Not What I Expected

“No. I would never want to burden any of you. I will happily retire to a ten-by-ten room, shit myself all day, stare out a window and contemplate where the heck I went wrong in raising my kids.”

“Not cool, Mom.” Linc shook his head. “And you’re forty-two. Why are you even talking about something that won’t be an issue for many years? And how do you know you won’t find someone and decide to remarry?”

“I don’t want to remarry.”

“You’re just saying that because Dad hasn’t been gone that long. You can’t predict the future. Unexpected things happen.”

I had so much to say about that, but it wasn’t something I wanted to share with my young adult child who had his whole life ahead of him.

Views changed.

Needs changed.

Happiness shifted into new directions.

I wasn’t afraid of growing old and being lonely. I was afraid of following an expected protocol, making decisions based on societal expectations.

Crap …

I was making Kael’s case.

“You’re right. I don’t know what the future holds.”

“Promise me you’ll talk to Mel and Jeremy. Maybe they’d be willing to move Grandma and Papa closer to them.”

I knew Craig’s siblings wouldn’t be on board with that. Mel just made partner at a law firm in Miami. And Jeremy’s marriage was on the rocks because he cheated on his wife a few months after Craig’s death. He was kind enough to actually blame it on Craig—the stress of it. In a roundabout way, I was to blame for Jeremy’s infidelity.

“Okay,” I said through a fake smile. “I’ll talk to them.”

“Thank you.” He sighed. “I’m taking off. I think you can handle the holiday rush on your own.”

“Yeah … shit!” I grimaced. “Shoot … you know what I mean.” I scrambled past him. “Stay here. I have to run a quick errand.”

“Where are you going?”

I ran out the door, no jacket, no regard for Bella calling my name as well.

“Sorry. Excuse me. Sorry. Pardon me.” I zigzagged my way through the Black Friday crowd congesting the square while shooting off a text to Amie: Abort!

Grabby hands kept me from getting there in a timely manner, like Pam from my grief group, stopping me by snagging my sleeve.

“Hey. I thought of you and our group the other night when my son woke me up at three in the morning by turning on the light in my bedroom.”

“Um … okay. Can’t wait to hear all about it at group.” I pulled out of her grip.

“Ben used to do that. When he turned the bedroom light on at five in the morning, an hour before I had to wake up. I felt like he was silently asking for a divorce. It was a ‘lightbulb’ moment for me. And now his son does it and will someday drive his wife crazy. I hope he can at least put away his clean clothes. I would wash Ben’s clothes and put them on his side of the bed. He’d move them to the floor, where they’d stay for weeks until the dog made a nest of them, and they had to be washed again.” She laughed.

I kept my forward motion but shot her a smile over my shoulder. “I’m sure you miss that now.” Yay for me! I said the right thing. I reminded her to focus on the important things in life. Her inconsiderate bastard of a husband was dead. No need to keep dwelling on the past even if it had become the theme of our group.

“Ho. Ho. Ho … young lady.” Santa grabbed my arm as I budged in line, fighting my way to the entrance of What Did You Expect? Why did everyone feel the need to grab me?

Whipping my head back in his direction, I jerked my arm away. “I need to …” My eyes narrowed. “Dan?”

Kael’s father in the Santa suit winked at me. “Shh … it’s Santa.”

After a few seconds of hesitation, I nodded slowly. “I uh … need to get inside.”

“Kael wants me to spend the afternoon at your store. So I’ll see you in a few hours. Get ready for the crowd to shift to your place.”

Why? Why did that anger me even more? Since when did kindness irritate me so much? Oh yeah … since Kael Hendricks tipped my world on its side.

“Amie …” I whispered, turning and bulldozing anyone who tried to block me from getting into the store. But just as I reached the door, customers poured out of it like opened flood gates.

“Yuck.”

“Eww …”

“Gross.”

The herd of customers exiting the store forced me to step aside.

“Poor, Amie.”

“I know.”

“You think it’s really botulism?”

“I don’t know. That’s what she mumbled while she was doubled over.”

The passing chatter and incessant whispers filled the space as everyone scattered, even the lineup of children waiting to see Santa, dispersed in all directions. As soon as I found a tiny gap, I slipped into the store. And there she was, on her knees, close to the checkout counter.