Starting From Scratch (31 page)

wreaking the havoc she had, at Elena for giving up so

easily, and at myself for not fighting harder. I was

embarrassed that it was all affecting me so intensely after

only a few weeks with the woman, but that didn’t help me

drag myself out of bed. I pretended I had the flu and called

in sick to work. Nobody questioned how I’d gotten the flu

in the middle of August. I spent most of the week in bed

with the comforter pulled up over my head, hoping the

world would all just go away or maybe the blackness would

swallow me whole and I could simply disappear.

I missed Elena so badly, my chest ached.

e Sunday after our dinner, I faked my way through

a very quick visit with Grandma, telling her I had a project

I needed to get home and work on. I don’t think she

believed me, but she didn’t press the issue. en I called

Elena’s number over and over and over again for hours.

After filling up her voicemail completely on both her

home phone and her cell so I couldn’t leave any more

messages, I screwed up my courage and walked down to

her door. Her car was gone, so I left a note asking her to

please call me. She didn’t.

Georgia Beers

By Sunday night, I was out of my mind with

frustration. I tried calling again and this time, she

answered. She spoke before I could say anything, her voice

like steel, hard, cold, immovable.

“Stop calling me, Avery. Don’t call me. Don’t come

down here. I don’t want to see you. Do you understand?”

e click sounded in my ear before my words hit the

air. “No, I don’t. I don’t understand.”

I crawled into bed then and only got out to relieve

myself and let Steve relieve himself.

Nearly four days went by.

By noon on ursday, I was so disgusted with myself I

wanted to punch somebody.  e anger started to set in

and, though I’m not an angry person by nature, feeling

pissed off was infinitely better than feeling devastated. I

dragged my sorry behind out of bed, wrinkling my nose at

my own noxious scent, and wondered how Steve hadn’t

chewed his way through a wall just to get away from me.

I muttered my way through a peanut butter and jelly

sandwich, forcing it down where it sat like a rock in my

stomach, and letting my anger surface and bubble over,

wondering aloud how Elena could just end it like that,

without allowing me any sort of explanation, without

wanting to hear another word from me. True, we’d only

been together a short time, but I thought it was pretty

clear—to
both
of us—that we had something special. For

her to just slam the door on any possibilities seemed cold

and selfish to me and I deserved better.

at conclusion, of course, did nothing to make the

hurt go away.

After a shower, some much-needed shaving, and some

clean clothes, I felt the tiniest bit better. I tossed Steve in

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the car and took him to Mendon Ponds, where we

wandered through the parks for more than two hours.

I’ve always found nature to be rejuvenating for me.

Something about being among trees that are decades and

decades old creates an awe in me that I can’t quite explain.

It makes me feel small—not in a bad way, but in a way that

helps me to understand how precious every moment is. e

songs of the chickadees, nuthatches, and cardinals added to

my gradual relaxation as Steve and I tromped through the

woods, him with his terrier nose to the ground and me

with my wondering eyes raised to the skies. I breathed

deeply, willed my body to relax, and told myself that I’d be

okay.

en I went home and baked a batch of sugar cookies

and a chocolate pound cake.

I had phone calls to return, mainly to Maddie. I’d

cancelled Tuesday’s dinner with her on the fly on Monday,

not wanting to get into details because I was too much of a

wreck at the time, but she’d left six messages since then

and I really needed to call her back before she had J.T. and

her buddies banging down my door to make sure I wasn’t

hanging from my shower rod.

“Where the hell have you been?” she practically

shrieked into the phone. Damn Caller ID. “Are you all

right? I’ve been worried sick.”

“I’m alive. I’m fine. I’m just not ready to talk about it,”

I said as soon as she stopped to take a breath.

“Girl troubles?”

“Are there any other kind?”

She sighed loudly in my ear—for my benefit, I’m sure.

“I really want to ask you what the hell is going on, but I

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know you. You’re like a clam. e more I poke at you, the

tighter you close yourself into your shell.”

“I promise to give you details soon, all right? I really

just…need a little more time to lick my wounds.”

“at bad, huh?”

“I’ll call you this weekend,” I said. “Give my love to

J.T.”

I felt the tiniest bit better after that. Now Maddie

knew I was hurting, but she also knew I was okay. Josh was

the other one who was wondering about my state of mind.

He knew it was extremely rare for me to blow off one day

of work, let alone four. But I just wasn’t up for any more

chit-chat or dodging of questions. I’d go back to work

tomorrow and see him then. I was suddenly exhausted and

wanted to crash in my bed. Steve and I took care of our

nightly business and then I headed upstairs to bed with

two cookies, a glass of milk, and the remote: the exciting

and riveting life of a single girl.

Tomorrow, I’d try to wedge myself back into my old

life, my life prior to Elena and Max, before I began

thinking of them as my future. Somehow, though, that old

life seemed impossibly far away.

1

“Man, that sucks. I’m really sorry, Avery.” Josh flipped

his hair out of his eyes and I could tell by the look on his

face that he didn’t quite get what had happened between

Elena and me (I wanted to tell him to join the club) and

that he wasn’t sure what to say. Just like a guy.

I shrugged, tried to make light of things, which was

hard when my eyes insisted on filling with tears at

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inopportune moments. “Yeah, well, what can you do?” I

turned back to my monitor and he turned to his and as we

sat with our backs to each other, I said, “Tell me how

Nina’s doing.”

He took the cue that I wanted him to change the

subject and he ran with it, rambling on about Nina’s weird

craving for baked potatoes with chives and bacon bits on

them, despite the fact that she didn’t like bacon. Or chives.

He regaled me with stories of their weekend trip to Home

Depot to pick a paint color for the baby’s room and how

they stood there for over an hour and finally brought home

enough chips of different shades of green to wallpaper at

least one wall. I only half-listened, but it was good to hear

that life went on, that some things were still the same, that

Elena hadn’t completely shattered everything I considered

normal by simply walking out my door. I shook my head,

hoping to dislodge those thoughts, and allowed myself to

get angry again that I’d let her get so deeply into me in just

a few short weeks. I was far too easy and I vowed not to let

that happen again. I’d be stronger next time.

Next time.

Yeah, right. I snorted.

“What?” Josh said, stopping his storytelling.

“Oh, no. Nothing. Not you. I was…thinking and got

annoyed.”

He squinted at me. “You’re not even listening to me,

are you?”

“Yes! Yes, I am. I promise. Bacon bits. Chives. Green

paint. I’m with you.” I made a rolling gesture with my

hand. “Please. Continue.”

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He eyed me skeptically, but dove right back in and

moved on to the shopping for a crib story. I made sure to

listen more closely this time.

By early afternoon, I knew I was going to make it

through the day intact. I only had to excuse myself to the

ladies’ room once to deal with tears that wouldn’t blink

away, but I pulled it together and went back to work.

“How about a drink after work?” Josh asked. “It is

Friday, after all.”

“at sounds fabulous.” e relief in my voice made

me wince. “Steve will be fine for an extra hour or so.” I’d

gone home at lunch to let him out, so I didn’t feel guilty

about grabbing a cocktail after work. Besides, I thought I

could use one. And I also thought I deserved one. I

glanced at the clock. ree more hours. I could do it.

We were each focused on our projects when my cell

phone rang, making us both jump, then chuckle as we saw

each other startled. I squinted at the screen, the number

one that seemed vaguely familiar, but that I couldn’t

pinpoint.

“Ms. King?” A female voice. Stern. Professional.

“Yes.”

“is is Sandra Johnson from the residences on

Jefferson.” Grandma’s assisted living complex. “We need

you to come by right away.”

My heart leapt into my throat. “Is everything okay?” I

asked, my voice shaky. “Is my grandmother all right?”

“We really need you to come by immediately, Ms.

King. We’ll give you details when you get here.”

1

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My grandmother had passed away in her sleep on

ursday night.

A lot of large medical terms were tossed my way, but

they bounced off me like I had an invisible force field

surrounding my body and landed on the floor at my feet.

Grandma had basically had a heart attack in her sleep and

never woke up. End of story. She was dead. at was really

all I needed to know.

Josh had followed me and stood with me now, which I

barely noticed, as I’d gone into some sort of zombie-like

state of catatonia. Sandra Johnson was the consummate

professional, quietly and thoroughly explaining to me that

Grandma had missed her weekly bridge game with her

coffee klatch and one of them had come looking for her.

When she didn’t answer the door or the phone, her friends

became worried and contacted the staff. ey let

themselves in with a passkey and found my grandmother,

still peacefully tucked into her bed. I listened, but didn’t

respond in any way other than nodding. Josh kept his hand

on the small of my back and looking back now, I’m sure he

was half-expecting me to faint right there in my

grandmother’s living room and was bracing himself to

catch me. Honestly, all I could feel was nothingness. I was

numb. My grandmother was gone. I had no family left.

I was alone.

Sandra Johnson gave me her card and explained that

they would take care of Grandma’s body, get it to the right

people. She also gave me the card of the funeral home my

grandmother had listed in her paperwork and told me the

funeral director would contact me when he was ready for

me. Apparently, there were legal matters that had to be

taken care of by Sandra Johnson on behalf of the residence.

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I nodded some more, then turned to Josh and asked him to

take me back to my car.

As I passed Grandma’s couch, my hand seemed to

reach out all on its own and grab onto the knitted afghan

she and I had made together one winter, before she knew I

was all thumbs and she actually thought she might be able

to teach me how to knit. We’d used all the colors of the

sunset…flaming oranges and deep crimsons and rich

pinks. I pulled it into my arms, bundled it up like a ball

and pushed my nose into it, inhaling all the scents that

reminded me of Grandma—Jean Nate bath splash, freshly

baked cookies, her Aqua Net hairspray. I tried to imprint

them into my memory, knowing I was going to lose them

before long. Lose them forever.

I was an empty shell.

at’s the best way to describe how I felt and how I

acted for the rest of that day. Josh was worried about me

and wanted to follow me home. I told him I’d be fine, that

it was a short drive. He followed me anyway; I could see

him in my rearview mirror a couple of cars back. When I

turned onto my street, he kept going. I made a mental note

to thank him later.

I kept waiting for some dam to burst inside me. When

it didn’t, when I continued to wander around like an

automaton, I began to wonder if Elena had sapped all the

emotion out of me. My grandmother deserved more, but I

had nothing. I felt barren.

Lemon cookies were sharp, loud, they burst with

flavor. I thought maybe they would help. I began pulling

together the ingredients I’d need, measuring flour and

baking soda, grabbing butter and eggs from the fridge. I

zested a lemon into a small glass dish, feeling a microbe of

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relief at doing
something
to keep myself busy so I wouldn’t

simply float off into oblivion like a child’s lost balloon.

When the dough was all mixed and I was lining my