“Stop saying shit like that. I’ll see if one of the old ladies at the club can watch him tonight but tomorrow, you’re gonna have to get in that car to pick him up.”
“Okay. I hear you.”
She says that but I don’t fucking believe her. I don’t know what to do for her, but this isn’t working.
“I miss him, Jag. You’ve never been married. You don’t understand how it feels to be so lonely. To ache so deeply for someone knowing you’ll never touch them again. Never hear their voice…I need my husband but nothing or no one can give him back to me. I can’t bring him back. How do I go on? How do I do this? How do I go on with my life as though he never existed?”
“One day at a time. But each day you get up and show up for Gus, because that’s what Denny would want. In time he’d want you to meet someone to make you happy. I’m not saying it has to be tomorrow or hell even this year or the next but you gotta live. You’re still here. And you keep his memory alive for you and Gus, but you’re not dead.”
Chapter 6
Patience
My first day had interesting moments. Okay the highlight had to be Jagger. The man makes me smile which is crazy because I don’t even know him. Bringing me lunch. Asking about my security. I don’t want to be anyone’s charity case, but I appreciate what he did for me. Taking on Choke and making sure I’m safe, not a lot of people would have stood up for me like that. He mentioned that Augustus is his nephew, his sister’s son. He probably has a big brother complex, but if he had been the man to roll up on his Harley to take me on a date, my night would have gone so much better. A man like Jagger wouldn’t need to force a woman. He’s the type of man a woman will go down on will
ingly.
Kicking my heels off, I unbutton my blouse and unzip the back of my skirt. The black fabric falls to my feet. Snagging it, I remove my shirt and move to the laundry room off the downstairs bathroom by the kitchen pantry. This part of the house was an addition. I deposit my dirty clothes and my bra in the hamper and grab a tank top off the top of my clean laundry that’s sitting on top of the laundry basket I keep putting off carrying upstairs. Slipping the soft cotton over my head, I push my arms through and tug it down over my torso.
I have a bottle of wine calling my name. “There you are, Mr. Puss.” Whiskers saunters into the kitchen and stops to stretch. “Did you have a good day while Momma was at work?” I work my fingers around his neck, giving him a scratch earning me loud purrs. “I suppose you want your supper, hmmm.” He looks up at me like duh. “Fine. My wine can wait a few more seconds.” I really need a social life. My cat has become my sole companion.
I miss Karen, my bestie. She’s an older widow who lived across the street from Nicholas and me. Now she lives across from him and I live here with no neighbors. Some of the teachers at school are nice enough, but I didn’t feel that instant connection to any of them. They have worked together for years, so they’ve settled into their cliques. Today was day one. I need to give things time. I know that. Going from several friends to zero is tough. Going from sharing your day with a spouse to only having your cat for company is even harder.
I grab the wine bottle forgoing a glass, flip on the Tv to find a movie, and settle on the couch. One thing my father didn’t do was upgrade this house to include central heating and cooling. Another luxury I’m missing in my life. There’s some window units stored in one of the outbuildings. I’m not strong enough to lift them on my own. Another tick on the box of why I should have maybe tried to work harder at my marriage.
I don’t mean that. I know we are both better off. I’m having myself a nice little pity party this evening. After downing more wine than I should have I grab my purse from the nearby chair and pull out the post it Jagger wrote his phone number on. My house line rings with a call likely from my mother.
I take the wine with me. My cell phone doesn’t get reception out here. There’s only the one phone. I pick up my pace, jogging knowing if I don’t rush, I’ll miss the call. Straddling the stool, I pick the telephone up from the receiver. “Hello.”
“FFFffffff. Huuuuu.”
“Hello? Is anyone there? Can you hear me?” I hold the phone out and stare at it then shake my head. It’s not like whoever it is can see me.
Heavy breathing sounds through the line. I hang up the call. Chill bumps spread up my legs. Whisker purrs near my feet.
“Wrong number I suppose,” I tell my cat. The phone rings again. “Hello.”
“Sweetheart.”
“Mom.” Whoosh. I let out a breath.
“How was your first day? Have you come to your senses yet and decided to come home?”
I smile. “It was good. This is home now.”
“What your father ever saw in that place…I’ll never know.”
“It has a charm.”
“No it does not. But I guess if you like it that’s what matters. What do I know? I’m just your poor old feeble mother.”
“Stop it. You’re like what fifty-five? You were like twenty-four when you met Dad.”
“I thought he was forty. Your father looked quite young for his age. Maybe you’ll be blessed with his good aging genes.”
“Gee thanks.”
“Aren’t you lonely in that big house by yourself? I should come visit, but I hate the country. It’s why your father and I never worked. City girl and a good ol’ boy set in his ways. He was Wranglers and I was Prada. But the man was the best lover I ever knew.”