Page 67 of Trick

Istare at the closed door to mine and Mara’s bedroom. I still haven’t set foot inside, but it’s been almost sixteen months since my wife died, and it’s past time to sort through her belongings. My hand pauses over the door handle, willing my body to push it down. You can do this. It’s just a room.

Taking a deep breath, I push inside. I’m not sure what I expect to see, but the space is exactly as it was the day she died. I wait to feel that sharp stab of pain, but it doesn’t come. What I feel is sadness. Mara’s life was wasted, cut short when she had so much more to give.

I step farther into the room, my gaze roaming around. This is the last thing I need to do to truly bury my wife and my grief. I start with her drawers, pulling each one out and piling clothes onto the bed. I keep some things, mostly for Sophia, but the rest will go to a charity that my late wife supported. It’s bittersweet, going through her things. In many ways, it gives me closure that I didn’t expect. Mara was more than her belongings, and I don’t know why I left it so long to clear her things.

“Are you okay?”

Heidi’s voice from the doorway has me twisting to glance over my shoulder. She is holding my daughter in her arms, and the concern on her face slices through me. I see the care and love she has for me, and not a hint of upset or jealousy that I’m in this room doing this.

“It’s time,” I say, shifting my shoulders as I do. “Way past time.”

She doesn’t step into the room. I wonder if it’s because I’ve made this into some kind of sanctuary.

I gesture for her to come to me, and she hesitantly steps over the threshold. Her eyes roll around the space, and I see the sadness as she takes in the things that belonged to Mara.

“It seems wrong that she’s no longer here,” she remarks.

It does, but rarely is life ever fair. I reach for my daughter, and Heidi hands her over without question.

Settling Sophia on my lap, I feel an overwhelming sense of sadness. “She’d hate that we kept this room like some kind of weird shrine.”

“She would.” Her expression morphs into something sombre that has me reaching for her hand and pulling her towards me.

I’ve been busy the last week, but I haven’t missed the fact that Heidi looks tired. Her skin seems too pale, and the last two nights I’ve found her asleep in our bed with Sophia. I don’t know if it’s the toll of everything catching up with her, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t worried.

“Are you feeling okay?” I ask her.

She seems surprised by the question, her fingers tightening in mine. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

I search her face, trying to discover if she is lying to me or hiding something. I’d like to think we are past that, but I also know old habits die hard. She’s not used to having someone to confide in, but I want her to know I’m someone she can rely on. “Really?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m coming down with something. I just feel exhausted this week.”

I frown, scanning her face as if I can figure out what’s wrong with her, but other than being tired, she seems like her usual self. “You want to see the doctor?”

She snorts, as if I said the funniest thing in the world. “I’m still not convinced he’s not a vet.”

My lips quirk at the corners, and I’m not sure why she’s hung up on this. “I promise, the man has a medical degree.”

“I do have my own doctor, you know?”

I lift her hand to my mouth, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Then make an appointment.”

I wait for the argument I expect to come, but she doesn’t give one, which sends a little slither of unease through me. She must be feeling unwell. “You want me to help you with this?”

I shake my head, not because I don’t want her help but because I want her to rest. “I got this.”

For the next three hours, I go through as much as I can. It is both cathartic and also painful to wipe Mara’s presence from the bedroom, but this room is double the size of Sophia’s. It makes more sense for her to be in this space, especially now she’s getting older.

Leaving the door open, I head downstairs and find Sophia playing on the living room floor. Heidi is sitting on the sofa, but her head is resting on her upturned hand and her eyes are closed.

I sit on the edge of the sofa next to her, and the movement of the cushions has her eyes opening. “Are you done?” she asks, sitting up, stifling a yawn.

“Yeah, just about. I think we should move Sophia into that room.”

For a moment, she says nothing, and I wonder what she’s thinking. “It’s your house, Trick. Whatever you want to do is fine.”

“Our house. You live here too, and you also have a say in where Soph sleeps.”

---