9. Saying Goodbye
Chapter nine
Saying Goodbye
Maria
The next day…
I don’t know why I’m fussing so much over this. It’s not as if we have to be friends. But meeting Benjamin’s family, after years of keeping me a secret, makes all of this awkward and confusing. How am I even going to explain to him the relationship Ben and I had? And what if he reacts poorly?
I huff and throw another dress onto the bed.
Nothing is looking right. I want to make a good first impression, but I don’t want to come across as...
available? That’s not the right word but I can’t think of anything else that fits.
Looking too good might give the impression that I’ve already moved on and am looking for someone else “to take care of me.” But I don’t want to look frumpy either.
I should get Chelsea’s opinion on all this.
If she wasn’t currently neck-deep in taking care of her twins. It was a breath of fresh air, staying a few days with them to help out. Not being in my own home, surrounded by memories I shared with Ben... It was a good distraction for a while. Staying any longer would be imposing.
I pull out a pair of slacks and a nice blouse instead. If I can’t wear something pretty, I should at least look professional. Even if I am just a live-in nanny.
“I’m Maria. Maria Bailey.” I extend my hand in offering to the tall spitting image of the man I’ve lost.
“Oliver. Oliver Gardner. I wish I could say it’s nice to meet you, but I don’t know anything about you.”
“That’s... that’s okay. Uh...” I nod towards the front door of the hospital. “That can wait until after. Don’t let me keep you.”
“Thanks,” he replies curtly and disappears inside.
It’s been a stressful week, waiting for Oliver to return from his travels so that he can make the necessary arrangements for his father.
Meanwhile, Ben’s sitting in a cold box, forgotten and alone.
The thought of it makes me sick; worse so knowing that there’s nothing I could have done to make things any better.
I take a seat on a nearby bench, waiting for his return. It’s enough that he wanted to meet me at all; it’s going to be something else when he returns and we have to have “the conversation.”
At least today is nice. Spring is already melting into summer and that means Grace is going to be out of school soon. I wonder where she’ll want to go this year for vacation...
I’ve lost myself in my thoughts when Oliver finally returns, his lips drawn into a thin line. Obviously, he didn’t have a pleasant time inside, talking to whoever is responsible for the arrangements of his father.
“How... how did it go?” I hear myself ask. I cringe and shake my head. What kind of dumbass question is that?
“As best as can be expected,” he replies with a heavy sigh. He practically deflates before me as he sits at the end of the bench.
Then he asks the question I’ve been waiting for all day.
“Remind me again what your relationship was to my father?” Oliver turns to look at me, his immaculate shoe tapping against the sidewalk.
My chest suddenly grows tight. Hemming and hawing and dancing around the truth aren’t going to fix anything. Might as well be blunt about it.
“We were together. Boyfriend and girlfriend.” My voice squeaks at the end, and I internally chastise myself for not preparing the words in my head better.
Oliver recoils with a look of confusion.
“I’m sorry, what? Did I hear that right?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re like... twenty-something. My father was double that.”
“I’m very aware.” My brows knit together in confusion. Is he acting like I don’t know how old Ben was?
Oliver sits back against the bench and looks up at the sky in thought. I don’t know why I’m so angry about all this. I expected him to be the angry one.
“To be honest, I didn’t even know my father was seeing anyone. I didn’t think he had time, working for that rich family.”
“The Bowmans,” I correct him with a hint of edge to my tone. They were more than just some family. They were like family to me.
“Right. Them. Were they the ones who passed away in that fire...?”
“Yup.” I don’t want to talk about this anymore.
“So where did the two of you meet?” He shoves his hands into his pockets.
“To be frank? At work. I was the maid and took care of their daughter now and again.”
“Huh! The butler and the maid!” His eyes go wide and he exhales a puff of air. “You think you only read about that kind of stuff in romance novels, but I guess that kind of stuff can be true.”
My face flushes hot. I don’t want someone to think that I’m just another trope you read about in some trashy harlequin novel.
“From the look on your face, I’ve offended you,” he mutters sheepishly under his breath. His jaw clenches and unclenches with concern, his face perfectly smooth and shaved. But he definitely has Benjamin’s eyes.
“To be fair, it’s not my place to judge.” Oliver runs a hand over his head, pulling back the slightly long, dark brown hair he wears almost to his shoulders. “As long as you two were okay with it, why is it any of my business? You’re both adults.”
The air was starting to feel tense for a second, but all of that melts away with his words. I’d been afraid that once he learned, it would be nothing but arguments and chaos. So when he demonstrates that he’s fine with it, all of the tension exits my body with an exhale.
“Can we start off on a different foot? Hi, I’m Oliver Gardner, Benjamin’s son.” He extends a hand with a smile, one much friendlier than when we’d first met thirty minutes ago.
“Hi, Maria Bailey. Your father’s girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend?” I huff a laugh. They don’t really have a word for someone who’s not the deceased’s spouse.
“We could go with ‘partner’,” he suggests. Partner. I like it. It sounds more official without bordering that edge of being married. Vague enough that no one else will ask questions.
“So. What can you tell me about my father?”
A week later...
I should have brought a pair of shades because I don’t know how much crying I have left in me.
It’s been a non-stop stream of tears with every new word someone shares or a new song that’s sung.
The only thing I’m thankful for is that Oliver chose not to have this ceremony in a church.
They’ve freaked me out my entire life. I can’t tell you why; they’ve always left me feeling uneasy.
Most of the gathering consists of people I’ve never met before. A sea of faces I don’t recognize, but they all know each other. People are sharing hugs and soft words with each other, practiced smiles as defense mechanisms for how they’re really feeling on the inside.
I’m not one of them. I sit in the last row, alone, save for Morgan who promised he would come with me, and Grace, who was intrigued by the prospect of a funeral (I’m assuming she doesn’t remember the one for her parents, given the circumstances).
I’d refused at first, of course; no child should be exposed to this kind of thing so young.
But Chelsea assured me that it was only natural that she would want to know and have questions about it.
So instead of sheltering her from it, she decided it would be better to let her go.
None of the others argued against her logic.
Grace has also known Ben since she was born, so it was only right that she gets to say goodbye too.
“Is he... in that?” Grace asks softly, pointing to the large wooden box that is Ben’s casket.
“Yeah. It’s so that they can be comfortable before they’re placed in the ground.”
“How can they be comfortable? He’s dead, he can’t feel anything anymore.”
Her words drive pins and needles into my chest, and I reach for another tissue.
“I know, but we want them to look comfortable since it’s the last time we’re going to see them.”
“Like Mom and Dad.”
“Yeah... just like Mom and Dad.”
“She was wearing that pretty blue dress I like...”
So maybe she remembers more than I give her credit for.
“That’s right, and she looked nice, didn’t she?”
“I guess...”
The rest of the ceremony continues without a hitch, and it’s over before I know it. I don’t even remember everything that happened, being lost in my own thoughts and all.
“If you’d like to follow us to the gravesite...” The minister gestures to the door where the hearse is waiting.
“Do you want to stay for this part, Grace?” Morgan asks and squeezes her hand.
“I don’t know.”
“It’s okay, we don’t have to stay,” I say as I stand from my seat. “We don’t want to overstay our welcome.”
“Wait, you can’t leave.” Oliver rushes up to us, his hair pulled back in a short ponytail at the base of his neck. The bright blue tie perfectly complements his slightly green eyes, and the grey suit fits his body well.
“Sorry?” I thought my job here was over.
“I... had something arranged for both you and Grace here. Nothing big, before you think I’m asking you to say something to a crowd of people you don’t know. Just these.” He holds out a long-stemmed rose to both Grace and me. I take it and stare at him, confused.
“My father was a big part of your lives, so it’s only right you share some of yourself with him too. You just have to throw them in before they start...” I can see the bob of his Adam’s apple when he swallows.
“Before they start shoveling the dirt in.”
I look down at the rose, then lower myself to one knee so that I can meet Grace, eye-to-eye.
“What do you say, Grace? Do you want to?”
She twirls the rose between her fingers before she nods.
The walk towards the gravesite is somber, and much less lonely with three people by my side.
I originally thought I was going to be alone in this, keeping my tears to myself while the rest of Ben’s friends and family shared their thoughts of him.
Instead, I learn that I’m not alone. That I don’t have to go through this alone.
Everyone is gathered around this square hole in the ground with the casket at the bottom.
I’m sure Ben would have been proud of how shiny it is.
The minister starts another small sermon; Oliver nods in my direction. I take Grace’s hand and take a few steps toward the hole. Grace stops in her tracks and I can see the terror written all over her face. This is too much for her.
“If you want, I can toss it in for you. Is that okay?” I offer a hand for her rose. “It’s okay, you did good.”
Her terrified eyes search mine before she thrusts it into my hand and retreats to Morgan. There are a few hushed whispers amongst the rest of the crowd, but nothing I can make out. I honestly don’t care much anyway.
I stare into the deep hole and share a few silent words with a dead man before tossing in both roses. They both spin and twirl on their way down and eventually catch on the floral wreath sitting on top of the casket. Two blooms of red on top of a sea of white.
I glance at Oliver before I step back and let the rest of the process take place.
“I can’t tell you the last time I had a gin and coke.”
“Are you kidding? It’s a staple!” I toast my glass against his and down about half of it. This is my second and I’m nowhere close to being intoxicated. Despite my small stature, I’ve been known to drink a few people under the table when I’m ready. I’m not about to put Oliver to the test.
“I’m more of a whiskey sour, myself.” He takes a sip from his stein of beer and licks the foam from his upper lip.
“Then why aren’t you having one right now?”
“Because that’s not how you start an evening like this.”
Most of the people from the funeral are mingling around the bar—the after-party, as some might call it—filling the room with loud conversations and laughter. It’s so nice to hear merriment after so much mourning.
“I’ll work my way to it eventually, don’t you worry. So, let’s get down to the nitty-gritty. The past week has been filled with nothing but preparation for today. But with it over, I need you to tell me everything.”
“Everything...?”
“About my dad. The times you had together. Not the parts that are private, mind you. But the fact that he never told me about you whenever I called... It makes me think he might have been embarrassed about you.”
Both of our faces flush at the same time, mine out of mock anger, his out of embarrassment.
“That’s not what I meant!”
“Oh, please do correct yourself before I clock you in the face,” I jest. After the past week of getting to know him, I know he would never say something like that on purpose.
“I’m just saying, it made me curious why he would keep you a secret.”
I shrug and take another sip of my drink.
“Because we knew what people would think, seeing the age difference. And the fact that he didn’t think it was necessary to confuse your life by learning he was in another relationship. I had no desire to become your stepmother. I mean...” I lean in close to whisper.
“How creepy would that have been, your stepmother being younger than you?”
“I probably would have puked,” he chuckles into his drink. “But I think I would have gotten used to it once I got to know you better. Like right now.”
My cheeks warm and I gesture to the bartender for another drink as a distraction.
“When did... you start seeing each other?” he asks, trying his best not to sound too nosy.
“Uh, maybe five, six years ago?” The timeline is muddy, given everything that’s happened since then. “Why?”
“My mom, she died about eight years ago. A horrible accident at her workplace.”
“Oh... oh, I’m sorry to hear that. I didn’t know...” Why would Ben not share something like that with me?
“Hey, at least he waited for a while to start fishing again, right?” He toasts his stein against mine and downs the rest of it, slamming the empty glass onto the table, just in time for the bartender to finally get here.
“Another one of these and a whiskey sour, please. For you?”
“An aviation, please.”
“Another gin drink.”
“What can I say, gin is my guilty pleasure.”
The rest of the night continues with joyous festivities, the people slowly trickling out once they’ve had enough and are ready to go home.
Oliver and I are two of the few left, sharing our stories about Benjamin and the impact he had on both of our lives.
It’s so nice to know I’m not being kept in the dark anymore.
But what I can’t help is the fluttering in my chest every time I look into Oliver’s eyes. He shares his father’s eyes and his smile. It’s almost like I’m meeting a younger version of the man I loved that I missed out on.
“Which side of town do you live on?”
“Eastbrooke.”
“Darn. My hotel’s the other way. I was going to suggest we share a cab and continue this conversation.”
I could always go back to your place is what I want to say. The ugly stirring in my stomach tells me otherwise.
“That sucks. But... if you’re going to be in town much longer, maybe we could meet up later...?”
“I’d like that. I still have to take care of his personal effects, so it might be another week or so.”
“Perfect. Have a good night, Oliver.”
“You too, Maria.”
He even sounds like him. I don’t like how this is making me feel.