Sledgehammer (Hard to Love 2)

Watching her lean on Dan as we traverse hill after hill to get to the plot, her heels sinking into the grass with every step she takes, is the highlight of my week. At one point she almost drags Dan down with her as she stumbles backwards. I know in my heart of hearts that some time in the future, when I recall this, I will break out it fits of laughter.

I glance up at Ethan to see if he’s noticed, and watch his lips quiver. I don’t know what his eyes are doing because he has his King of Studs sunglasses on.

The black comedy portion of the day is over when we reach the plot. The priest is already there. Everything is set to go. Ethan keeps his arm around me on one side while Audrey flanks my other side. Dan has taken Eileen’s hand. He rubs her knuckles in comfort.

I used to believe in karma. I used to believe that there’s a master plan as to how our lives play out, a heavenly accountant, if you will, keeping track of all the pluses and minuses. I cry foul. I cry foul for the simple fact that Eileen never did a damn thing to deserve a man as good as Dan. How does that equation balance? How does she get to roller-skate through life without a care, without ever once dealing with the consequences of her irresponsibility? How is that fair? Someone explain it to me.

The service starts and concludes with expedience. We thank the priest as the coffin is being lowered, linger for an amount of time that’s appropriate, then en masse begin our cross-country trek back to the parking lot. Eileen complains the entire time. I kid you not.

“I don’t understand why she had to buy a plot all the way in the back…my shoes are ruined. Dan, my shoes are ruined. Look at the heels, they’re ruined.”

“I’m sure they’re not ruined,” St. Dan the doting husband responds.

“Look at how many nice plots there are closer to the road. I would’ve told her to buy one of these, but did anyone consult me? Of course not. These shoes are seven hundred dollars…Jesus, it’s hot. If I knew it was going to get hot I wouldn’t have worn this suit…Dan, can’t you bring the car around? I can’t walk another step in these shoes. This cemetery isn’t very well kept…”

“She was trying to save money!” I shout, wheeling around to face her. “For her care! Do you know how much that plot cost? Five thousand! Do you ever think of anyone but yourself?”

Ethan grips my shoulder harder, almost pulling me back, while my mother’s eyes narrow on me.

“That’s it. We’re leaving. I don’t need to take this shit from you. God, you’re such a bully!”

For a minute, I feel bad…only for a minute.

Dan looks so uncomfortable he looks ready to crawl out his skin. In silence, Audrey follows our mother to the car while Dan is left standing there. “Maybe it’s best we all take a time out. Amber, I know you’re upset, but she’s upset too. She just handles it differently.”

With that, Dan turns and leaves. Ethan and I watch the car drive away. It feels like a chapter of my life just ended.

Two nights later, sleeping restlessly, I wake abruptly in the middle of the night. The cable box reads two am. A loud snore coming from the man next to me says Ethan is soundly asleep. I crawl out of bed and throw on Ethan’s hoody over my tank top and underwear. Grabbing my phone just in case, I head out.

I’ve been on edge the last two days. I never realized that it was the weight of my grandmother that was tying me down, anchoring me to this life, until it was gone. Untethered, I feel like I could float away. That I should float away…to Los Angeles. Except something keeps whispering in my ear that either way, I won’t find any peace.

In the rooftop garden, I sit on the carved wooden bench overlooking the cityscape. It’s only June and already warm.

“Hey,” I hear coming from the doorway. The voice sounds hoarse, sleep deprived. Ethan stands there in his glasses, a t-shirt and boxer briefs. My heart lurches inside my chest. Not because he’s stunning on the outside––because he’s even more beautiful on the inside.

“Did I wake you?”

He shakes his head. “Not having you next to me did,” he states casually as if he didn’t just freaking end me. I wonder if he even realizes the significance of his words.

Pain, my heart throbs with it, my throat constricting with all the things I’m too scared to tell him. I have so much love for this man my body can’t contain it all.

I watch him rub his eyes with his thumb and index finger, his eyebrows stretching up. Between juggling work and me, he must be exhausted. I’ve tried to pretend everything’s back to normal––whatever that is––to alleviate some of his concern. It doesn’t seem to be working, though.