Page 69 of Beyond our Forever

Even I feel small. Really yes. My pain seems to be minimized, my doubts are futile, distant.

But an idea is planted in my crazy head.

What if there are more women like me?

There have to be, women like me, trying to discover themselves, pushed by the pain of loss. Death, a separation, an illness. The reason is not important, the fallout is what matters the most.

What if I also tell of my experience?

Arming myself with courage, I open an account with an anonymous name. In the end I opt for Josephine Warren. The reason? Josephine is my middle name, and the last name is my brother’s first.

Smart, right?

Half an hour later, I’ve copied the first page of my red journal and I’m ready to share it online. I take a breath, once, twice, three times. I press the button, the first step has been taken.

I’ll be happy if just one person reads it, if someone feels inspired by what I’ve lived through. If my experience helps another person to overcome their own issues, then I’ll be satisfied.

“Everything’s ready,” Aaron yells, running down the stairs to fetch me. “You’re the only one missing.”

“I’ll be right there,” I reply before doing one last thing, putting the link for my blog post on one of the forums I visited today.

Here we go, the sail is up, the wind blows, and even the magnolias in our tree are swaying with it.

The symbolism could not be clearer.

“And here she comes,” says Bruce, reaching out to help me onto the side of the jetty.

The week goes by in an instant. We stick to the calendar and our routine again, but everything feels different now. Something has changed. No, that’s not true, life goes on around us in much the same way, but it’s us, especially me, who has decided to face life in a different way.

In a few days, the children will go on vacation to Arizona, and Bruce has mentioned several times that he has plans for us. Although I’ve tried all means possible to get some information out of him, he has not given anything away. The gifts continue to appear on my doorstep, but I couldn’t care less about them. I’ve kept each and every one in the bag they arrive in without even bothering to open them.

I don’t need anyone else, I have my Hulk.

By the time the calendar announces that it’s Thursday, I find more than a hundred messages on my blog, which leaves me frozen with shock. I never expected it to go this far.

“Holy skyscraper, Batman,” I answer my phone when Bruce calls.

Tonight he won’t be coming home early, he has a dinner with the people from the project he is working on.

“We’re going out to celebrate tomorrow, baby,” he says.

“Any excuse to get me out of the house and have me to yourself, right?” I giggle.

A growl of exasperation echoes down the line.

“I wish I had you to myself tonight.”

His deep voice gives me goose bumps, in addition to increasing my pulse and the throb in my belly every time he’s close.

“No, you don’t,” I say, pretending to berate him. “What about your important dinner tonight.”

“Damn investors, they’re big boys, they should be able to have dinner without me to babysit them.”

“It’s your job.”

“I’d rather be doing something like you, working from home.”

That takes my breath away and my mouth drops open.

---