Forever, Interrupted(58)

“What made this ‘click’ just happen?” I ask. My words are sharp; my voice is bitter.

“What?” she asks.

“It’s interesting that you just ‘changed’ like that. You go from being this . . . kind of . . . from someone who . . . ” I give up on trying to name it. “Well to turn around now and be the poster child for love. What made you change your mind?”

“You,” she says. She says it as if it will pacify me, as if I should be happy. “I just realized that life is about love. Or at least, it’s about loving someone.”

“Do you hear yourself? You sound like a Valentine’s Day card.”

“Whoa, okay,” she says as a reaction to the anger in my voice. “I’m sorry. I thought you’d be happy for me.”

“Happy for you? My husband died and I’m sitting here miserable and alone, but you’ve learned from this whole experience how to love. Congratulations, Ana! We’re all really happy for you.”

She is stunned, and unfortunately, because it is a silent stunned, I am able to continue.

“Let’s all celebrate for Ana! She’s found true love! Her life wasn’t perfect enough with her perfect apartment and her perfect body and all of these men chasing her, but now, she’s evolved enough to see in my husband’s death a life lesson about the importance of love and romance.”

Ana is now almost in tears, and I don’t want her to cry but I can’t stop myself.

“Was it love at first sight? This romance of yours? Are you going to get married next week?”

By now, all I have as evidence of how much Ben loved me is how quickly he knew he wanted to marry me. I honestly think that if Ana says Kevin has already started talking about marriage I will lose the only piece of life I have left in me.

“No.” She shakes her head. “That’s not it.”

“Then what is it, Ana? Why are you doing this to me?”

“What am I doing to you?” she finally explodes. “I haven’t done anything to you. All I did was meet someone I like and try to share it with you. Just like you did months ago to me and I was happy for you!”

“Yeah, well, you weren’t widowed at the time.”

“You know what, Elsie? You don’t have to be a widow every second of every day of your life.”

“Yes, Ana, I do.”

“No, you don’t. And you think you can just tell me to f*ck off because you think I don’t know anything, but I know you better than anyone. I know you sit here at home alone and think about what you’ve lost. I know it consumes you. I know that you keep his things around like they are a f*cking medal for how tortured you are.”

“You know what—” I start, but she interrupts me.

“No, Elsie. I’ll tell you what. Everyone may tiptoe around you, myself included, but at some point someone needs to remind you that you lost something you only had for six months. Six months. And I’m not saying this isn’t hard, but it’s not like you’re ninety and you lost your life partner here. You need to start living your life and letting other people live theirs. I have the right to be happy. I didn’t lose that right just because your husband died.”

It’s quiet for a moment, as I look at her with my mouth wide open in shock.

“And neither did you,” she adds, and she walks out the door.

I stand there for a few minutes after she leaves, frozen. Then I reanimate. I walk into the back closet and find the pillow I stuffed in a trash bag right after he died, the pillow that smells like him. I just stand there, smelling it through the open hole at the top of the bag, until I can’t smell anything anymore.





Ana calls me over and over again during the week, leaving messages that she’s sorry. That she should never have said those things. She leaves text messages saying much the same. I don’t answer them, I don’t answer her. I don’t know what to say to her because I’m not mad at her. I’m embarrassed. I’m lost.

I did only know Ben for six months. I didn’t even celebrate a birthday with him. I only spent January to June with him. How well can you really love someone if you haven’t seen him through an August or an autumn? This is what I was afraid of. I was afraid that because I hadn’t known Ben long, I hadn’t known him well. I think I needed someone to say it to me before I could really think about it. And after thinking about it, over the course of the week I avoid Ana, I decide that that theory is wrong. It doesn’t matter how long I knew him. I loved him. I still love him.

Then I think that maybe it is time to start putting his things away, because if I did love him, if our love was real, and it did matter, then what is the harm in putting some of his things in boxes? Right? I’ll be okay, right?

I don’t call Ana to help me. I’m not sure I could look her in the eye. Instead, I call Susan. When she answers the phone, she immediately asks about the marriage certificate, and I have to admit that I have not called the county yet. I tell her that I didn’t have enough time, but that is a lie. I did have the time. I just know that if they tell me they do not have a record of our marriage, I will not be able to move his things into storage. I know it will make me hold on tighter to his old clothes and toothbrush. I need to believe the government knows we were married. Otherwise, I’ll have to prove it to myself in arbitrary and pathetic ways. I am trying to move forward. I am trying to make arbitrary and pathetic things of the past.