Chapter 12
Twelve
Hallie
I’m on the deck, stretched out on the sofa, staring up at the stars, contemplating life and loss and the vagaries of both, when my partner, Robin, comes out with bourbon for me and wine for her.
That she understands I need the hard stuff tonight is one of many ways she’s perfect for me.
She lives with me when her kids are with their dad, and we look forward to the time alone together.
I take the glass from her and sit up a little to take a sip. “Thank you, hon.” She’s tall, blonde and so pretty she takes my breath away, especially when she smiles.
“How’re you doing?”
I’ve been spiraling since Joy called with the news about Taylor’s husband. I don’t know her very well and met Will only once, but the news of his death—so close to their baby’s arrival—has left me breathless. “I’m… you know… unsettled.”
More unsettled than usual, I should say. Robin has stage-four breast cancer, which is currently stable, but the unknown has been hard to manage for me after losing my wife, Gwen, to suicide.
“Have you heard from Iris?”
“She texted to say that Taylor and the kids are doing as well as can be expected. I guess she and Gage were with Taylor last night and most of today.”
“They’re good souls, those two.”
“They really are. Always there for all of us.” I swish the bourbon around in the glass.
“I can’t stop thinking about Taylor and what she must be feeling.
The few times I’ve met her, she seemed so happy and settled.
She’d left widow life far behind, not that she didn’t still grieve for the husband she lost to brain cancer, because she did for sure.
But she didn’t dwell in Widowville with the rest of us. ”
“Widowville,” she says with a chuckle.
“It’s a town populated by people who get what it’s like to lose a spouse and, in our case, a young spouse who dies far too soon. Iris and Gage are the mayors of Widowville.”
“I’m comforted to know they’ll be there for you when you need them again.”
I glance at her, surprised to hear her say that, because we try to never talk about where this situationship, as we refer to it, is heading.
I like to think that it’ll be years before I have to think about losing her, but we honestly have no idea how much time we’ll have.
And yes, I know how crazy I am to be involved with someone staring down a fatal illness, but the reward of spending this time with her has been worth the risks.
Or so I tell myself until something like Taylor’s loss happens to remind me of what’s ahead. I try my best not to think about losing Robin. I’m focused much more on enjoying every minute we have together.
“I’m sorry to be such a drag tonight.”
“Please don’t apologize. Of course this news upset you. It upset me, and I don’t know them at all.”
“I just keep thinking about how much her kids loved Will and how they have a new baby due soon. It just boggles my mind that this could’ve happened to them.”
“I know. It’s terrible.”
“The good news, I guess, is that there’re resources available to her that she didn’t have the last time. Thanks to her and Iris and Christy, she’ll have the Wild Widows to fall back on.”
“You guys will get her through it.”
“We’ll do our best. Joy said this has her questioning everything.”
“Is she still seeing that guy? What is his name?”
“Bernie. Yes, and as far as I know, it’s been going well, but she said she’s tempted to never leave the house again.”
“Which she knows is no way to live.”
“She said that, but the temptation is real.”
“For you, too?”
I glance her way to find her watching me in that all-seeing way that’s usually a source of comfort to me. Tonight, I fear she sees too much. “Nah.”
“Liar,” she says with a chuckle.
“I don’t want to feel that way.”
“But you can’t help wanting to run and hide, especially in light of our situation.”
“Something like that.”
“It’s okay, Hal. Don’t feel like you have to dodge me on the hard stuff. I’m here for all of it.”
I reach for her hand and am immediately comforted by her touch. “I can’t bear to think of a time when you won’t be here.”
“Likewise. I mean, it’s unlikely, but I could lose you before you lose me.”
I make a face at her.
She laughs. “What? It’s true. Look at what happened to Will. Leaving the house can be dangerous.”
“Luckily, I don’t work on scaffolding.”
“We’re all thankful for that.”
I’m a well-documented Calamity Jane who’d have no business working anywhere that involves high places. “I keep thinking about what he thought of as he was falling, probably knowing he was going to die.”
“I’m sure his every thought was for Taylor and the children.”
“Definitely.”
“Will you do something for me as you process this terrible tragedy?”
“Yes, of course. What do you want me to do?”
“Talk to me about it. Don’t curl up in a ball and try to muscle through it. That doesn’t work, and it’s apt to make everything so much worse.”
“I promise I’ll talk to you about it, but I may not have much to say.”
“That’s fine, too, as long as you don’t bury it and think it’ll go away, because it won’t. It’ll just fester.”
“I know,” I say with a sigh. “Sadly, this is far too familiar to me. Thinking about what Taylor is going through brings it all back with Gwen. The initial shock, those first few days, the people, the food, the disbelief. I haven’t taken a trip down that memory lane in a while.”
“I’m sorry you’re hurting all over again.”
“I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me.”
“I can’t help it. I love you, and I hate to see you suffering.”
“Is it weird to be suffering over someone I hardly know?”
“You understand what she’s going through, and that’s why you’re suffering. You know how hard she worked to get to where she was with Will, only to be put back to day one as a widow.”
“That’s it exactly. You’re good at this.”
“At what?” she asks with a laugh.
“Getting to the heart of the matter and making me feel better about being grief-stricken for the friend of a friend.”
“She’s a fellow traveler. That’s who you’re grief-stricken for.”
“I hope she comes back to the group.”
“She may decide that was too much a part of her first time around and want something different now.”
“Maybe, but I still hope we can help her somehow.”
“I admire how that’s always your first thought: ‘How can I help?’”
“Our whole group is like that. It’s what we do.”
“It’s a beautiful thing, but at a time like this, you need to be keeping an eye on your own well-being while you reach out to others.”
“I hear you, and I’ll be okay. I promise. This was tough news today. I needed a minute to process it. I’m sorry it cut into our time together.”
“You’re not apologizing for being upset, remember?
” She slides closer to me and puts her arms around me, bringing my head to rest against her.
“One of the things I love best about you is how deeply you care about the people in your life. You cared so much for Gwen that you still mourn her all these years later. You care so much for your widows, even the ones you don’t know well, that their hurts become yours. ”
“It sounds more like an illness than a positive quality.”
“Hush,” she says with a chuckle. “Your big heart is your best quality, and I hope you never change. But…”
“There’s always a but.”
“Not always, but there is this time. I want you to be careful with that big heart. You feel so much for Taylor, but you’re not obligated to show up for her, even though I’m sure you will.”
“How can I not?”
“You can. Of course you can, but don’t take on her grief and make it your own. You’re already dealing with enough of your own—and that includes the anticipatory grief that comes from knowing you’re probably going to lose me sooner than we’d both like.”
“Shut up with that. You’re not going anywhere.”
“Hallie.”
“Robin.” I raise my head off her shoulder and look her in the eyes. “Shut. Up.”
“Fine, but I hope you heard the rest of what I said.”
“I heard it, and I appreciate it. You’re right, as usual.
I want to bring in the cavalry to help Taylor, but that’s not my job in this situation.
I’ll be there for her in any way that I can, but I won’t lose my mind over it.
I promise.” I stroke the back of her hand, marveling as I do every day over the softest skin I’ve ever touched. “Thank you for caring.”
“You’re easy to care about, and I can’t bear to see you suffer.”
Her deep sigh says what I don’t want to hear—that someday, I’ll probably suffer deeply over her, but she’s worth it. Every minute with her is a gift.
I give her hand a light tug. “Let’s go to bed.”
Joy
Today has been a day—and a half. I’m absolutely crushed for Taylor and her kids. And for poor Will, who was such a good guy. The way he stepped up for her and those babies endeared him to all of us who knew Taylor before she met him.
We’re in bed watching a movie, but I lost the plot an hour ago and can’t be bothered with catching up. The raw feeling I’ve carried around since Christy called with the news reminds me so much of the day I woke up to realize my husband, Craig, had died in his sleep.
That still ranks as the most shocking moment of my life.
He’d been fine the night before when we had dinner with friends, went to bed, made love and fell asleep.
Only one of us woke up the next morning.
Two autopsies were “inconclusive,” and his death was determined to be “natural causes.” Whatever the hell that means.
I can very easily put myself in Taylor’s position after the sudden loss of someone irreplaceable, and dwelling in that space for hours has made a wreck of me.
“That was awesome,” Bernie says when the movie ends. “I loved it. What did you think?”
“It was good.”
“You didn’t hear a word of it, Joyful.”