Whispered Prayers of a Girl

“Jeremy,” I grunt.

“Hey, Jeremy,” Gwen says, stepping from behind me and offering him a smile. “Thank you so much for coming to get me and the kids. I hope the roads weren’t too bad.”

His eyes leave mine to look at Gwen. Jeremy’s in his early fifties, and while men his age are still very capable of having a sexual appetite, he looks at Gwen with respect and what looks like fatherly affection. My body relaxes at the innocent expression. It’s stupid of me, and I have no right, but I don’t want to think of Jeremy wanting Gwen for his own.

“They’ve been plowed and the salt’s doing its job, so they weren’t bad.”

“That’s good.”

An awkward silence fills the air as all three of us stand there. I’m used to living in the quiet, so it doesn’t really bother me much, but Gwen shifts beside me and Jeremy shoves his hand back into his pocket and rocks on his heels.

It’s Gwen who speaks first. “I’ll… umm… just go make sure the kids are all ready,” she says before leaving Jeremy and me alone.

“Place looks good,” he says lightly after several moments.

He’s been out here a quite a few times. When Clara was still alive, we hosted barbeques every once in a while. Half the town would show up normally.

“Thanks,” I reply.

Silence ensues once again, and fuck if I know what to do to fill it.

Unable to just stand there any longer, I turn on my heel and throw over my shoulder, “You want a cup of coffee before you go?”

“Oh… uh….” He follows me into the kitchen. “Sure.”

There’s already a fresh pot made, so I walk over and pour him a cup. I’ve gotten used to Gwen and the kids being here, but now with Jeremy, it feels strange again. Even when I have clients over, we don’t come into my house. In the last four years, I’ve only had my family here, and a couple of old friends.

Jeremy sits at the bar, coffee cup in hand, while I lean against the counter across from him, my arms folded over my chest. I know I’m making him fidgety with my stillness, but I’m out of my element when it comes to visitors. I don’t shoot the shit or joke around anymore. I’m quiet and like my space, preferring to stay away from everything and everybody as much as possible. I like this lifestyle now. It’s different from what Clara and I had, but it’s something I need now.

“So, how have you been?” he asks, then grimaces. “Sorry,” he mutters, looking down at his coffee. “Stupid question.”

I let him off the hook, because really, under normal circumstances, most people would have already let go of their grief, or at the very least learne

d how to deal with it and move on with their life. Asking a question such as that shouldn’t be a big deal.

“I’ve been good.”

I make sure to keep my voice neutral so I don’t scare him off. I hate that people are leery to be around me, that they tiptoe and whisper behind my back. Yes, what happened destroyed me and it’s fucked me up in more ways than one, and yes, I do keep away from town because I really don’t care to be around people, but when I am in town it pisses me off that they act like I’m a goddamn freak or something. My scars are hideous, and every single fucking day I think about how I wasn’t able to protect the two people I loved more than anything in the world, but when people pull the wary card, it reminds me even more of how much I’ve lost and what I’ve done, or rather, wasn’t able to do.

“That’s good.” He nods and takes a sip of his coffee.

“How have you and your mother been?” I ask, because that’s what people do, right? When one asks the other how they are, it’s polite to reciprocate.

He seems surprised by my question, and I guess that’s my fault. I haven’t been the friendliest person to be around when I do show my face.

“Mom fell the other day and bruised her hip, but other than that, we’ve been good.”

“I heard you and Gwen talking the other day about that.” I pause and surprise myself by adding, “If you need help making that ramp, let me know.”

His brows lift at my offer, and I can’t really say I blame him.

“But I don’t want to go, Mom,” Daniel’s voice interrupts us.

I look up and see Gwen and Daniel walking into the living room, their bag slung over her shoulder, with Kelsey behind them.

Gwen stops, glances at me, then turns Daniel by his shoulders to face her. “I know you don’t, sweetie, but we have to. This is Alexander’s house and we’ve imposed on him long enough.”

I want to tell her that they haven’t been an imposition at all, that I loved having them here and want them to stay, but I keep the words locked tight in my mouth.