Those words were like a life line being tossed to me. Even if it couldn't pull me out, at least I could hold onto it and know someone was on the other end, supporting me. That knowledge alone was a comfort.
“I think I'll rest for a few minutes,” I said.
“Would you like me to call you when lunch is finished? I'd say it's another thirty to forty minutes.”
“Sure. I'm sure once I smell your cooking my appetite will return.”
Sasha smiled wistfully, but her eyes were full of empathy and sorrow.
I passed through the living room, where Bobby and I had nested in front of the fireplace the night of our corporeal reunion. I walked past the cove of bay windows, where we slow danced to a song that would forever remain etched in my heart. I looked down at the floor. Just weeks ago, our bare feet drifted side to side in unison, making those planks creak in the still of the night.
I turned up the stairs and made my way to the master bedroom. At first I leaned against the door and absorbed the memories of that room. Two weeks. I had two perfect weeks with him. That's more than some people ever got. I knew he was grateful for them, so I tried hard to be. But it wasn't fair. He deserved more than two weeks. He deserved a full lifetime.
A pale, thin curtain caught wind and danced up and down. I could have sworn we had gone through the house and closed all the windows before we left. But if the breeze carried Bobby, I was happy to leave it that way.
Every morning we'd wake up by sunlight. Bobby would wrap his arms around me, and whisper “Morning, Lil,” into my ear. I could hear his smile in his voice. It was always so nice to wake up to a smile. Sometimes I'd roll on top of him, and we'd have at each other. Other times, I wouldn't turn, but I'd take his hand and place it on my hip. He'd softly slide it up, and quietly, gently, he would touch me. And then our bodies would move together in a sensual, slow rhythm. Our raspy breaths and moans would unite as his hands wandered all over me. We would be so close, our bodies in perfect sync, as if we were two halves of a whole. Sometimes, we'd just talk about our plans for the day. And when I talked, he'd always watch me intently. I knew he was paying attention to my words. But it was more than that, it was him taking me—us—in. Bobby sometimes wasn't sure if he was still here or not. And sometimes I think our little sliver of heaven confused him even more.
So I crawled into the bed, thankful we didn't launder the sheets. I grabbed his pillow, and it still had a hint of his scent on it. I closed my eyes so I could pretend this was just another one of those mornings, and fell asleep.
I woke up to gentle stroking on my shoulder.
“If you want me to save you a plate, I can do that too,” Sasha offered soothingly.
“No, it's fine. I want to sit with you.”
I made my way down to the kitchen and was taken aback by the feast. Roasted chicken, green bean casserole, collard greens, macaroni and cheese. A pie rested on the window sill over the sink, filling the kitchen with the sweet aroma of baked cherries and sugary dough. It was then I realized I hadn't had any decent food in days, almost a week. The peanut butter sandwich was my last non-hospital meal, and hospital food and grief make for a terrible combination.
“This is amazing!” For the first time, I felt like I was feeding someone other than myself. And I felt like each bite of this food had love in it. There is definitely a difference when food is made to comfort and nourish and not just for survival.
I sat at the table and we passed around the goods.
“Will, is some of this your doing?” I asked.
“I'll take credit for doing whatever Sasha told me.”
“He's a good assistant,” she added.
We took a few quiet bites. I had forgotten how delicious food could be until I tasted Sasha's cooking.
“So, uh, I know this might be a lot to think about, but what are your plans? Who are you going to stay with?” Will inquired.
It was a lot to think about. I wasn't going back to the house. Even if Rory signed over the deed tomorrow. I would need help as the pregnancy came along, even if I had plenty of money to support myself. My sister invited me to Portland, but her house was full. And between her kids and our dad, there were more than enough people who needed to be taken care of.
Besides, I didn't want to up and leave yet. Sure, Bobby and I had plans to run away, but I spent my last days with him in these parts. His footprints were everywhere. And I wasn't ready to let go of that quite yet.
“I'm not sure. My sister invited me to Oregon. But . . . I don't think I'm ready to leave. I want to stay close to him for a while.”
“Stay with us,” he chimed.
“What? No, I couldn't. I can't impose like that.”
“It's not an imposition,” Sasha insisted.
“You two have lots going on, and you don't need an expectant woman waddling around your apartment all day.”
“It would be our honor,” Will said. “We love having you around.”
Will and Sasha were good—no—great people. Of course they would offer their place to the grieving pregnant woman. But I didn't think they should have the burden, though staying with them was exactly what I wanted to do. Being with them made me feel closer to Bobby. They radiated the same warmth he did. They knew the Bobby I knew.
Will leaned in and placed his hand on my forearm. “Lilly, let me honor my brothers by taking care of you. They both would have wanted this. I promised Bobby I would.”
I looked down as a tear trickled down my cheek.
“Remember what I said to you when we met at the club? I wasn't just saying that. You're family. That baby,” he pointed at my stomach, “is family.”
I nodded as I sniffed back tears. “Okay,” I said with a smile, wiping my cheeks. “Okay. Thank you. Really. Thank you.”
Julia arranged some time for me to go back to the house when Rory agreed not to be there. It allowed me to pack more stuff than the frantic few minutes I had as Bobby and Rory fought. She had already arranged an attorney to handle our divorce, but that would take a while between Rory fighting his own battle in the courts.
We had made the local papers, but being with Will and Sasha shielded me from the fray. They had to work that day, so Julia picked me up from their place and drove me to the house.
Everything was a memory. And I asked for this. I chose to stay in the area, with people who were close to Bobby, so I could be near these memories. But some of them were painful. Coming back to this house, my last hours here full of desperation and fear, were not the memories I stayed for.
The bedroom was pristine. I wondered how Rory had it all cleaned. I went into the closet, grabbed another suitcase and slowly packed pieces of my life away. A numbness had taken over, I assume, to protect me. Julia insisted on doing the packing for me, but I wanted to be quick and I knew what I needed.
I only had a few items left when I heard Julia speaking to someone downstairs.
“You're not supposed to be here. We agreed,” she admonished.
“Have you seen this?” he said to her.
She sighed.
“Julia, I know you knew and you didn't tell me. Please. She's still my wife.”
“A technicality.”
“If that's my baby, I need to talk to her.”
I watched from the top of the stairs. I wished it was Rory who had died. It wasn't something I was proud of. I had never wished him death before Bobby's passing, but if I could trade lives, I wouldn't hesitate to trade his with Bobby's. Even if Bobby hated me for it.
I truly never wanted to see Rory again. But now that he was here, now that he knew about the baby, and Julia was in the middle, I stepped in.