Chapter 13
13
Tom
I’m so glad to be out of the house. I put the window down to let in some fresh late-autumn air and let the sunshine warm my face. I keep thinking about what Lexi shared about Jim falling in the shower and ending up with a concussion and hypothermia after being stuck there for three hours.
What a nightmare for both of them.
I hate that I brought that memory back to the surface for her.
But I don’t hate that I got to hold her, to comfort her, to be close to her again. God, it feels so good to hold her. She’s so soft and sweet and gorgeous. It’s all I can do not to stare at her when she’s in the same room. I never get tired of looking at her or talking to her. She does it for me. She has for as long as I’ve known about her.
It was amazing to me how feelings I had more than twenty years ago were still there the first time I saw her again. Those feelings have only grown stronger as I’ve gotten to know her. In the past, she was a dream girl, a fantasy. In the nine months that she’s lived with me, I’ve learned that the reality of her is way better than the fantasy ever could’ve been.
I love talking to her and getting her witty take on whatever subject we’re covering. She always has something interesting to say or a facial expression that makes me laugh or want to cry when her grief surges to the surface. I’d do anything to take that ache away for her, but it’s something she’ll carry with her forever because she loved Jim so much. I’d be lucky to have her love me like that, and I know it.
I direct her to Fairfax County, where my company is constructing a new office building that’s about half done and running a month behind schedule. We’ve recently ventured into a few commercial projects, and I already regret taking them on in addition to our booming home-building business. The last thing we needed was for me to go down with a heart attack at this crucial juncture. Fortunately, I have outstanding employees who are able to pick up my slack while I’m out of work. But I want to see for myself that things are progressing in my absence.
“Take the next right.”
After she makes the turn, I direct her to the site in the back corner of a large business park.
“There it is.”
“Wow. That’s huge.”
“Six stories.”
“I can’t believe you know how to build something like that.”
“It’s not that hard once you figure out the basics.”
I direct her to park outside the trailer that serves as our on-site office and then text my foreman Ryan to come out.
With a hard hat tucked under his arm, he comes out of the office and down the stairs, smiling as he approaches the passenger side of Lexi’s car. “Hey, boss. Good to see you out and about.”
“Good to be seen.”
“How’re you feeling?”
“I’m still fine from when you asked me that three hours ago.”
Ryan, who’s tall, muscular and in his early thirties, grins. “Sorry. You gave us a scare, man.”
“It’s all good. This is my friend Lexi. Lex, this is Ryan, one of our foremen.”
Ryan bends at the waist so he can see her in the driver’s seat. “Nice to meet you.”
“You, too.”
“Things are looking good here,” I tell him.
“Much better than a week ago.”
“Thanks for taking on more than your share. I appreciate it.”
“No problem at all. I’ll keep you posted.”
“Thanks, man.”
Ryan waves as he walks toward the building under construction.
“So I thought you did homes. Thus the name Hammett Homes.”
“Ninety percent of our business is houses, but we’ve taken on some commercial projects in recent years. I’ve been thinking about getting out of that sector, though. It’s nonstop challenges from start to finish. I’ve grown to hate it.”
“Then you should quit doing it. Maybe that’s why your heart revolted.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me. The stress level on this one has been off the charts.”
“That’s not good for you.”
“I know, and I’d been thinking about making some changes before the ticker incident. I have this one and two others in the works. After that, I’m stepping away from the commercial sector.”
“Sounds like the right call.”
“It is. I don’t enjoy it the way I do the home building. That’s much more fun, working with clients to pick out all the finishes to create their dream house.”
“That would be fun. I love watching design shows and mulling over what I’d choose from among the various options. Most of the time, I wouldn’t go with any of the things those designers like.”
“I’m not much good with making those choices, but we have an awesome design team that walks our clients through the process.”
“That would be a dream job.”
He glances over at me. “They’re always looking for help in that department if you’re interested.”
“What? No. I couldn’t do something like that. I have zero training or skills.”
“They would train the right person.”
“I’m not the right person. I’ve never done anything like that in my life.”
“But you know what you like, right?”
“I do, but I’d have no idea how to advise someone else on what they want.”
“That’s the thing. Most of them are looking for someone else’s opinion to get them started, and then they take it from there.”
“I’m sure the professional designers would be thrilled to have someone who knows nothing about their field working with them.”
“You could have a conversation with them. That wouldn’t hurt anything.”
“I get what you’re trying to do, Tom, and I appreciate it. But they’d hate having to hire the boss’s friend.”
“I still say it’s worth a conversation.”
“And I still say thank you for caring, but no. I’m not doing that. I’ll find something that works for me, and this time, I won’t settle for the first thing that comes along. Now that I know how soul-crushing it is to be in the wrong job, I’m going to hold out for the right fit.”
“That’s the way to be.”
“After Jim died, I was so frantic about the enormous debt that I took the first job I was offered. I’ve learned since then that debt isn’t going anywhere, so it doesn’t matter if it takes a minute to find a fulfilling job rather than one that simply pays the bills.”
“I’m sorry you were left with that burden. I’m not sure if I’ve ever said how much I admire what you did for him.”
“Don’t make me the hero of that story. He was. I did what anyone would do for someone they loved.”
“Not anyone. I know people who put ill relatives in facilities the first second it gets to be too much for them. Hell, we did that with my mom when she started showing signs of dementia. None of us could give her the care—and supervision—she needed because of work and family demands. We felt sick about it but needed her to be safe.”
“I’ve learned that people generally do the best they can in situations like that. You did the right thing for your mom, even if it felt terrible.”
“Moving her in there was the second-worst day of my life. She was still cognizant enough to realize what was happening, and she begged us not to leave her there. It was horrible. All we could think of was how much she’d done for us after our dad died. She worked two jobs so we could have everything we needed, and now we were putting her in a home. I can’t even think about that day without wanting to wail.”
When we’re stopped at a light, Lexi looks over at me and puts her hand on top of mine. “I’m so sorry you had to do that, but you know it was the right thing, don’t you?”
“Yeah, but that didn’t make it any less hellish at the time. She declined very rapidly after that and doesn’t know us anymore, which is a blessing in light of recent events. Hearing I’d had a heart attack would devastate her after losing my dad that way.”
She looks back at the road but keeps holding my hand. “She probably would’ve declined rapidly no matter where she was.”
“We’ll never know that for sure.”
“I’m sure the mother who loved you so much wouldn’t want you to feel guilty for doing what you felt was right for her at the time.”
“She wouldn’t, but I can’t help feeling that way. My sisters do, too. We felt like monsters, even as we made sure she got the best care money could buy.”
“Where does she live?”
“In Herndon.”
“Do you want to go see her?”
“Like, now?”
“I’m not doing anything. Are you?”
“It’s okay, Lex. We don’t have to do that.”
“I honestly don’t mind. I’d love to meet her and for you to have the chance to see her, if you’d like to, that is.”
“It’s never easy to see her.”
“I understand. Whatever you want to do is fine with me.”
I think about it for a second, weighing whether I have the emotional energy to see my mother today. I don’t, but then again, I never do. “I think I’d like that, if you’re sure you’re up for it.”
“I’m up for it. Show me the way.”
Lexi
In truth, I’m nervous about seeing Tom’s mom, but I’d never say so to him. I want him to have the opportunity to see her, especially after what he’s been through in the last week. But I can feel the tension in him from the second I suggested the visit. I know all too well how difficult it is to witness the decline of a loved one, so I feel for him and his sisters. He’s mentioned before that his mom has dementia, but he doesn’t dwell on her situation, so I haven’t asked about it.
“You know,” I say to him after a long period of silence, “what you’re feeling toward your mom in her current condition is a form of grief. Even though she’s still living, you’ve lost the person she once was to you.”
“Yes, that’s true. It’s been the most difficult thing in my life. She was such a life force, and dementia has reduced her to a shell of her former self.”
“That has to be agonizing for you and your sisters.”
“It has been.”
“I’m so sorry, Tom.” I feel guilty for focusing our entire friendship on my grief without realizing he was dealing with his own—for both his parents.
“Don’t be sorry. I don’t talk about it because it’s easier not to.”
After a long pause, I say, “May I speak freely?”
“Of course. You should know that by now.”
“This is a tender topic, so I just wanted to be sure.”
“I’m here for whatever you want to say—any time.”
“Over the last few years since Jim died, I’ve delved pretty deeply into grief and how it works and how to manage it. I’ve learned so much from people who’ve been at it longer than me and have suffered greater losses than I have.”
“Every loss is a great loss.”
“True, but my friend Gage lost his wife and twin daughters to a drunk driver.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah, he’s like our Yoda. We look at him and think, if he can do it, so can we, you know?”
“I can’t imagine surviving a loss like that.”
“Neither could he until he had no choice. He posts daily thoughts on grief on Instagram, and it’s required reading for most of us.”
“I’d love to check that out.”
“I’ll send you a link. What I really want to say is that by not talking about it, you’re possibly making your journey harder than it needs to be. There are so many people out there who’d totally relate to what you and your sisters have gone through with your mom—and with losing your dad so young. I’m not saying you have to seek out strangers, but talking about it helps to make it a healthier experience, if that makes sense.”
“It does.”
“But?”
“No buts. It’s just that talking about them and what happened to them is so painful.”
“I know, but that’s kind of the point. Giving life to the pain helps to lessen it.”
“Does it really?”
“It does. Before I joined the Wild Widows, I was so deeply mired in the loss of Jim, the devastation, the injustice of it all. I couldn’t see a way out. I hated talking about him and his illness and everything we’d endured for four horribly difficult years. I’d basically locked it all away inside, and I’ve come to see that was killing me. They’ve shown me how important it is to talk about it with people who understand what you’re going through and how light can be found, even in the deepest darkness.”
“That’s really profound.”
“It took me a while to believe it could work, but I’ve seen it change people’s lives. My friend Wynter was twenty when she lost her husband to bone cancer. They’d been married for four days when he died, but together for years. She was the angriest, most bitter person you’d ever want to meet when her mom first insisted she attend our meetings. She didn’t want to be there and didn’t even try to hide that from us. But we stuck with her—and she stuck with us—and now she’s a totally different person than who she was then, even if her heart is still as broken as it ever was over the loss of her Jaden.”
“They were so young.”
“I know. She’s a trouper, though, and seriously one of the funniest people I’ve ever met. At first, I honestly thought I wasn’t going to like her because she was such a pain in the ass. Now she’s one of my favorite people ever. The night of your incident, I was coming home from visiting her in the hospital after she gave birth to her daughter with Jaden.”
“Oh wow.”
“She found out a year after he died that he’d banked sperm before his cancer treatments. He didn’t tell anyone about it. His parents found the paperwork in his things.”
“That must’ve been one hell of a surprise.”
“Totally. She was shocked and immediately intrigued by the possibility of having his child. At the same time, she was caring for our widower friend Adrian’s young son, Xavier. His wife died right after she gave birth to Xavier. Now Wynter and Adrian are together and raising each other’s children as a family.”
“That’s amazing. I’m so happy for them. They were part of your moving crew, right?”
“They were all there that day. They’re the best friends I’ve ever had, and I think each of them would say the same. We love our other friends, but our widow friends… They’re the ones who put us back together, you know?”
“I can see that. I’m so glad you have each other.”
“So am I. I can’t imagine where I’d be without them and their courage or optimism. You can’t be around them for long without being inspired by their stories.”
“Before I connected with you, I never once gave a thought to the young-widow experience.”
“Why would you? Most people are lucky to not know any young widows.”
“One of my college friends lost his wife a few years ago to breast cancer. They had two little kids.”
“How’s he doing?”
“I’m not sure. I haven’t seen him since her funeral.”
“You should reach out to him. I’m sure he’d love to hear from you.”
“He wouldn’t think I’m an asshole for not reaching out before now?”
“Probably not. If I had to guess, he’d appreciate that you’re thinking of him and wanted to check in. People tend to run away from disaster, which can be a lonely proposition for the people left behind. Jim and I had so many friends before he got sick. When things got really bad, we found out who among them were our true friends. Many of them disappeared, never to be seen or heard from again.”
“That’s lame.”
“It is, but I get it. People can’t handle it. They see something horrifying happening to someone and run from it out of fear of it happening to them.”
“I’m sorry that happened with your friends.”
“I was so bitter about it until my widows said the same thing happened to them and explained why. When people don’t know what to do, often they do nothing.”
“I’ve been guilty of that with my friend, but you’re right that I should reach out to him, and I will.”
“And you’ll talk about your own grief? It doesn’t have to be with me, but you should talk about it with someone. It’s not healthy to keep it all bottled up inside.”
“Would you mind if I talked about it with you? That wouldn’t make your own grief harder to handle, would it?”
“Nah, it’d be fine. Sharing the common experience can help to lighten the load for both of us.”
“I’ve found it so difficult to talk about what happened to either of them. When my dad first died, my mom tried to get us into therapy, but none of us was willing. We couldn’t conceive of talking to a stranger about him. With hindsight, I wish she’d made us.”
“It was a different time. People didn’t talk about grief the way they do now.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
“It’s never too late to air it out, Tom. You’ve been carrying it around for a long time.”
“For sure. Can I tell you something strange?”
“Sure.”
“A few days after my heart attack, I remembered something that must’ve happened when I was out of it.”
“Okay…”
“He was there. My dad.”
“What?”
“While I was in the hospital, I woke up in the middle of the night with the memory of how I’d seen him and how it only could’ve happened when I was out of it. I know it sounds crazy, but he was there.”
“Wow. Did he say anything?”
“He told me to go home, that it wasn’t time yet.”
“Tom. Oh my God.”
“I’ve been afraid to say anything about it because it sounds nuts—even to me.”
“What a gift, though. Are you able to see it that way?”
“Definitely, even if I was a bit spooked when I first remembered it.”
“Anyone would be. I wonder if it was really him in spirit form or if it was a dream.”
“It seemed different from a dream. I’m not sure how to describe it, but it wasn’t like a dream.”
“Will you tell your sisters?”
“I’m afraid it’ll freak them out to know how close I came to joining him.”
A huge lump settles in my throat as I realize the same thing he’s trying to protect his sisters from. “Thank goodness he sent you back,” I say when I’m able to speak again.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you that.”
“No, I’m fine, and I’m glad you told me.”
“When I’m not thinking about you and wondering when I’ll get to kiss you again, that’s all I’ve thought about since it happened.”
My entire body goes warm at the thought of kissing him again, and I wonder if he can see it in my face. I feel like I’m awakening from a long slumber. I’m tingling in places that’ve been asleep for years.
Fortunately, we arrive at his mother’s care home, and the cool fresh air helps to settle me.
As we walk inside together, his hand lands on my lower back. “I’m sorry if the flirting unsettles you. I can’t seem to help it.”
“It doesn’t unsettle me.”
“Are you sure?”
I force myself to look at his handsome face. “I’m sure.”
He stops short of the main door and turns to face me. “Then what is it?”
“I’m feeling… things… that I haven’t in a long time, and whenever that happens, it comes as a bit of a surprise to me because I’d forgotten what it was like.”
“What kind of things?”
I say the only word that comes to mind to adequately describe it. “Desire.”
He takes a step toward me. “Lexi.”
“Later.”
“No, right now.”
“Tom…”
His deep sigh says it all. “To be continued.”