When I get to the gate of the house, my eyes are swollen and raw. My chest is heavy and my body is weak. It was a long drive here, and it was too late to call a driver. The entire ride on the train, I stared at the seat across from me, remembering the night Landon followed me. The more I try to push the memories back, the heavier they force themselves on me.
I push in the code for the big metal gate, and the cab drives away. The gate creaks open, and I walk slowly up the expansive driveway. Manicured trees and flowers line the way, as if there were life in this estate. I look up to the dark house perched on top of the hill. There’s no life here.
The house is silent except for the quiet running of the fish tank and the beeping of the machines as I get closer to the master bedroom. The nurse’s car is parked out front, so I know she’s here somewhere. Each of my steps echoes from the walls, and I wonder if I would have loved this massive house if things were different.
Would I have learned to love my husband and raised a family in this house? I look up to the chandeliers suspended above me and at the expensive art hanging on the walls. One-of-a-kind paintings and chandeliers for a man who will never see them.
The bedroom door is unlocked, of course it is, and I push it open.
Amir is sitting in his chair.
His eyes are closed.
His face is freshly shaven and his white cotton shirt is unbuttoned at the top.
He was such a beautiful man.
He is such a beautiful man.
In the morning, I will yell at his nurse, Jennifer, for leaving him in his wheelchair all night, but for now, I drop my bag and sit at his feet. I lift his heavy arm and lay my head on his lap. The breathing machine hisses, and I move the hose away from my feet and drop his arm over my head.
I don’t cry, and for the first time in a long time, I can imagine myself living here, in this room, with my silent husband, for the rest of my life.