Chapter Thirty-Two
Victory
It’s strange being back in the city where everyone is focused on cell phones and in a hurry.
I got used to moving slower, feeling more relaxed, and being greeted with smiles and welcoming conversation everywhere we went.
This is like a different world, which isn’t necessarily better or worse than the island.
It’s just an awakening. Like when I first started spending more time with Wells, and I felt like I was coming out from under a cloud— or from inside a box —and remembered my love of aimlessly walking around the city discovering new-to-me shops and cafés, listening to live music, and living .
As we drive past skyscrapers, street vendors, and people gathered on street corners waiting for lights to change, I know this big, exciting city that helped make me who I am hasn’t changed. I have.
My phone chimes with a text.
Seth: How was your weekend? When are you heading home?
Me: It was amazing. I’m on my way home now.
Me: Wish I weren’t.
Seth: Must have been a hell of a weekend. I’m happy for you.
Seth: Want to have dinner or are you working?
My pulse quickens as I type what I’ve been thinking about doing for the last few hours.
Me: Actually, I think I’m going to start boxing up Harvey’s things.
Guilt tiptoes in. I take a deep breath, knowing I’m doing the right thing.
I want to make room for Wells in my life, and I have to be honest with myself.
Seeing Harvey’s things around the apartment doesn’t bring the same comfort it once did, and it leaves me in a constant struggle of not wanting to betray Harvey, not wanting to neglect myself anymore, and more recently, not wanting to neglect Wells.
Seth: Want me to come help? I’ll bring my friend Whiskey or his buddy Tequila.
Me: I love you for offering, but I think I have to do this myself.
Seth: Okay. I’m proud of you, sis. Call if you need me.
Me: I will.
My nerves are still pinging when the driver pulls up in front of my building, and Ivan opens the car door. “Good afternoon, Ms. Braden,” he says with the same professional kindness as usual as I step out of the car.
“Hi, Ivan.” As I head for the entrance, I try to remember when the last time was that I asked him about his family and realize grief has overshadowed this part of my life, too.
The thought stops me in my tracks. Ivan used to show me pictures of his grandbabies and share stories about his wife and son, and I loved hearing about them.
It’s time to reclaim this piece of myself, too. I turn back to the man who has selflessly opened doors and held umbrellas for me more times than I can count. “How are you , Ivan?”
“I’m doing well, thank you for asking. And you? It’s been nice seeing you smiling lately.”
The fact that he noticed makes me realize just how far I’d fallen.
“I’m sorry it’s been so long since I’ve taken the time to talk.
” I borrow a phrase from Margot that perfectly suits the last several years of my life.
“I got lost for a while after losing Harvey, but it feels good to be smiling again.”
“We all miss Mr. Bauer,” he says somberly. “He was a good man.”
“Yes, he was.” Ivan and I haven’t talked about Harvey since he shared his condolences shortly after he died. I’m relieved that it no longer hurts to talk about him and to discover it feels good to talk about him without being swamped with guilt. “How are Joan and your grandchildren?”
“Joan is still putting up with me. I’m grateful for that, and the boys are a joy. Kenny just started third grade, and he’s exactly like his dad. All about the books. Matty is in first grade, and he is already telling his teacher everything she’s doing wrong.”
“It’s good to keep teachers on their toes.”
Beaming with pride, he says, “Would you like to see a picture of them?”
“I’d love to.”
He pulls out his phone, and as he scrolls through pictures of two adorable boys flashing overzealous grins at the camera, he tells me about his last visit with them, and then he fills me in on highlights from the last few years with his wife and son.
Catching up on his family brings me so much joy, and I can see he loves sharing it with me, too.
I silently promise never to let time slip by like that again. “You are very blessed, Ivan. I look forward to hearing how the boys do in school.”
“You know I look forward to telling you,” he says warmly, and opens the door to the building for me. “Have a wonderful evening, and keep sharing that smile.”
“Yes, sir.”
When I get up to my apartment, it feels like I’ve been gone for weeks. I put the duffel bag on the couch, unsettled by the silence. I swear it’s been magnifying for weeks. It’s always worse after Wells and I spend time together, but this time it feels as different as I do.
I look around at the luxurious furniture and expensive artwork, everything meticulously in its place.
Maybe it’s the guilt of what I’m about to do, but I feel like I’m seeing my home through new eyes.
When I moved in, Harvey said I could decorate however I wanted, but I didn’t want to change a thing.
I liked being in his space with his things.
Even though it wasn’t my style, it all felt right at the time, and it became ours.
After he died, apart from his business, his personal belongings were all I had left of him.
I needed to swim in that sea in order to survive, but now it feels like a shrine to what we had.
I glance at our wedding picture on the mantel, at Harvey’s awards on the shelves, and his candy dish beside the couch.
My chest constricts at the thought of boxing those things up, but thankfully, it no longer has the power to pull me under.
These last few weeks have breathed new life into me. It’s time to breathe new life into this place, too. Tears threaten, but they remain at bay as I open the door to the terrace and fresh air rolls in. I turn on music and then I head to the storage closet for boxes and packing supplies.
Kneeling on the floor of Harvey’s walk-in closet, I tape the third box closed.
Evening light spills through the bedroom windows, casting shadows across the hardwood floors outside the closet.
For all my confidence about doing the right thing, it took a herculean effort to go through his drawers.
I lingered on every item, knowing it would be the last time I’d see them.
Memories played out in my mind like favorite movie clips as I carefully wrapped his cologne bottles, the silver tray where he laid his wallet and money clip each night, and his many cuff links and watches.
As I folded his soft, worn T-shirts, the sweatpants he hated, and the jeans he loved, each one brought more memories, more smiles, and more tears.
My heart physically hurts. I can’t imagine how hard it would have been if I’d tried to do this five years ago. Maybe I should have let Seth come over one of the three times he texted to check on me. But it wouldn’t have helped.
I snag another Hershey’s Kiss from my newly appointed emotional-support candy dish and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
My eyes are puffy and red rimmed, my nose is pink, and the twist I’d clipped my hair into is lopsided with wayward strands sticking out.
I look like I feel. Like I’m packing away a little piece of myself with every item.
It’s only fitting.
I’m tempted to stop going through his things, but I know it’ll just be harder to start again.
I drag an empty box over to the sweaters and run my hand along the buttery soft cashmere and lambswool.
Harvey’s favorite clothing indulgence. I take a well-loved sweater off the shelf and rub it against my cheek.
I press the sweater to my face, inhaling the faint, stubborn scent of his cologne, wanting to make it a part of me.
Tears burn, and I force myself to fold the sweater and put it in the box.
As I turn back to the shelves, my gaze lingers on Harvey’s suits, hanging like lonely ghosts, holding his shape.
I touch the sleeves, remembering how I used to tease him about having more suits than I had shoes.
His deep voice saunters through my mind.
I’ve got to look sharp standing next to you. And just like that I’m crying again.
I pick up the sleeve of his Saturday sport coat, which I lovingly called his old-man jacket, and run my fingers along the worn brown corduroy and over the faded suede elbow pads.
Harvey used to say they were there so he could lean his elbow on the table and rest his chin in his palm as he stared at me.
I close my eyes against the tears slipping from them, and I rub the suede along my cheek.
When I open my eyes, my gaze lands on the garment bag hanging at the far side of the rack.
My pulse quickens as I push the other suits away from it and unzip it, revealing the tuxedo he wore to the Billboard Power 100 award ceremony a few months before he died.
He received an award as one of the most influential and powerful people in the music industry.
I was so proud of him, and he acted like it was no big deal.
But that was Harvey. He thought the awards should go to the musicians, because without them, he’d just be another music lover.
Oh, Harvey. I’m so sorry . Tears spill down my cheeks as I take the tuxedo out of the garment bag and run my hands along the shoulders. I slip the jacket off the hanger and put it on, drawing a rush of tears. I wrap my arms around myself and close my eyes as that night comes rushing back.
Harvey was so handsome and distinguished as he crossed the stage.
His acceptance speech was short and gracious, speaking of immense gratitude and teamwork and paying homage to talented musicians and agents.
Then he looked right at me for so long, everyone in the room turned to see who had caught the magnificent man’s attention.
I’ll never forget the way his smile broadened and his eyes warmed as he stood on that stage in front of our industry’s most influential people, all waiting with bated breath for him to say something.
But my husband wasn’t loud or flashy, and he didn’t need to proclaim anything on my behalf.
He knew I could feel his love and appreciation from a million miles away, just as I knew he felt mine.
I close my eyes, and Harvey’s face blooms to life behind my closed lids.
My heart lifts. I see him as clear as day, his warm smile drawing me in like a tide and his loving dark eyes looking at me just as he had that night, mouthing, I love you , breaking the dam.
Sobs erupt from my chest in unrelenting waves, and a painful wail sends me to the floor, a sobbing, gasping mess, clutching his jacket around me like a lifeline, hoping he’ll forgive me for finally letting go.
I don’t know how long I wept or when I started scarfing down Hershey’s Kisses by the handful, but at some point my sobs abated to sporadic tears, and my closet floor is now covered in foil wrappers and paper plumes.
I dig through them in search of one more piece of chocolate to soothe the ache in my chest and spot one between the boxes.
Crawling over to it with the desperation of a substance abuser needing one last hit, I feverishly tear off the wrapper and shove the sweet treat into my mouth.
My doorbell chimes, and I sigh heavily. Seth . I know my brother means well, but the only person I want to see right now is on Silver Island, and it wouldn’t be fair to put him through this anyway. Why does that bring more tears? The doorbell chimes again.
Wiping my eyes, I reluctantly get up. Wrappers crunch under my bare feet as I head out of the closet and trudge to the front door, complaining as I pull it open, “Seth, I told you I was fi—” I stop short, startled out of my weepy fog.
My voice shakes with disbelief as I say, “ Wells. What are you doing here?”
His face is a mask of worry. “I’m sorry.
I know you aren’t ready for me to be here, but you haven’t returned my texts, and I realized after our amazing weekend together that you were coming back to the home that set you off about us in the first place.
I couldn’t stand the idea of it being too much for you.
” His gaze sweeps over me, and I can practically feel his heart hurting as he takes in Harvey’s tuxedo jacket, my tear-streaked face, and the rest of the mess that is me .
“And by the looks of you, I was right to worry.”
He pulls me into his arms and says, holding me tight, “I’m not letting you make the same mistake again. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
Fresh tears fall as I melt into him. “I’m not upset because of us , and I’m not trying to get rid of you. I started packing up Harvey’s things so I can finally move forward. It’s just hard .” My voice cracks, and his arms tighten around me.
“ Vic , why didn’t you tell me? I would have been here with you. There’s no rush, baby. Leave the candy dish by the sofa. When I take a piece, I’ll throw a thank-you up to Harvey.”
I smile against his chest at his thoughtfulness.
He cradles my face in his hands, a touch as familiar as his tender tone.
“I don’t want to erase Harvey from your life or your heart.
He helped you become the woman you are, and I love who you are.
I love all of you, including your desire to preserve what you had with him, because you love with everything you have, and I know you would do the same for us. ”
My heart is so full, emotions clog my throat, bringing more tears.
“If it’s too hard for you to be with me here, we can stay in hotels for as long as you need. I just want to be with you, babe. I don’t care where we are, as long as you feel good about being with me.”
“And that’s why I love you, too,” I say. “But it’s time. I want to do this. It’s holding me back in every aspect of my life, not just with you. With my family, at work, and even how I act around other people. I’m ready to come out from my penance and spread my wings.”
“Then how about we do it together?”