Page 41 of Bursting With Love
He reached in again, and his large hand grasped three outfits and tore them out of the closet with a loud snap as the hangers broke with the force of the pull. Adrenaline surged him forward, and he used both hands to rip the clothes out of the closet—and out of his life.
“Fucking Linda. Fucking storm.” Handful after handful of her clothes piled around his feet. He reached deep into the back of the closet and grabbed a white garment bag. Tears filled his eyes as he stepped forward and buried his face in the white plastic garment bag that held his wife’s wedding gown. His shoulders rounded forward as pain stewed is his gut, then traveled to his chest, where it swirled and gained strength before finding its release through his swollen throat, filling the room as an indiscernible, tortured wail. He gasped for breath, his chest convulsing with sobs. His biceps strained against his sleeves, shaking as he tore the plastic garment bag from its hanger and collapsed to his knees, burying his face in the cold plastic, his tears pooling against his skin.
It ends here. It has to end here.
Chapter Eighteen
TWO HOURS LATER, Jack carried several green Hefty bags full of Linda’s clothes out of the house and dropped them on the front porch. He circled back up the stairs and stood in the middle of the master bedroom. The mattress lay bare as bones, stripped of its sheets and comforter; the empty dresser drawers hung open and cockeyed. The closet doors were open wide, exposing the first space he’d conquered. He wiped his face with the crook of his elbow and drew in a loud breath. His eyes burned from the tears that had already fallen, and as he left the room and approached the other door off of the hall, he thought he didn’t have any tears left to shed.
He grabbed the knob and turned it slowly. His arms would not fling the door open. No matter how hard he tried, his muscles fought against his mind. The veins in his forearms snaked beneath his skin, thick and blue. He groaned and turned away, burying his hand in his hair and bending over as he spat, “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Several fast breaths later, he turned and faced the door again. He couldn’t bring himself to turn the doorknob. He clenched his fists and raised his powerful leg. One fierce kick broke the door free from its hinges, splintering around the lock. The next sent it slamming to the floor. Jack stormed into the room, his eyes locked on the crib beneath the window. He hulked across the floor and gripped the railing, fresh tears streaming down his face. He dropped his eyes to the stuffed elephant in the corner of the crib and reached for it, then brought it to his chest as he lowered himself into the rocking chair in the corner of the room, clutching the stuffed toy as the memories rushed in again. Let’s get the nursery ready just to get in the mind-set of having a baby around. I’ll buy baby clothes and everything. She’d been so excited the month they’d put together the nursery. He’ll have your eyes, Jack. And your height. I hope he has your height. He brought the elephant to his face and pressed it against his cheek. What if it’s a girl? She’ll be as beautiful as you, he’d said to Linda. Let’s start trying Monday. It’s the first of the month. A great time to start! Oh, Jack, I’m so excited. Linda was a planner, always had been. The idea of trying to get pregnant and having a “start” date fit right into her organized and efficient lifestyle. Neither of them could have known that she wouldn’t make it through the weekend. He crushed the elephant between both hands and allowed his body to feel every soulful tear, every wrench of his heart, every kick in the gut of saying goodbye to the child they’d never even had the chance to try to conceive.
A STREAK OF light sliced through the window and moved slowly across the hardwood floor of the nursery. Jack’s tears had dried hours ago, but he hadn’t been able to move from his perch in the rocker. His throat was dry, and his chest ached. He rose to his feet, moving slowly as he opened the closet doors. He took the baby clothes from the hangers carefully, folding each little outfit and placing it inside the crib; then he took that pile of unworn clothes and moved robotically down the stairs, feeling defeated and relieved at once. It’s time. I’ve hidden long enough.
With the baby clothes packed neatly in a grocery bag, he set them on the front porch. He locked the door, then leaned against it and slid down to the floor, contemplating his next move. He’d been thinking about it all afternoon. There was only one thing he could do with Linda’s clothes, and it would require reaching out and mending a fence. He needed to call Linda’s sister, Elise, and give her Linda’s clothes, and the idea of making the call seemed impossible.
