The Absence of Olivia(18)

I turned around and moved toward the kitchen island, inwardly cringing, knowing I’d moved to the exact spot I was standing the night before when he’d touched me. I started to mindlessly make the kids’ lunches, trying to keep my eyes on anything besides him.

“There’s nothing to fix. Let’s just move on and pretend it never happened.”

Devon never responded, just stood in the doorway for a few moments, then sighed, and moved further into the kitchen, prepared his coffee, then walked out the door.

I’d never sighed as loudly or heavily as I did moments after he left. Never, not even when Liv passed away, had I had such stinging tears burning in my eyes. I couldn’t help but hate myself a little more for that fact. Hands braced against the counter, head bowed, breaths heaving, I fought hard to keep the tears at bay, to keep them inside me where they mattered less than splattered on my dead best friend’s countertop.

And, as if I couldn’t hate myself any more in that moment, I realized I was angry with Liv for being dead. If she were alive, this never would have happened.

I couldn’t keep the cries in anymore. They fell out of me, clawing to get free, until I heard the voices of Ruby and Jax coming down the stairs. With strength I never knew I possessed, I harnessed my sobs and reined in my emotions. I was in control just enough so that when the children entered, they were only slightly convinced I wasn’t upset. Children, no matter how often we try to tell ourselves otherwise, are observant and smart. They just lack tact.

“Are you crying?” Ruby asked as soon as she saw my face.

“I stubbed my toe.” More lies to a child.

“But you’re wearing shoes,” she questioned. See? Smart. Observant.

“I stubbed it really hard. Here. Sit down and eat your breakfast.”

The children did as they were asked, and didn’t question my splotchy face.

“Jaxy, today is a half day at preschool, so I’ll be there to pick you up, okay?”

“M’kay,” he answered, his mouth full of the kind of sugary crap their mother would never have fed them. Liv would have gotten up early and made sure her children had a well-balanced breakfast before they went to school.

“Ruby, I’m gonna go take a look at your mummy. Where did your daddy put it?”

“It’s in the laundry room. Daddy said he could turn the fan on in there and it would dry faster.”

“Well, that was pretty smart.” I walked away from the kitchen table and headed toward the laundry room. When I peeked inside, I nearly got whiplash from the rapid change in emotion. One second, I was morose and riddled with guilt. The next, I could hardly hold myself up from laughing so hard. Sitting atop a collapsible drying rack was, what looked to be, a mummy that had been completely disfigured and then put back together in the wrong order; kind of like a Mr. Potato head if it had been put together by someone who had lost all feeling in their hands. And was blind. And possibly drunk. Nothing about the mummy looked great. But it was dry, so not all was lost.

I walked back to the kitchen, examining the poor mummy, still smiling at the mental image of Devon, still in his work clothes, sleeves rolled up, attempting to papier-maché a tiny person.

“Rubster, I’m sorry, but this mummy is going to have to do. Just tell your teacher you were trying to portray the people as they’re drawn in the hieroglyphics.”

“The what?” The wideness of her eyes indicated she had no idea what hieroglyphics were.

“What kind of education are you getting where you’re studying Egypt, but not hieroglyphics?”

“Uh, the kind where they teach speaking English,” she answered, with more snark than I’d like to hear from a seven-year-old.

“Touché, kid.”

“Why do you keep using words we don’t understand?” Jaxy asked, just before he shoveled more cereal into his mouth.

“Hieroglyphics were drawings people made in ancient Egypt that told stories. They were kind of like the first stick-people drawings. And sometimes the people they drew looked a little funny.”

“Like my mummy?”

“Exactly.”

“What does too-shay mean?” Jaxy’s asked and I smiled at his pronunciation.

“It’s the same as saying ‘good point.’”

“So, why didn’t you just say ‘good point?” Ruby asked, again with the snark.

“Because then we wouldn’t have had this enlightening conversation.” Both kids looked at me with a question in their eyes, probably wondering what enlightening meant, but then they both smiled at the same time, with the same smile, and I couldn’t help but smile back. They had their mother’s smile. Two tiny Liv’s were smiling at me, and I couldn’t find a way to be upset in that moment.

All the anger and guilt washed away when those children smiled. Liv knew I wasn’t perfect, and she didn’t expect me to be the perfect fill-in for her. She just wanted me to be here and love her kids. I was doing the best I could.

And so was Devon.

Suddenly, I felt terrible about the way I’d treated him. The last thing he needed was someone making him feel worse about a mistake he already felt terrible about. Even the instant it occurred, I knew he was sorry, knew it wasn’t intentional, and I shouldn’t have made him feel worse. I had no idea what it felt like to lose a spouse.