Page 16 of All Your Firsts Without Me

“I think the service went well. Everyone loved your singing,” Kaden says, trying to break the silence.

“It was nice. Your dad would have loved it.” I tug at a loose string on my dress absentmindedly. “When are you going back to school?”

“I need to leave first thing in the morning. But don’t worry, Jeff and Teresa will take turns staying with you for a while. As long as you need, they said.”

I’ll call her tomorrow and tell her that won’t be necessary. I’m fine staying by myself. I don’t need a bunch of babysitters.

When we get home, Kaden pulls out a big tub of double chocolate chunk ice cream from the freezer. We sit beside each other on the couch, he hands me a spoon, keeping one for himself and we dig in. “You know I’ve always looked at you as more of a sister than a step-mother,” he says, laughing.

I shove him in the arm, happy for the light conversation and ice cream. “Well, I’ve always looked at you as a brother, not as a son, if that makes you feel any better.”

He nods, pulling the spoon out of his mouth. “We’re going to be okay, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” We finish the entire tub then say our goodnights. It’s been a long, long day and Kaden needs to get on the road early tomorrow.

I’m so tired until I lie down, then I’m wide awake. Great. Swinging my legs over the bed, I lean over and tug my box of letters out. It’s crazy to think he wrote all of these for me. Just for me. It makes me happy, yet sad. I don’t want letters. I want real conversations. I want hugs and kisses. I want late night snacks. I want him. I want him.I want him.

Quietly, I make my way back out to the garage and drive back to the cemetery. It’s dark but I don’t care. I park, grab my pillow and blanket out of the back, then walk the short distance to my husband’s grave. The casket is gone, only ascar of raw dirt remains. I lie on my back next to it, staring at the stars, wondering where he is.

When I was young, my father preached to me about damnation, fire, and brimstone. It seemed those were the only sermons I deserved. My younger sister, however, got a different side of my father. He told her that a special place awaited her in Heaven. Actually, I have five sisters, my father loved them all. All but me. I’m the black sheep of the bunch.

I wonder if David is in Heaven.

Anyhow, I don’t know why I’m even thinking about them. They are not my life anymore. David and Kaden are. Well, now it’s just Kaden… no, that’s not true either. Kaden is going back to school tomorrow so it’s just me.

Alone. Will it be just like the basement all over again?

I lie there all night, watching shooting stars, wishing on every one of them. When the sun forces them into hiding, I pick up my blanket and pillow. I stand in front of his headstone. “I’ll be back,” I say shyly. “I hope you’re not disappointed in me. I… I didn’t want you to be alone.”

I turn quickly and hustle back to the car, taking a deep breath when I get in. That was harder than I thought.

CHAPTER NINE

April

I said goodbye to Kaden this morning, then called Jeff and Teresa and told them I was fine. I don’t need anyone to stay with me. They pleaded a strong case, but I firmly told them no. That is something David taught me, that it’s okay to say no.

The first day alone went fine. I kept busy cleaning the house. My publisher called to check in. I went through the motions. I told him I wasn’t sure about the book signing. I’m not sure I’m ready for that. Maybe if David was here.

As the sun was getting ready to set, I decided to go down to the beach but when I got to the path, the memories of the night he died came rushing back. I turned around and ran back inside the house. I gathered up my things and drove to the cemetery instead.

“It’s me again,” I tell David quietly. I lay the blanket down, making quick work of unpacking the picnic basket I brought along. “I didn’t want to eat alone,” I say before taking a bite of the sandwich I made. Brushing the crumbs off my shirt, I glance up at his name. “At least I’m eating. Right?”

Here with him, I don’t have to think about the rest of the world where I might say or do something wrong. Here with him, I can still be myself. Awkward. Quiet. Me.

“So, I’m thinking I could keep writing but here with you. I don’t really see any reason to have to go out in the world. I mean, of course I’ll go home to shower and change.” I glance around, feeling more at home with the quiet of the dead than I do in the hustle and bustle of the living. “I mean it’s nice here. It’s better than the basement and you’re here so…” A flock of birds rush out of a nearby tree, circling high before settling back in its branches.

“I know you would be angry with me,” I whisper, breaking off a piece of my sandwich and tossing it to a squirrel who has curiously ventured my way.

After I finish eating, I pack everything away in the car before going back. “Goodnight,” I say quietly, plucking grass as I lie on my side. Eventually, I fall asleep.

This remains my ritual for many days to follow. Maybe it will last until the day they put me in the ground beside him.

My moves become robotic. Wake, go home, shower, answer calls, tell everyone I’m fine, pack my supper and head back to the cemetery. I’m fine. This is good. This I can do.

I’m starting to wonder if my father was right. Maybe I am cursed. I probably deserve to be alone. Alone. Alone. Alone.

No, I’m not alone. David is here. And Mr. Henry Ferguson and his wife. They are only a few feet away. And then there is Elizabeth Wentworth, she died at the ripe age of one hundred and three. What stories she must have had, living that long.

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