me is still adrift and drowning, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep treading water before I let the black depths suck me down forever.
Chapter Nine
Now
I startle awake to find myself alone on my couch in the grey morning twilight before dawn has settled in for the day. Fresh tears streak my cheeks. I’m drenched in sweat and still listening to the sounds of my fellow passengers screaming as the wind roars in through the hole in the side of the fuselage.
How the screams quickly diminished as people passed out if they didn’t grab and don their oxygen masks quickly enough.
Dirge (Devastation Trilogy 1) Page 7