Chapter 47
Abby
Ten Months
Arustling noise wakes me up, and I peek one eye open to see who dares disturb my slumber after my sweet, darling angel–who has never done anything wrong–woke up every single hour last night for some godforsaken reason.
Just as I gear up for a whisper-yell tirade, I hear him murmuring something so quietly I can barely hear him.
“Be good for your mom, okay pretty girl? I’m on a double-shift, but I’ll be thinking about you every second. I love you.”
He turns away from where Erin is sleeping soundly (like she didn’t do sleep deprivation torture on me all night), and startles when he realizes I’m awake.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, stooping to kneel next to my makeshift bed. “I thought you were conked out, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s okay,” I whisper in return. “Do you always say goodbye to Erin when you leave for work?”
“Most days,” he shrugs. “Especially when it’s early and you’re both still sleeping. Sometimes I peek in your room to say goodbye to you, too.”
“Jack Robbit, you old softy,” I tease, but my heart is full to bursting. “Just for that, I’ll forgive you for waking me up.”
“Go back to sleep, pretty girl,” he chuckles. “I’ll see you tomorrow night. I’m on a double shift, so I’ll be at the station tonight.”
I nod, squeezing his hand as he stands to leave. The moment he’s out the door, the overwhelming realization that I already miss him knocks the wind out of me.
I miss him and I am so unbelievably in love with him. And I think I'm ready to talk about it.
Memories of the past year and a half play like a highlight reel in my head, my smile growing wider with each passing one.
A miracle casserole when I couldn’t keep anything down because of the morning sickness. My first ultrasound. The first time he slept on the couch. Finding out that Little One was a baby girl. Minions costumes. Building the crib.
My complete meltdown. Kicking him out. Laboring in the hospital. The way he came back without a second thought the moment I said I needed him. Appointments, sleepless nights, so many diapers.
So much leading up to the birth was colored with grief and sadness. But so much since then has been full of life and joy. And the brightest of all the moments have been the ones he's there for.
Jack Robb has been here for all of it–my very best and very worst. In my grief, in my fear, in my exhaustion, he has been steadfast and loyal and kind. He has loved me so deeply, so fiercely, without ever asking for any love in return.
He might not have asked for it, but he has it. I didn't know it was possible, to have this much love in your heart. I felt like my whole heart was taken up by Aaron. But there was room there for Erin. My heart has made more room than ever before, and I want to keep him right there with them.
Suddenly not caring that it’s nearly four in the morning, I quietly sneak out of the nursery without waking Erin and hurry to my room, reaching for the journal tucked in my bedside table.
I write for what feels like hours, scribbling every detail of every moment I can remember, trying to pinpoint the exact one when I fell in love with my best friend. But I don’t think there is one.
It bloomed slowly and quietly, rooting itself in my heart before I even knew it was happening. It didn’t come out of nowhere, it wasn’t a new love. The love just…changed. Seamlessly. Effortlessly. Like an inevitability.
And here I am, staring at the timeline tangibly inked on the pages in front of me, tears beginning to stain the page. A love story I didn’t see until I saw it.
I see it now.
***
“Hello, my sweet ginger angel,” Ellie rattles when she answers the phone. “How are you? How’s the tiny ginger angel?”
“She’s good,” I chuckle. “We really need to narrow in on a nickname for her before she gets older– little-one-tiny-ginger-angel-sweet-baby- pretty-girl doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue.”
“Well I’m certainly not changing mine, so everyone else needs to get on board real quick. Anyway, what’s up?”
“I was wondering if you could come over,” I say, chewing on my thumb nail. “And then maybe watch Erin for an hour or so while I go do something.”
“Already out the door and crossing the street, is the front door unlocked?”
Before I can even answer yes, she’s kicking off her shoes in my hallway and traipsing into the living room, gracefully plopping down on the couch and folding her legs underneath her.
“How are my two favorite girls?” she coos, leaning close to where Erin sits in her jumper, smiling up at her Auntie Ellie. “Don’t answer that, I already know you’re perfect, aren’t you?”
Erin giggles, kicking her legs enthusiastically and spinning the toy attached to the jumper.
Leaning back up, she turns her attention to me, and her face shifts in the blink of an eye.
“What is it?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, bewildered.
“Whatever bombshell you’re about to drop on me. Don’t drag it out, please.”
“Okay, well,” I say slowly, the corners of my mouth twitching upwards when she rolls her eyes. “Something happened this morning, and it just…it changed everything. And nothing. More like it had already happened and it finally clicked in my brain.”
“Use more words, please,” she huffs impatiently.
I tell her about waking up to find Jack saying goodbye to Erin, about my epiphany, about the manifesto-esque timeline I painstakingly wrote down. With every phrase, her smile widens more and more, her blue eyes glistening with emotion.
When I finally finish, she runs over to me, nearly knocking us both over backwards in the wrong chair with the force of her love.
“I am so, so happy,” she says tearfully once we’re upright and more comfortably seated back on the couch. “Aaron was one in a million, and I miss him desperately. And I know you do, too. And you’ll never stop loving him. But this is a good thing, Abs.”
“I know,” I whisper, our hands intertwining in the space between us.
“The weird thing is, I don’t feel guilty.
Well, maybe I feel a little guilty about not feeling guilty,” I concede.
“I have spent so much time feeling guilty about everything I've done or not done since the day he died. I don't want to do it anymore."
"And I know it’s fast," I continue. "And it never would have happened if Aaron hadn’t died, but he did. And you don’t need to tell me that he would want me to be happy, because I know he would.”
She nods her head, sniffling, still beaming.
“And strangely enough, the fact that it’s Jack,” I say, voice breaking. “I think he would be so relieved to know that the two people he loved most found solace in each other. He was the gentlest, most generous soul this earth has ever seen. I don’t think he’d be upset, do you?”
She shakes her head vehemently.
“Absolutely not, I think it’s exactly like you said,” she says emphatically. “The two people he loved most survived because they had each other. And the way your love grew with you–I know he would find that so beautiful.”
“What is everyone else going to think?” I whisper. “What if everyone says I moved on too fast, or that I’m not honoring Aaron, or they accuse us of something happening while Aaron was still alive?”
“I will kick their teeth in,” she says, placing a gentle kiss on my forehead.
“You are so sweet,” I giggle. “And so very violent.”
“Do you not remember the conversation I had with Aaron about my violent tendencies? It happened right in your doorway,” she asks, pointing a thumb over her shoulder.
“Oh my god,” I say, shaking my head. “I forgot about that.”
“Hey,” she says, placing her hands on my shoulders and staring at me intently.
“Fuck what anyone else says. It pains me to say this as your best friend, but no one has loved you and Erin more over this past year than Jack.
I would trust him with your lives, and mine and Griffin's, and anyone in general, actually. He’s just…
Jack. Of course you love him. Who wouldn't?”
“So when do you think you’ll tell him?" she asks excitedly. "Because you need to. And it shouldn't just be 'I love you.' You should tell him everything. Don't be like me, don't hold back. Don't waste a fraction of a second when a great love is right in front of you.”
“As soon as possible,” I say quickly. “We've talked about talking about it, we were just both waiting for me to be ready. But he’s on a double shift right now, he won’t be home until like, two in the morning tomorrow night.”
“That gives you about,” she muses, looking down at her watch. “38 hours to figure out what you're going to say.”
“That feels like a million years and thirty seconds at the same time.”
“I know,” she says, voice softening. “But you’ll figure it out. You’ve never been one to play games or mince words. You’ll find the right time, and the right way.”
“If you say so,” I say, running my fingers through my curls and securing them in a half-ponytail. “Would you mind staying for a few hours? I think I need some time to myself to figure this out.”
“Would I mind,” she scoffs. “Would you mind a library full of romance novels? Would Griffin mind if he suddenly had me all to himself forever? Would David mind…whatever David loves?”
“You’re right, you’re right,” I laugh. “This is your dream come true.”
“I need one of you so bad,” she says, lifting Erin from her jumper and peppering her cheeks with kisses. “I promise I'm making you a best friend as fast as I can.”
“Get to work, Ellie Bellie,” I say, pointing a finger at her. “You better mean it.”
She waves her hand in dismissal, not taking her eyes off of Erin. I roll my eyes, and grab my purse from the kitchen table. There’s someone else I desperately want to talk to about this.
***
The mild and rainy winter has kept the grass over Aaron’s grave from dying, providing a soft blanket of green to sprawl out on as I lay on my side, head propped in my hand as I look at his tombstone. It’s been a year and a half since my husband was unfairly, excruciatingly ripped from my life.
I hate that what they say is true–it does get easier over time.
Not that my grief gets smaller, but that I grow around it.
Sometimes I get knocked back down by the reality that he’s gone.
Sometimes I feel sick to my stomach with guilt when it doesn’t knock me down.
Learning to ride those waves instead of fighting against them has been monumental.
“Hi, honey,” I murmur out loud. “I miss you. So much.”
Tears immediately well in my eyes and spill over my cheeks.
“I have something to tell you,” I say through my tears. “And I hope you don’t hate me for it."
“I never thought I would love anyone ever again. Never imagined dating, or meeting someone new, or even considering someone filling the hole you left. And I guess I didn’t–he’s not new, there was no dating, and he honors the space that your love will always fill. Because he’s our best friend.”
The tears on my face feel cold in the slight breeze that plays across the graveyard, the flowers and the leaves in the trees dancing in the current.
“I don’t exactly know how it happened, but it did. No one will ever replace you, Aaron. And he’s not trying to. He would never."
“But my heart made more room, I think. It wasn’t there before, but now he’s rooted deep in my soul, and I don’t think I could fight it if I tried."
“He loves Erin so fiercely, honey. I need you to know that. I wish you could see it. I wish you could see her. She is so much like you.”
I laugh through my sobs, picturing the way Erin’s face lights up with her dad’s smile, his dark hair a stark contrast to the pale skin and green eyes she inherited from me.
“She’s the happiest baby I’ve ever met,” I gush. “She’s so smart, and somehow so kind already. He is wrapped around her finger. And she loves him, too. So do I.”
I let the confession hang in the air–the silence not awkward or uncomfortable, but peaceful. Hopeful.
“And he loves you,” I whisper, my voice hoarse from the long pause and the overwhelming emotion. “He misses you every day. I know he talks to you. I’m sorry I don’t do that more.”
I trail my fingers across his grave, breathing in the earthy scent of the grass and soil.
“I don’t know what happens now,” I say. “But I’m going to tell him I love him. I’m going to see what happens when I let the light back in. And I hope with every fiber of my being that I’m doing the right thing. That you’d be okay with this.”
With a swoop, a red cardinal lands on his tombstone.
My breath catches, and I try not to move for fear of scaring it off.
But it doesn’t fly away when it notices me.
It just stares, blinking slowly. With an overwhelming peace that permeates through my very soul, I can almost feel Aaron’s hand in the breeze, stroking my hair in comfort.
I can almost hear his voice, whispering sweetly in my ear, “It’s okay, Abs. I’m okay.”
“Hi, honey,” I murmur softly, gaze transfixed on the scarlet beauty. “I love you.”
The bird chirps at me once before unfurling its wings and taking flight again.
My whole life, I’ve heard that red cardinals symbolize a loved one coming down from heaven to check on you. And my whole life, I’ve thought it was cheesy, and cringey–something someone made up to avoid facing their loss.
I don’t think that anymore.