The Wife Stalker(8)
She stopped, her breath coming in short gasps. She couldn’t post this. The center’s blog—really, its whole image—was all about positivity. But it had made her feel better to put the words on the page. She highlighted the whole paragraph and hit Delete. Thinking of her audience, she began a new post.
Moving On After Loss
Life isn’t fair—how many times have you said that to yourself and to others? That simple statement, though true, doesn’t begin to plumb the depths of sadness and despair you often experience when something truly terrible happens. After a tragedy, the days are dark, filled with whys and what-ifs: What if you hadn’t argued? What if you had pulled up to that intersection five minutes earlier? Why do you feel so guilty? Why my husband? Why now?
There are the days when you feel fragile, as if you were made of glass and could shatter at any moment. And finally, when you think you will never smile with pure happiness again, acceptance comes. You will recognize its arrival by the awakening of emotions that you’ve held at bay for so long. Suddenly, you will find yourself hoping to meet someone with whom to share the rest of your life. And if you’re lucky enough to find that person, I say to you, pursue it with all your might. Don’t be afraid. Don’t let obstacles deter you. If it’s worth having, it’s worth fighting for. Life is short. Don’t let the past keep you from reaching out to grab the future. Believe that it is possible to love with your whole heart again, and to be loved in return. No matter the cost. Peace and Blessings.
That was better. Piper shut down the computer, put her hands behind her neck, and stretched. She’d post it tomorrow. All the blog posts were signed simply with “Phoenix” rather than her name. Let readers make of it what they would.
It was already four o’clock, only an hour before her alarm was set to go off. Even if she managed to fall asleep for the next hour, she knew she’d get up feeling worse. The meeting for Save the Sound wasn’t for two more weeks, and she hated that she had to wait that long to see Leo again. They’d exchanged mobile numbers, so maybe she’d send him a flirty little text in the meantime. She pulled her phone out and swiped to his contact. Thinking a moment, her fingers began to type: Guess what I just picked up at the bookstore. The Count of Monte Cristo. Maybe we can have a little book club meeting when I’m finished. xo. She hit Send and then allowed herself a moment to relive their lunch together, feeling warm inside. Suddenly, images of Matthew and his daughter flashed through her head again.
“Go away!” she shouted.
Matthew was gone, and nothing would bring him back. She stood up straighter and took a deep breath. It was time to put old ghosts to rest.
8
Joanna
I had only a few hours to finalize all the details before the guests began to arrive for the party. Pouring a cup of coffee, I sat at the kitchen table and went over the list one more time. I decided to see if perhaps my mother would change her mind and come. At first, she had promised to be there, but then she’d called me two days ago to say she was under the weather. When I took her to the doctor yesterday, he could find nothing wrong, but she still insisted that she was too tired even to attempt a showing. She’d battled chronic fatigue syndrome and depression for as long as I could remember, vacillating between bouts of energy and months when she could barely get out of bed, so I’d learned to become self-sufficient at an early age. I brought her number up on my phone. It rang seven times, and, just as I was about to hang up, she answered.
“Hello?” Her voice was thready.
“Hi, Mom. Just calling to see how you’re feeling.”
“A little better, hon. Just tired. Ready for the big day?”
“Pretty much. Are you sure you don’t want to come for a little bit?” I asked, even though I knew crowds made her anxious and she’d feel out of place. She rarely ventured from her house, and I wished there were a way I could help her to expand her world.
“No, I’m going to take a pass. I’ll finish the jigsaw puzzle you got me. I love this kitten one. It’s much better than the one you brought over last month with all those skyscrapers.”
Why were her compliments always backhanded? I bit back the urge to snap at her; this was one of the things Celeste and I were working on in therapy. “I’m glad you like it, Mom. I’m just sorry you’re not up to coming.”
“Besides, it’s no fun going unescorted. Just another casualty of being left by your husband,” she continued, a whine in her voice.
My parents had gotten divorced a lifetime ago, when I was only nineteen, but my mother still played the martyr all these years later.
I suppressed a sigh and forced a cheerful note into my voice. “Okay, then. Get some rest. Feel better.” I hung up.
The kids were bursting with excitement, counting down the hours until the fun began. Practically every area of the backyard had been designated for one kind of game or another. There was a face-painting station, a bouncy house, a row of carnival games with stuffed animal prizes, and a snack bar for the kids with all sorts of delicious treats, my favorite being the caramel apples. There was even a photo booth. When they got tired of all of that, the saltwater pool had been filled with floats of all shapes and sizes, and we’d hired two lifeguards to be on duty for the party. Many of the adults would enjoy one of the two hot tubs and the frozen drink bars set up next to them, with bartenders at the ready. Aside from the standard Memorial Day fare of hot dogs and hamburgers, the spread would include pit beef barbecue, corn on the cob, coleslaw, potato salad, baked beans, and watermelon. No one would leave hungry.