At first I didn’t know what to say to him. What could I possibly articulate when the woman he had
spent his life with was lying dead before him?
“She loved you fiercely, you know.” My voice sounded vacant and small. “She . . . she was the best
kind of person. I’m grateful to have known her.”
A sob escaped his lips, and it reverberated in my chest, creating a gaping hole.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do without her.”
The air whooshed right out of me.
Was this the flip side to love?
You created a life with someone—shared your whole heart, your whole soul—and then one day,
they left you. It was a harsh and brutal kind of reality.
And I wasn’t convinced it was worth it.
To open yourself up to someone, only to be left with a cavernous wound.
Mr. Jackson cleared his throat and looked at his wife. His eyes were red, his brown skin splotchy,
but his voice was strong. “But I wouldn’t take back one day of our forty years together. Not one damn
day. Do you hear me, Louise?”
He was no longer talking to me, and I was glued to my seat, entranced by his words. “You made
my life worth living. You made it
matter
. You made it infinitely better.” His voice cracked on those last
words, and he tucked his head into his hand.
I waited next to him as he sobbed into his fingers and then wiped his cheeks with a Kleenex. The nurse cleared the room, allowing for privacy. She patted my shoulder on her way out.
Mr. Jackson stood up and inched toward his wife. Placing the tulips on the pillow above her, he
kissed her forehead. “I know I’ll see you again. I have to believe that. God wouldn’t be that cruel, to
take you from me without the hope of our reunion.”
I pinched my eyes closed as a tear escaped.
I already knew what it felt like to be without Bennett. But that paled in comparison to what Mr.
Jackson was going through. And now I’d be without Mrs. Jackson, too. Coming to work would be
difficult for a long damn time, like having a cloud hovering over my head, raining sadness over me.
But I could hear her voice in my head, urging me to move on, to live my life, to stop being so damn
sad.
Just then Mr. and Mrs. Jackson’s children burst into the room and gathered around their father.
Tears and hugs, grief and love. All combined in a circle of limbs and heads and hearts.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Backing out of Mrs. Jackson’s room, I recited my own silent and painful good-bye.
I gathered my flowers and coat and walked home in a numb fog.
I considered Mr. Jackson’s words. Making a life with someone was all-encompassing.
You either took a chance or put up road blocks.
Whichever way, you were taking a risk, gambling with fate.
Toying with your own happiness.
My phone buzzed with a text.
Ella: What’s new?
Me: Mrs. Jackson died today. I can’t believe she’s gone. On my way
home now.
Ella: I’m so sorry. I’ll meet you at your place.
Ella came bearing Chinese food. She let me cry on her shoulder over a bottle of wine. She knew
how fond I’d grown of Mrs. Jackson and how the lady had slowly infiltrated my life. Mrs. Jackson made
me question my ideals, as if she were a reflection of the person I hoped to become, despite my
upbringing, my hardened heart, and my meaningless flings.
We ate ice cream and watched bad TV, and I told her everything.
About my tattoo, making up with Bennett, making love,
feeling
love.
And it felt good. To let someone in.
“For whatever it’s worth, I’m proud of you, bitch,” Ella said, throwing away our empty food
containers. “For what?” I asked before taking the final sip from my wineglass.
“I’ve known you a long-ass time,” she said, topping off our glasses and then sitting back down.
“Your life can be divided into a before and after period.”
I kept my mouth shut, reflecting on her words.
“The Avery
before
Tim was fun, optimistic even, despite your mother not really acting like much of
a parent most of the time. Even after your grandma died, you still seemed to have hope about the
future.”
I did. I missed my grandma desperately, but she made me want something better for myself.
“The Avery
after
Tim was hardened, broken, and closed off. And I got it. God, I
so
got it.” She
adjusted herself on the couch in order to face me better. “Despite all of that, you still tried to have some
fun. It’s just . . . the fun was different.”
“Different how?”
“Like you were just filling a need, taking care of business.”
I nodded because she was right. So right. About all of it. I had just been going through the motions,
except when it came to school, my job, and Adam.
“First,” I said, “I hate that you just marked my life with that bastard’s name.”
“Why
not
say his name out loud?” she asked. “You want him to remain anonymous? Let’s
out
that
asshole! Tim! Tim! Tim! The fucking bastard!”
I laughed while taking another sip and almost choked on my wine.
“Second,” I said, after clearing my throat several times, “
your
life could be marked by a before and
after, too, my dear bitch-ass friend.”
Ella’s eyes darkened at the reminder of her brother’s death, and I grabbed for her hand.
“But shit, I admire how you handled it, Ella. I wish I’d been more like you. You got help and never
changed who you were,” I said. “I mean,
I
saw how you were different, because I’ve known you for so
long, but you didn’t let it . . . take you down.” “I love you, asshead.” Ella grabbed me for a tight hug. “Thank you for finally letting me in.
Promise you won’t shut me out again. Or Bennett. Or anybody.”
She was right. I had closed myself off in ways even I hadn’t realized.
“Promise,” I said, but still I hoped I could hold up my end of the bargain.
Besides, if I
hadn’t
promised Mrs. Jackson might’ve kicked my ass the next time she got ahold of
me.
When I next looked at the time it was already nine o’clock. I realized Bennett would’ve been home
for a couple of hours by now.
And I had never called him.
I never responded to his flowers and note.
I never invited him over.
Looked like I fucked up again.
I put my head in my hands, my brain abuzz with worry.
All at once there was knock on my door. My stomach bunched into a hard ball. I was afraid it was
Bennett coming over to give me a piece of his mind.
To tell me I’d hurt him again.
Ella answered the door and let him inside. My heart strained against my rib cage. I wanted to race
into his arms and push him away at the same time. My emotions were all over the map.
I wanted him so badly that it terrified the hell out of me.
“Hey.” He stood in front of me, and my fingers tangled in the afghan draped across my legs. I
couldn’t look at him. If I saw his eyes I’d find hurt, pain, anger.
But if I looked deeply enough, I’d also find love. The flip side of fear, Mrs. Jackson had said.
Bennett knelt down and lifted my chin with his thumb.
My gaze slid up to meet his. His eyes were soft and concerned, not angry.
“Bennett, I’m sorry, I . . .” “I’m here to relieve Ella,” he said. “She called and told me what happened. We agreed to do a shift
change at nine o’clock.”
I stared at Ella, confusion in my eyes.
“That’s right, dill weed,” Ella said, her voice smug. “Now make room for him and let him feed you
some more ice cream.”
I looked between Bennett and Ella, my heart swelling tenfold.
She grabbed her coat, kissed my cheek, and headed for the door. “You’re in good hands now.” And
then she was gone.
Bennett immediately wrapped me up in a hug. “I’m so sorry you lost your friend. I want to be here
for you tonight.”
I was so relieved that he wasn’t mad or hurt.
He wasn’t pushing me to think or talk about anything that happened today or yesterday.
He understood that I was grieving and left it at that.
“Bennett, I wanted to call you, tell you those flowers were amazing, and invite you over.”
“Shhhh . . .” he said, wrapping us in the blanket. “We have plenty of time to talk about all of that.
For now, let’s just be together.”
We lay on the couch, staring into each other’s eyes, saying nothing and everything all at once.
I told him stories about Mrs. Jackson, and how she was a pain in the ass, but also pushed me to be a
better person. Kind of like Bennett had been doing. Without him even realizing it. He was just being
him. Loving me purely. Easily. Incredibly.
Later, we retreated to my bedroom to watch bad reality TV, and he held me all night.
Before we drifted off to sleep, he whispered in my ear, “Avery, I want us to work through the sad
and hard parts together. To always find our way back to each other.”
*** The next morning I woke with the initial shock and sting of losing someone.
But underneath the surface of my raw emotions were the underpinnings of truth.
Of love. Of friendship. Of hope.
As I lay awake in Bennett’s arms and listened to his soft breaths, my eyes focused in on his
drawing across the room. I considered his bedtime confession and wondered if in fact we
had
weeded
through all that baggage in our paths and finally found a way to each other.
We both had class that morning, but agreed to meet back at my place in the afternoon. Neither of us
was scheduled to work, and we wanted desperately to spend the day together.
I called my supervisor to ask if she’d heard about any of the funeral arrangements for Mrs. Jackson
and whether I could have the time off to attend. She assured me that I could.
Before we hung up, she said, “You know, every one of us has had a Mrs. Jackson in our lives. A
person we’ve grown close to, despite trying not to. And it’s a good thing. In fact, it’s a necessary part of
life. It means we’re human, Avery.”
Bennett and I went out for a late lunch and then tooled around the local art museum together. He
showed me his favorite artists and helped me appreciate some of their earlier works.
It was comforting to be with him. To do normal things with him. To start folding him in to my life.
We made love that night on my terms. I was on top, and it was fast and frantic, soft and sexy, and
everything in between. Afterward, we lay wrapped up in each other’s arms.
“I’m not sure I’ll ever tire of this,” Bennett said, still winded. His hand skated over my breasts, to
my stomach, to my thighs, making me quiver with need again.
And for the first time in years, I felt a flicker of joy.
Incandescent. Radiating inside me and through me.
His fingers reached for my face, and he kissed me slow and melting, his tongue tangling with mine in a way that felt so private. So profound. So right.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Bennett and I were inseparable the following week. He attended Mrs. Jackson’s funeral service with me,
politely introducing himself and shaking family members’ hands.
Her daughter, Star, seemed to know more about me than I thought she had, which comforted me. It
cemented the idea in place that Mrs. Jackson was as fond of me as I was of her.
At the wake, she whispered, “Bennett seems like a good man. Momma would have liked him.”
Bennett surprised me by bringing a bouquet of daisies to the cemetery. We stood with Mrs.
Jackson’s family as everyone departed, throwing the long stems onto her casket, one by one.
Work that week had been tough. A new resident had already taken Mrs. Jackson’s bed, as if trying
to wipe clean the memory of her. But she’d always be with me.
Her kind and wise words. Her confidence and biting humor.
The new resident was a crotchety old man named Mr. Smith, and I snickered every time he barked
an order as I crossed into the room. I figured Mrs. Jackson would get a kick out of it, too.
You’re trying to make me miss you, aren’t you?
And then Bennett drove with me to Mom’s court hearing. He asked if he could tag along, and at
first I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. It was as if he were inserting himself into my past and all its
ugly secrets.
He had taken the morning off work and said he wanted to come to the courthouse for moral
support—that he’d wait in the car or the lobby for me.
He knew there was the possibility that Tim would be there. The defendant had the right to attend
the hearing. If he didn’t show, he’d still be served the paperwork. As we pulled into my mother’s driveway, my palms became slick on the steering wheel. Adam was
