Chapter 7
Chapter 7
F or Jordan, being a mother meant she mostly no longer existed. Her life was about them now. Exercise consisted of those times she could stuff both kids into a stroller and jog until one or both of them began to fuss. She hadn’t been to the dentist for a cleaning in three years. Her nails were broken to the nub and square on the ends because she had no time to file them. Makeup consisted of a moisturizing primer and tinted lip balm, and that was when she was feeling fancy. The only part of her that looked good was her hair, which Amelia had thankfully taken a personal interest in keeping alive. Her hair was colored and trimmed and styled and, in short, totally out of sync with the rest of her person.
She had no idea if this was how it was for all mothers or if it was because she was, in essence, a single mother while her husband spent so much of his life away. Or maybe she was simply bad at mothering. Maybe other women could nurse a baby all night and still make perfect little meals for their toddler that hit every nutritional high note while keeping themselves in shape, the house clean, the laundry done, and the yard weeded. Jordan couldn’t. With the advent of her first child she went from a functioning working adult to a mombie, a woman who never got enough sleep and never seemed to be able to keep up with all the things she needed to do. And now she was a widow. But there was no time to mourn her husband or grieve the life they’d lost because she still needed to be a mom. So she kept going, putting one foot in front of the other moment by moment.
The first week after Jay’s suicide was a blur of shock and trauma.
The second week, her mother and Jay’s parents went home and life began to return to some semblance of normal. And there was a bit of comfort in the routine, of once again taking the kids to story time at the library and tucking them in for naps and middle of the night feedings for Nash. She had stopped trying to wean him because this was something tangible she could do for him, some comfort she could provide, even though he didn’t know why he needed comfort.
Charlotte, who hadn’t noticed Jay’s absence, still somehow understood something was amiss. She had also been extra clingy and emotional the last couple of weeks. Jordan was glad, glad, glad for the stuffed dog Gaines bought her, the only highlight in a difficult time. She had named the dog “Wibs,” in honor of Gaines, and he went with her everywhere—to bed, to the bathroom, in the car, and even to church. Someday maybe Jordan would consider getting them a real dog, but not now, not when she was still in survival mode.
Jay’s death hurt her terribly. His suicide felt like a betrayal and condemnation. If only she had been there for him, been a better wife, maybe he wouldn’t have taken his life. That was the lie she told herself when she was weak or tired. In her waking hours, she knew it wasn’t true. He had struggled with things the last few years, things he couldn’t talk about, things he had seen and done in his job and during his time as a SEAL. Each of his buddies had urged him to seek help, but he hadn’t, wouldn’t. His Mr. Tough Guy persona had been his downfall because he hadn’t wanted to admit to any weakness, never realizing or believing that seeking the help he needed would have been the ultimate sign of strength.
Jordan was astute enough to realize it would take years to untangle all the complexity of his passing, not only for herself but for her kids. Someday she would have to explain to them Jay’s absence and his decision to take his life. It was wholly unfair and she was mad. But she loved and missed him, too. All in all it was too much. It would be easy to sink under the weight of it, but her willful stubbornness wouldn’t allow it. Someone had to parent her children and there was no one else to do it. And so she sucked it up and did what needed to be done, as she had been doing since she first married Jay and became a navy wife. In a way she had been practicing for widowhood her entire married life. Jay’s long and many absences had felt like little deaths, especially after the kids came along. And in a way that she would never admit to anyone, it was a small relief to not be in between anymore. Being a single parent when Jay was away and then reorienting her entire life when he came home had been exhausting. She was sad and she was grieving, but at least it was finally settled: Jay was gone, fully and completely. Jordan was on her own. No one was coming to save her.
And so she rebounded better and faster than anyone expected. There was some comfort in surprising people with how well she was doing. She was keeping it together and keeping up with all that needed to be done, the way she always had. Life was moving on. The kids were in their routine, and so was Jordan. The house was messier than she wanted it to be, they relied on takeout more than they should have, but they were moving on.
Two weeks after Jay died, Jordan woke with a start, wondering if she heard Nash. She sat up. In the corner of her bedroom a man stared at her, unmoving and silent. Jordan froze, terrified, and then made herself speak.
“What do you want?”
He said nothing, did nothing, remained mute and motionless.
Could she reach for her phone? Would he attack? She risked it, slowly sliding her hand to the table beside her bed. She grabbed the phone, fingers shaking and numb with fear. It said a lot about her life that in that instant she decided to call one of her husband’s friends instead of the police, but which one?
Gaines, obviously. He was the only one without a family to disturb. Her finger swiped his name until she remembered he was out of town on assignment—again, still, always.
“I’m calling 911,” she told the person in the corner, hand still hovering over her phone. He remained still, unnaturally so. Emboldened or curious, she crept out of bed, easing closer until she could make out the form in the corner—the vacuum she’d left standing, along with a broom and a hoodie she’d carelessly tossed on top.
She remained blinking at it now, shock and embarrassment mingling. She had almost panicked and called the police on a mess of her own making. Wow, Jordan. Wow. In the beginning when she was newly married and Jay was deployed, she had been terrified this same way, had imagined the boogeyman behind every strange noise in the night. Eventually she grew used to being alone in the house. The paralyzing fear hadn’t plagued her, but maybe the trauma had knocked it loose and reawakened it.
In the sink a dish clattered and she jumped, whirling in that direction with her hand on her heart.
You left dishes piled in the sink. One of them toppled, she coached herself. This is an indictment against your housekeeping skills. If you hadn’t left everything so messy, you wouldn’t be having this problem. She’d meant to clean the house today, she really had. But they’d had library day and Charlotte had dance class and then she had to run some errands, sign some legal papers with the bank. After trying to wrangle all the legalities of Jay’s passing and then making supper and then urging the kids to eat supper, she had lacked the energy to vacuum and wash the dishes. Instead she’d dragged out the kids’ tunnel, letting them zoom in and out and in and out, giggling, while she lay on the floor, letting the happy sounds of their laughter wash over her to try and erase some of the worst parts of the day.
She slipped back into bed and stared at the ceiling, not allowing her eyes to slide toward the empty space beside her. It wasn’t as if Jay had filled it that often. He had been a part time husband, and she’d made her peace with that. If he had lived to retirement, they probably would have been one of those couples who had to learn to live together fulltime. And that was what hurt the most at the moment, knowing they would never get that chance. It wasn’t the reality of what she’d lost right now that hurt so much because, in all honesty, it hadn’t been that great. She and Jay had been fighting a lot. Jay was absent more than he was home. When he was home, he had been depressed and standoffish and also in denial about how depressed and standoffish he was.
But Jordan had maintained hope that it wouldn’t always be that way. She’d been able to envision a future for them where they were back on track, back in love, getting along, able to laugh and love together. She’d pictured watching their kids grow up and sharing their milestones together—lost teeth, first days of school, graduation, marriage, becoming grandparents. Now all of that was lost. She would do those things by herself, and they would forever be tainted with the solemn realization that Jay had willingly taken himself out of the equation. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right, and it compounded her grief.
She was almost asleep again when she heard another dish tumble in the sink. Rolling her eyes at the mess, she reached for her phone and sent Gaines a text. One never knew where he was, which time zone he might be dealing with. Like Jay, she was used to the secrecy, had no real desire to know what he was doing or where. Sending a text to him now would be like firing into the void; maybe it would reach him, maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe he didn’t have his phone and wouldn’t see it until he came back. In any case she should make it ambiguous enough to not worry him. She was a well-trained navy wife, after all. She knew the drill.
Please don’t call the health department next time you see my house. The mess has become sentient.
To her surprise, he answered immediately. No worries, I’m not a mandated reporter.
I didn’t wake you, did I? she asked, biting her lip. Knowing Gaines, he would answer her back even if it was the middle of the night where he was, if only to make certain she was okay. She had been counting on the fact that he wasn’t available, otherwise she wouldn’t have bugged him.
Nope. Sleep is for the weak.
Also the non-mothers.
Are you with Nash?
No. She paused, thinking. How much of her idiocy did she want to reveal? I thought I heard him, but it wasn’t. Just some dishes in the kitchen. Apparently I stink at dish Jenga.
His answering text bubble appeared and disappeared a few times before he answered. Are you sure it was only dishes? I could send Ridge or Ethan, if you’re feeling uncertain.
She pictured Maggie or Amelia having their husbands roused to come inspect her towering dish pile and cringed. I’m sure. In case I didn’t make it clear, the house is a disaster and is starting to complain. Really need to get it in gear and clean one of these days.
Hire a maid.
I can’t do that.
Why not?
Because I’m a stay at home mom.
So?
So we don’t have maids. That’s the point of being at home, so we can do all the things.
All the things are too much right now. Hire a maid and focus on yourself and the kids. No biggie.
She squinted, trying to see the mess through the darkness. How would she feel, hiring a maid to do the work she was supposed to be doing? Could I actually do that?
Yes, you have my permission, he replied.
I’ll think about it.
Good. How are you, other than messy house that apparently talks?
I’m… She paused again. What could she say? Thriving? She wasn’t. Surviving.
I’ll be back in two days. Let’s have supper. I’ll pick something up.
I can cook, she insisted.
I know you can cook, but I don’t want you to. Jordy, stop trying to do all the things, be all the things. It’s okay to merely exist right now. Let us take care of you for a bit.
It doesn’t come easily, she admitted.
For any of us, he agreed.
She thought that was probably true. None of the guys from their group of friends was the sort who accepted help easily or liked to depend on others. She didn’t realize she felt the same until it happened to her. There was a sort of pride in being a competent Navy Wife. I can survive my husband’s long absences while holding down the fort at home. I can be ready to move on a moment’s notice, sever all ties, and relocate on a whim. I can order my life around him and his schedule, always putting my needs and desires second. I can be an active member of the military community, caring for other spouses and families while their men are away. Jordan had done it all, had dotted every i and crossed every t. And now that the shoe was on the other foot and she was failing, she realized how much unspoken pride she had taken in her position. Because now her pride was singed, her confidence dinged because, as it turned out, she couldn’t do it all. Maybe she couldn’t do any of it. She felt like she was floundering, sinking, and it was as terrifying as it was humbling.
What do you want for supper? Gaines asked, drawing her back to the present.
Surprise me, Jordan replied.
There’s my adventurous girl, he said and Jordan felt her cheeks heat embarrassingly. He hadn’t meant anything by the offhand comment, she knew. She wasn’t his girl, and she was only moderately adventurous. But it had been a long time since anyone said anything remotely encouraging or endearing to Jordan. She was hungrier and needier than she realized, and she needed to be careful. The worst thing she could do during this difficult time would be to blunder into an inappropriate crush on one of Jay’s friends. Gaines didn’t see her that way, would never see her that way, and she wasn’t at all ready for anything more than their long and casual friendship.
This time when she heard a sound, it was unmistakably Nash.
Gotta go, ask not for whom the baby wails; it wails for me, she sent.
Give the kiddos a kiss for me until I can do it in person. See you in two days.
See you, Jordan replied, setting her phone back on the stand, not allowing herself to acknowledge the flutter inside her, the one that looked forward to something for the first time in way too long. I’m lonely, she told herself, a situation that had been going on way before Jay passed. I’m susceptible, she also reminded herself, but then shook her head. If there was one person she didn’t have to worry about, it was Gaines Hillcrest. He saw her as nothing more than a pesky little sister, she was certain. And that was how she would always remain, his best friend’s wife who had somehow become a friend. They were pals, nothing more.
Nash wailed harder and with more urgency.
“Mama’s coming,” she said softly, shuddering when her voice disturbed the unnatural stillness of her bedroom.