Layla – Present #2
The carpet has an ugly red pattern, dotted with large golden swirls every few inches. It looks like it hasn’t been changed since at least the seventies. A board sits off to the side, with a piece of paper taped to it that reads: Ben Matthews Funeral, Hudson Suite.
I continue my walk down the hallway. The textured wallpaper has been painted several times over and is starting to peel away in places. It’s a darker yellow than the outside of the building, like they used to smoke in here.
The door to the Hudson Suite is wedged open with a chair. I can already hear the loud chatter in the hallway.
My therapist used to tell me that when I feel overwhelmed, I should try to ground myself by counting: five things I can see, four I can touch, three I can hear, two I can smell, and one I can taste.
I square my shoulders and take a deep breath, counting the red carpet, the flaking yellow wallpaper, the ceiling fans, a woman with a cleaning cart, and an old picture of the building hung up on the wall opposite me.
I let out a breath, then touch the fabric of Ben’s jacket, twirling my wedding band around my ring finger, before touching my earlobe with the earrings he gave me for my birthday. Lastly, I tap the wall behind me.
Laughter coming from the Hudson Suite doesn’t settle my nerves much.
The squeak of the cleaning cart’s wheel as it’s pushed past me doesn’t help any more than the loud whirl of the ceiling fan above.
I breathe deeply. The smell of something sour wrinkles my nose before I bury it in Ben’s hoodie and cherish the woodsy scent of his favorite aftershave, still lingering in the fabric.
I’m down to my last one, taste. The coffee I had this morning isn’t the best thing to note, but it’s all I have.
I pull the sleeves of the hoodie over my hands and enter the room. I’ve never felt more alone.
In the center of the room, there’s a large oak floor meant for dancing, for celebrating.
I suppose that’s the whole point of this part.
Finding some sort of comfort in not being alone in our grief.
But none of them have to go home without him.They won’t miss his morning kisses, or the way he’d smile mid-argument and make me break, or how he’d wake me in the middle of the night just because he wanted to talk to me.
They won’t miss any of it. They’ll get on with their lives and their grocery shopping, and their anniversaries, and they won’t think about Ben as much anymore, until he’s barely even a memory.
I can’t find any sort of comfort in that.
I glance around at the faces, too busy in their conversations to notice me.
Then I catch Clark’s eye. Maybe not everyone will go back to their unchanged lives.
I can see the pain in his expression, even as he smiles at Georgia and JJ.
And I know Ben would want me to be there for him too, but I can’t.
I avoid Clark and the other members of Ben’s football team and head for the sandwiches I couldn’t afford but was too embarrassed to ask to leave out. I don’t even feel like eating.
Ben’s mom picks up a plate beside me and starts filling it.
“I thought you would have picked somewhere more fitting for the reception, Layla.”
Something inside me snaps.
“Excuse me?” My voice is loud enough to draw attention from those around us.
Gloria lifts another sandwich onto her plate. “I know the amount of money you got from the team. He deserved a little more than a rent-by-the-hour hotel.”
“It’s not a rent-by-the-hour hotel, and that money is none of your business.”
She scoffs. “I think it is my business. At the very least, you could have offered me something, Layla. You were only married for two months. I’m grieving my son. You have no idea what I’m going through. And on top of it all, I had to pay for flights out here. They aren’t exactly cheap.”
She continues before I can speak.
“Ben would have expected you to look after me. He’d be disappointed that you haven’t even offered.”
I spot Clark making his way toward us.
“You have no idea what Ben would have wanted.”
She laughs. “Right. And you think you do?” She places another sandwich on her plate.
“I’ve seen enough of my son’s girlfriends to know when it’s nothing more than a fling.
” She clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth.
“I’d have given it another month, and he’d be bored of you.
If he had been serious about you, he would’ve invited me to your wedding. ”
“Gloria.” Clark clears his throat.
She gives him a forced smile. “Look at the state of this place. I’d have given him something much better than this. I mean, come on, cheese and ham sandwiches? For the quarterback of the Guardians?”
I hate that her words sting. I hate that I’ve even given her this much time of day.
I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from crying and look down at my hands.
“I think that’s enough,” Clark says. “Layla’s done what she can, and Ben wouldn’t have cared about any of this, anyway.”
I wipe away the stupid tear that’s fallen down my cheek and grab hold of Gloria’s plate of sandwiches.
“I think you should leave,” I tell her. “And you can’t have these.” I pull the plate from her hand. “I paid for them.”
Clark places a hand on my arm and slowly nudges me away from her.
“You heard her. It’s time for you to leave.” He keeps guiding me toward the door. It takes everything in me not to scream I hate you at her as I’m leaving. I should have said something back to her. I should have stood up for myself.
I slump down into a white plastic chair at the back of the hotel, overlooking the parking lot. When I look up at Clark, he smirks at me, then glances at the paper plate of sandwiches sitting on the table in front of me.
“Do you want me to have them wrap up the rest of the sandwiches?” he asks. “Or is it only Gloria who’s not allowed to eat them?”
His grin stretches wide across his face.
“Stop smiling like that.”
“I’m sorry.” He laughs. “I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t stand that woman. Seeing her face drop when you told her to leave, that’s the only good thing that’s happened today.”
I lower my gaze to my hands in my lap. Clark crouches down in front of me.
“Layla, did you hear me?”
I snap my head up. “What?”
He gives me a sad half smile, half frown. “Do you want me to take you home?”
I shake my head. “I drove Ben’s car here.”
“I can drive you back in it. I’ll ask Georgia to follow in mine.”
“No, it’s too much hassle, Clark. I’ll be fine.”
“It’s no hassle, Layla.”
“But you and Georgia will need to get home.”
“Georgia and I don’t need to go anywhere.” He sighs. “Please just let me drive you home safe.”
I wipe my tears with the sleeve of Ben’s jacket and nod. Clark rests a hand gently on my shoulder.
“Give me five minutes, and I’ll meet you out here, okay?”
“Okay.”
I lean back in the chair. There’s a man a table over from mine, smoking something my brother would approve of.
I rest my head in my hands, my elbows on the table; my head aches.
Gloria was right; I should have booked somewhere more upscale.
But after the funeral, I have barely any savings left.
I haven’t been in contact with my boss. I’m not even sure when I’m going back.
I need a plan. I know I do. But that just makes my head hurt more.
Clark returns carrying four large silver platters of sandwiches.
“Got the goods. Now where are your keys?”
I dig into my pocket and toss him the keys.
I don’t tell him I don’t actually want the sandwiches.
He opens my door, the way Ben used to, and when he closes it to walk around to the driver’s side, I can’t keep my emotions in check.
I curl my knees up to my chest and lean my head against the window, my shoulders shaking.
Clark sets the platters in the backseat, then slides into the driver’s seat. He doesn’t say anything until we pull into the apartment complex. The parking lot is underground, and the lights above us glow a bright, sterile white.
“Do you want me to carry the sandwiches up?”
“No, it’s okay. I can manage on my own.”
I open the door and grab the platters from the backseat. I hear Clark’s door close too. When I walk around the front of the car, he’s waiting for me.
“I’m here, Layla. If you need me, you know that, right? Please don’t lock yourself up in there, okay?”
He hands me Ben’s keys.
I glance over at Georgia, waiting in Clark’s car. She gives me a timid wave. I nod to Clark. He clenches his jaw, then looks up at the lights overhead.
“You know, he would have been really proud of you today.”
Tears fall as I bite my lip.
And I’m not the only one crying.
“He would’ve been proud of you too, Clark.”