Chapter Nineteen
You deserve that kind of love too.
Her own words continued to echo through Mo’s mind as she watched Aspen hammer in the final nail.
Before Mo could backtrack the implication, Aspen met her eyes, allowing her to see the eager glint.
Aspen raised a single finger to her mouth before theatrically displaying the tree to Mo, Vanna White style.
“Annie’s waiting,” Aspen exclaimed, her voice soft and joyful.
“Thanks,” Mo replied, implicit words weighing down her tongue.
Aspen only nodded, turning to trot quickly down to the bank.
Mo wanted to yell after her to stop. To stay.
But the words stuck in her throat, so she just turned to look at the tree, the nails waiting patiently for her to hang the phone on them.
Mo balanced the phone against her chest as she rotated it, wanting to mount it properly.
She moved in closer to the tree, leaning her cheek against the rough bark as she delicately slid the back of the phone onto the nails.
With a downward thrust of her palm, Mo secured the phone to the tree.
She then backed up a few steps, letting her eyes take in the sight of the bright-orange phone hanging perfectly in the center of the trunk. Like it has always been there.
Like it would always be there.
“All right,” Mo mumbled, resisting the urge to turn and look for Aspen. “I guess it’s time.”
She didn’t move, though. Instead, Mo’s mind went blank, her eyes firmly on the receiver.
She wanted to ask Aspen what to do next.
To have Aspen stand with her as she made the call.
But this was a moment only for her, even if a part of Mo wanted it to be their moment.
She took a deep breath, then stepped forward.
Lifting her free but weirdly heavy hand to grab the receiver, Mo cradled it gently between her cheek and shoulder, blowing anxious air from her lungs.
The lack of a dial tone was loud, and she resisted the urge to hang up.
Mo stuck a finger from her good hand into the rotary slot labeled with a slightly worn number one.
Adjusting the way she was cradling the phone slightly, she pulled it down to the phone’s metal stop with a rattle.
The rotary slid back to its original position with a slight thunk, so she moved to the next number, picking up speed as she entered each of Annie’s numbers.
After she was finished, Mo waited for a ring that would never come.
She chuckled before adding in the sound effects herself.
“Ring, ring,” Mo mimicked, bringing her hand back to the receiver to more comfortably hold it up to her ear. “Annie?”
Obviously her wife didn’t respond, but Mo instinctively looked up the length of the tree toward the sky.
The sheer height of the two redwoods was even more apparent from this angle.
Her head had to roll as far back as it could to see their bushy tops, making the much smaller maple pale in comparison.
But that didn’t detract from the beauty it created.
Its brevity allowed Mo a beautiful view of the sky between the two much taller canopies.
In that moment, as her eyes focused on the tiny window that the trees created, Mo swore she could hear Annie’s voice answer in the receiver.
“Yellow?” the sweet, familiar voice said in her mind, mimicking her wife’s signature way of answering the phone.
“Hey, babe. It’s me, your wife,” Mo choked out, trying her best to hold back the tide of emotion that this moment was creating.
“It’s been a while since we’ve spoken. Well, obviously, seeing as how you died.
” Mo chuckled harshly, stepping even closer to the trunk.
“Which, by the way, was very rude of you, and I feel like I am owed some sort of compensation.”
She paused, allowing Annie space to reply if she wanted to.
“I’m not calling you from the house phone.
I actually got rid of that stupid thing pretty soon after you died.
I always hated it. You knew that, though.
I will admit, it was an easy compromise.
Even when I would pick at you for never answering the damn thing.
There was one thing you were right about—giving that number out really cuts down on the telemarketing calls.
Just another thing you were smarter about than me. ”
Mo grinned at her random monologue, leaning her forehead against the base of the phone before continuing.
“Continuing after you died has been shit, but I guess I’ve made it this far. I wanted to thank you for not having any expectations of my life without you. It’s really kept me from feeling too guilty.” Mo grimaced at her words. “That was a lie. I’ve felt nothing but guilt.”
She let silence hang for a few moments, giving time for Annie to respond.
“Unfortunately, I’ve been a bit lost. I wish I had thought of talking to you before this trip, but honestly, I’ve been kind of…
selfish? Self-centered? I don’t know. Bud and Opal asked me to do this, and instead of thinking about how I could remember you, I thought I’d just make it my end.
You know, the big end. Come and see you, if that’s how the afterlife works. ”
A deep laugh rolled out of Mo at that, embarrassment following.
“I know what you’re thinking, but I—I felt guilty.
Guilty I’d never come up here with you, shared this magnificent place with you.
Guilty that I was stuck perpetually spinning my wheels.
Instead, deciding to damage it and your memory with the easy way out.
” Mo stopped herself, leaning back to look at the phone again.
“Not the easy way, but a less fulfilling one? And I knew you would definitely be disappointed. But I couldn’t help how I felt.
Feel? You left a huge hole, Annie. And it’s one that I am only just starting to learn I don’t have to fill.
Because you aren’t truly gone. Aspen taught me that, weirdly enough. ”
Mo adjusted the phone into the cradle of her neck, her hand moving to rub at her injured shoulder.
“Aspen Anderson. The whole reason I didn’t go down the other path. Though I am sure she would say it was me. But without her pestering, I don’t know where I’d be. Probably still in my cabin, covered in dirty clothes and discarded takeout boxes. Well, maybe not…I wasn’t really eating either.”
Mo took in a deep breath, her mind mimicking the soft and all-knowing hum that Annie would have made at hearing her say such things.
She released it, tightening her grip on the phone.
“I’m sorry. I really am. I know you tell me not to apologize and just do better.
But this is an apology you actually deserve to hear.
“I think you’d love Aspen, though.” Mo moved on, her face warming at the thought of her.
“She’s strong-willed, like you. And I think she finds me just as, if not more, annoying than you did.
Oh, and she loves hiking too. Though I think she might be like an expert, expert. Like you were with singing.”
Annie’s singing voice filled Mo’s mind, and she leaned back into the phone, basking in the bliss.
“I wish she could have heard you sing live. And, I guess if I looked at the odds, you two were far more likely to meet than us.” Mo turned, glancing back down to the creek where Aspen sat calmly on a rock. “I think I might be falling in love with her, Annie.”
Tears welled up in Mo’s eyes at the revelation.
“I’m sorry about that. I don’t think I expected to ever feel that way for someone other than you…Honestly, I feel terrible about it. Even though I know you’d be far angrier if I just kept myself depressed and single.”
Mo waited silently, still hoping to hear Annie respond. It was heartbreaking to feel so close to her but be unable to hear her perspective. To know Annie’s thoughts on Aspen. On herself.
“Do you want to hear about her?”
Mo watched as Aspen slid below the rock she was sitting on, now leaning against it as she looked out over the creek.
“She’s gorgeous, like you, but different.
Her personality fills a space, giving anyone in proximity little else to do but smile.
She’s broken. But aren’t we all? I don’t know if I really should point that out when I kind of added to it.
” Mo sighed deeply before continuing, “She caught the bad end of frustrated Mo. I remember when I let it get the best of me in front of you. You let me have it, as you should’ve, and I think I felt just as bad this time around.
I picked the habit back up after you died.
Bud got the shit end too. Even though he is more used to it than all of you, he didn’t deserve it.
I’ve not been the best to anybody in a while, and while I doubt I’m healed overnight, I’ve gotta do better.
You would expect better.” Mo’s eyes closed briefly. “Aspen deserves better.
“All of this to say, I don’t think a thing with Aspen is something she wants?
I don’t know, I haven’t done this kind of thing in so long.
I’m kind of lost on how it works? I really did think my days of falling in love were only going to be filled with you.
Please don’t feel bad, though. You didn’t die on purpose.
And even if you did, I wouldn’t hold it against you.
You knew what was best for you, and I loved you. ”
Mo’s grip on the phone tightened and loosened.
“Whatever you wanted, I was willing to make it happen. But like…I hope my new feelings don’t hurt yours. I don’t think I could deal with that.”
A swell filled her throat.
“I miss you, Annie.
“I love you, Annie.”
Tears were flowing steadily now, but Mo didn’t try to fight the feelings she felt pouring out. Her gaze stayed on Aspen, even as her mind considered Annie. And as if Aspen could hear her, she swiveled her head and locked eyes with Mo.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen, but…” Mo swallowed harshly, watching as Aspen stood and stared. “I’m going to try to live without you exactly like I lived with you.”