“Eric,” I said to the empty room, “what the fuck did you do?”
Teardrops fell down my cheeks, and my shoulders trembled with racking sobs. He really screwed me over this time, I thought bitterly. I wrapped my arms around my legs, hugging my knees.
“What the hell are you doing on the floor?”
I must’ve dozed off against the wall as I’d tried to come up with a reason why Eric would’ve taken his own life.
“Harvey? What are you doing here? I asked sleepily.
“Answer my question first,” he demanded. “You’ve been crying.” It wasn’t a question. He stared at my face, puffy and streaked with dried tears.
“I got some bad news about Eric’s insurance.”
“Oh?” he said, waiting for me to continue. He reached out a hand and levered me up to my feet.
“They think Eric crashed the car on purpose and killed himself.” I laughed. It wasn’t comical, and it was absolutely absurd once I said it out loud.
“His autopsy revealed he was taking medication for depression… He wouldn’t do it. But I don’t know what to believe. So now I have no husband, no fucking money, and I have to come to terms with the fact he’d rather top himself than be here with me. Isn’t life just fucking peachy?”
Harvey took hold of my upper body, forcing me to keep still in my rage. “Sara, take a breath. If he did it, it had nothing to do with you.”
“Oh great, that’s even worse!”
“How so?”
“Then it makes everything he put—” I stopped myself.
“Makes everything what? Finish what you were going to say, Sara.”
Pointless, I wanted to say. All the pain, the control, it was all for nothing. I’d put up with it because I thought I loved him. Thought I owed it to our marriage.
“Tell me,” he encouraged.
I shook my head and stepped out of his grasp. “What are you doing here, anyway?” I asked, angry with him for coming. It was illogical, but why was he here, why did he keep turning up? Why on earth did he have to care, when all I wanted to do was fade away?
Harvey ignored my question again. “You’re gonna have to deal with whatever crap you’re holding back sooner or later, you know.” He stuck out his index finger, brandishing it like a weapon. “It’s going to eat you up inside unless you let it out.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Bullshit! And you know it, Sara.” His eyes blazed, and he took a threatening step toward me. I shrunk back away from him in fright, regretting the movement a second later. I had to remind myself he wasn’t Eric, but the reflex was ingrained in me like second nature.
He raised his eyebrow as he studied my movement, then took a step back.
“If you really want to know why I’m here, I brought you some food. Sushi from the deli I know you like. ‘Cause I know you haven’t been eating.”
I bowed my head sheepishly. I couldn’t and wouldn’t look at him, too ashamed and angry with myself for being so pathetic. So weak. For not being able to let him into the dark corners of my life. He was the only who put up with me, took time out from his busy life to come sit with me. Even if we never shared a word, it felt like we were communicating, that he understood what I was going through. Fuck, he was my only friend, and I was treating him like shit.
“Well?”
“Well, what!?” I shouted. “What the hell do you want from me?” Why was I trying to push him away?
He shrugged and dropped the brown paper bag he’d been holding.
“I’m here for you, Sara. But you need to meet me half-fucking-way.”
“Fuck off, Harvey.” Anger fuelled my regretful words. “You’re not my shrink!”
He turned and left, slamming the door behind him.
Furious, I marched upstairs and threw myself under my duvet. I was doing a fine job of pushing everyone in my life away… Maybe it was me that was the problem?
Bills started to pile up on the coffee table, and I had no idea how to handle any of them. It was like I was entering adulthood all over again, learning how to look after myself. Standing on my own two feet. Or at least trying to, but most days I couldn’t bear to think about the money I owed.
I’d also come to the conclusion that all my married friends were avoiding me. I was a social black hole, the person no one wanted to invite round for a coffee or dinner party for fear they’d get sucked into my shitty world. As if my bad luck of losing a husband was catching. They didn’t want the reminder that their own lives could be shat upon at any moment.
I twiddled my thumbs. I was close to tearing at my hair as I considered all the problems that were beginning to stack up. I needed someone to talk to, to figure out my next step, and Harvey hadn’t come back around. Well, was it any wonder, I thought? It’d been days since I’d last seen his face, and truthfully, I missed more than I wanted to admit.
My hands clutched at my phone, fingers tense, debating whether or not it was a good idea to call the one person I should be able to discuss anything with. But since the wake I hadn’t spoken to my twin, feeling that I shouldn’t have to apologise for her overreaction or her jealousy.
She was my last resort, especially since my fight with Harvey.
After a brief moment of hesitation, I dialled her number and waited as it rang for a long time. I wasn’t sure whether she would pick up or ignore my call, but just as I was about to give up, she answered. “What do you want, Sara?”
I felt my heart sank. “Anita,” I began and rubbed at the hollow socket of my eyes, “I’m sorry about the other week. Emotions were high that day. I didn’t mean for us to fight or anything like that during Eric’s wake.”
“There’s no point rehashing it, Sara. Look, I’m busy. What do you want?” Anita said.
“I…I was wondering if I could steal you for a moment and have a chat? A coffee maybe?” I asked, sounding hopeful.
An irritated huff left her before saying, “Sara, I know you’re going through a tough time, but I don’t have time for a coffee. Why did you call during dinnertime? You know how busy I get. Again, you just don’t think. I have children to look after, a husband to feed and a house to keep clean. Now if there’s nothing else, I’ll to speak to you later.”
Before I could speak, she ended the call, leaving me with the phone in my hand and a loud beeping that cried out into the distance.
Monday morning, the beginning of a new week, full of promise, and I was determined to make an effort. I parked my car and walked towards the animal shelter Eric allowed me to volunteer at. This had been my only workplace during my three years of marriage.
I took the small flight of stairs in twos, smiling as I went, telling myself today was going to be a good day. It was the start of something new, and I looked forward to meeting and caring for all the new arrivals if my plan was successful.
“Hey Sara,” a familiar and friendly voice said. “How you keeping, pet?” asked Dianne, the manager of the shelter. She held a young Lab to her chest; the little rascal nudged and nipped playfully at her fingers.
“Hi, Dianne. I’m good.” I greeted her and gave her a quick hug.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said suddenly. “We were all thinking about you. Tragic. Taken so young. Hope you’re coping OK.”
“Yeah.” I swallowed a sudden lump in my throat.
“Did you come to get some animal therapy?” Dianne asked.
“Well, yes, that of course, but I also wanted to ask you if there was any way I could go full-time? If you could take me on as a worker here instead of a volunteer?”
Her smile faded. “I’m afraid I can’t do that,” she said as flicker of sympathy crossed her hazel eyes. “We don’t have the budget for it. And as much as I would love to pay you, I can’t. Maybe next year when we get more donations. But you know how it is, we barely get enough money to feed the animals.”