Two days later, I sat at my kitchen table while everyone moved around me. And when I say everyone, I mean, Emma and her husband, David. I sipped coffee and they helped the movers put my furniture in place. Emma directed them where to put each piece. Everything was fuzzy. I wasn’t paying attention to what anyone was saying. I came back into focus when Emma put her hand on my shoulder.

“We’re almost done, babe,” she said. There was no enthusiasm in her voice.

“Thank you, Emma.”

As promised, Emma had called me the day before, but I didn’t answer. I was in and out of sleep all day and forced myself to fall back asleep whenever I was startled awake by the ringing. I didn’t even have the energy to roll over and silence it. When the movers had knocked on the door, I made it to my feet long enough to agree to pay extra for them to return with it the next day. I had completely forgotten. Or maybe I just didn’t care. I retreated into my sleeping bag as soon as I closed the door. When Emma knocked a little while later, I’d answered the door, crying mostly, trying to get out the words. She’d left David on the porch and walked me back into my bedroom. All she did was hold me. I cried and managed between sobs to tell her about the horrid email. The email that both set me free and chained me down. I wasn’t sure I’d ever read anything more bittersweet.

She handled everything for me today. She fixed food and forced me to eat at least a little of it. David offered to hang everything for me. I only had two photographs left. There was a black and white picture of my mother from when she was younger that I always loved. The other was a print of the cover of my first book that Vera sent to me. He made easy work of it and I was grateful. Part of me just wanted them to leave and I felt terrible for that. Another part of me wanted them to stay forever. Most of me, however, didn’t give a fuck what happened.

“I’ll be back to check on you tomorrow and I’ll make you some food.” Emma hugged me goodbye, followed by David.

“Thank you guys so much for all your help. I’d be lost without you,” I said. And it was true.

I checked the time. Only 5:30 p.m. They did a pretty good job considering how useless I was. All right, Delilah. You’ve got a choice to make. I had to decide if I was going to crawl back into bed or actually do something. My Bed! It was here! Not a sleeping bag on the floor, a bed. My bed. You never really realize how much you take for granted until you have to go a while without it. My excitement for my bed almost erased my sadness. Almost.

I walked down the short hallway to the door of my bedroom. Oh, God, I love her. Emma didn’t just see to it that my bed was assembled, but she found my bedding, clearly de-wrinkled it in the dryer, and made it up for me. It was pristine. Perfectly tucked and folded, pillows fluffed, and she even turned down my side. It looked so inviting. No, Delilah.

I took a shower instead. The water was nearly as hot as it could be. I could feel my knotted self start to unravel a little. I dropped my shoulders, bowed my head, and let the water run over me for a good fifteen minutes before I grabbed the soap. I made quick work of my body and hair, and then I just stood here again. Another ten minutes passed before I turned off the water and stepped out.

I got dressed and dried my hair but there was no need for makeup, so I grabbed my shoes and headed for the living room. In the past, I always went on walks when I needed pretty much anything and that’s what life called for right now. I walked to clear my head, to think about a project, to gain inspiration. I walked when I was upset, when I was happy, when I just needed to breathe. I grabbed my house key, slid it into my front pocket, and walked out onto the front porch.

The day Jeff left, I took a walk. I walked for hours. Maybe I just needed to be away from the house we shared. I didn’t really know; I just kept walking. I didn’t know what I thought that was going to solve. I walked and I cried. I walked past neighboring houses, across the road, into the park, out of the other side of the park, and eventually I started circling back around. I cried the entire time. When I finally made it back to my porch, I stopped crying. I wiped my cheeks clean, rubbed my eyes, and straightened myself up. And I hadn’t cried since. Not until two days ago when I read that email. Why did she have to tell me about the pregnancy? Why did she even mention it? It would have been just as easy to leave it out. The damage was done now. No use dwelling on it. Except I was probably going to do just that for at least a week.

I was lost in thought when I heard a vaguely familiar voice cutting in.

“Oh, hello again!” I heard. It was a deep voice.

I whirled my head around toward its direction. There was a man standing up on a porch, smiling widely and waving. Who the hell is that? I turned around to see who he might be talking to but I was the only person as far as I could see.

“I’m talking to you, silly!” he said, pointing straight at me.

I still had no idea who he was, and he must have read my expression. He took a few steps toward me, and I took a few back. He stopped, sensing my apprehension.

“I’m sorry. We met in the diner a few days ago. Well, we didn’t really meet. We bumped into each other,” he said.

Oh, that guy. “Oh, hi. Sorry, I didn’t recognize you,” I said.

“That’s all right, I shouldn’t have expected you to.” He took another step toward me, and I took another step back.

I didn’t say anything but I stood here not moving long enough for the silence to grow a little uncomfortable.

“I’m Samuel,” he finally said.

“I’m Delilah.” I looked up and down the street at the surrounding houses.

“So do you live around here?” he asked.

“Just a couple of streets over. I just moved in,” I said.

“Ah! Well, welcome to the neighborhood! If you ever need anything, you know where to find me now,” he offered.

“Yeah, thanks,” I said. That sounded so cold. After the next bit of silence, I cut him off before he could ask anything else. “I really should be going. Sorry again for bumping into you. Bye,” I said as I was already turning to walk away.

“Oh, it’s really no problem! I’ll see you around, Delilah,” he called after me.

I was already a few steps away with my back toward him. No, you won’t, I thought.

* * *

Emma sent me a text the next morning.

If she’s going to be here soon, I should probably get up. I had another shower, because well, it passed the time in a way that didn’t feel excruciating. But it was also when I felt the most relief. I was probably the cleanest person walking around these days, so I had that going for me.

I walked into the sunroom where my desk and writing materials were assembled with expert hands. My laptop sat open but off. Last night, I tried to sit and write something after my walk but I didn’t have any luck. I just wanted to get it out, to vent mostly. What I ended up with was a Word document with two words on it. “I’m sorry.” I quickly erased it when I realized it looked like the start of a suicide note, and that certainly wasn’t my intention. I wanted to write my now ex-husband a letter. I wanted to write it for the entire year following the day he walked out, but I never found the words. Maybe one day I would know what I wanted to say and how to say it.

I walked past my desk and crossed the room to the far corner. I peered outside, into my backyard, and watched two squirrels scurry up and down the tree. The leaves hadn’t quite started to fall, so I imagined they were hard at work storing nuts for the winter months. What a life. You spend your entire existence gathering food and sleeping. I need that life right about now.

I watched for a few more envious moments until I heard a knock at the door. Emma. I made my way to the front door quickly, assuming her arms were full of food and I was right. I took some of it from her when I opened the door, and we walked to the kitchen table together.

We took a seat across from each other and she started shoveling out food onto a plate for me. She’d even ordered me a large green tea. I did my best to eat what she gave me. My bites were slow, small, and deliberate, but it was a start.

“Do you have any plans today?” she asked.

“No, not really,” I said. I had been fortunate enough to gain a level of success that meant I didn’t have to hold a day job. I could write full time, which meant during the times when I wasn’t able to write anything, I had a lot of filling to do. Sometimes it was easy and sometimes it was difficult, depending on my mood.

“Well, you’ve got to do something with your time. You can’t just mope around every day. You’ll get fat,” she joked.

But she was right. I had to move. “I saw a gym down the street. I used to go pretty regularly once upon a time. Back at home. I mean, back in Nashville,” I said. This is home now.

“That’s the gym I use, too! You could probably even walk there from here if you really wanted,” she said.

She certainly seemed more excited about it than I did. “Okay, I’ll go sign up today. It won’t hurt to have somewhere to let off some steam.”

“Do you think you’ll be dating soon?” she asked.

I shot her a look that probably instantly made her regret asking. “No.”

“Well, I was only asking because I know this great guy I think you would like. He…”

“NO,” I said, cutting her off mid-sentence. I didn’t shout, but I was forceful about it.

“I understand,” she said.

She didn’t mean anything by it. And truth be told, no one else would think it was too soon for her to ask. I had been separated for a solid year now. I think by this point, people expect you to at least be open to the idea. In all that time, I didn’t even think about dating. I still wasn’t thinking about dating. But it was a fair question, I guess. I just had no interest. And Emma had spent our entire friendship looking out for me in a way only true friends would understand. It was quite motherly or sisterly.

We finished eating, mostly in silence, and made a bit of small talk. She talked about her new studio. Emma had made a pretty decent name for herself as a photographer and was successful enough to open a store front studio. She spent her days snapping shots of happy women in their wedding gowns, at bridal parties, with their newborn babies, and families. She said her favorite thing to do was photograph the same family over time. From engagement photos, to the wedding, the newborn, and then family photos. She loved watching the evolution of it. She once said it made her happy to watch them grow.

“You know, if you’re ever bored and want to fill some time, you can always come help me out at the studio,” she offered.

“Thank you, that might be nice,” I said sort of quietly. In truth, the thought was terrifying. I’m not sure I wanted to be around all those happy smiling families and babies. All those babies. I put my hand over my belly and thought it would be best to stay away from her studio for the time being.

“You feel like going for a drive? There’s a store downtown I think you’d like,” she said.

“Sure.” I shrugged my shoulders and grabbed my purse, keys, and phone. It seemed like a better idea than watching the squirrels again after she left. I needed to get out. I couldn’t stay away from people forever. I locked the door behind us and made my way to her blue Nissan.

* * *

Emma was right. That night, I sat in bed with all the stuff I purchased, pulling things from bags. Shopping made me feel a little better. She took me to her favorite boutiques. I bought some things for the house. A couple of vases, some candles, a few picture frames. Although I don’t know what I’ll put in them. I bought some cute pillows for the couch and curtains for the windows. I even managed to make a joke while I was out with her.

“Well, at least I get to decorate exactly how I want and don’t have a pesky husband to battle with.”

The laugh that followed was small, but it was there.

Emma forced me into buying some new clothes. I hated clothes shopping. I looked in the mirrors in dressing room after dressing room and hated how everything looked. But she insisted and when your best friend insists, you go with it. I pulled out a couple of sweaters from one of the bags. If I was being honest with myself, I was glad she made me buy them. They were so cozy and perfect for the coming weather. I pulled a dress from another bag. I wasn’t so sure about this one. I didn’t really wear a lot of dresses. It was long sleeve and sort of short, something you wear with leggings and boots. I’ll just tuck this in the back of my closet and only wear it when Emma forces me to.

I finished putting everything away and reminded myself to get fresh flowers for my new vases tomorrow. I always enjoyed fresh flowers in the house. They kept it smelling nice while also giving the appearance of a cheerful atmosphere, even when it wasn’t true. Jeff used to bring me lilies home, my favorite. So tomorrow, I would get any other flower. No more lilies for me. I’d have to settle on a new favorite flower.

Just as I was pulling the blanket up over me, I heard my phone ding. I grabbed it from the nightstand and opened it to my texts. It wasn’t a saved number. Weird.

That’s fucking weird. Who the hell? I waited for more. Wrong number maybe? I replied asking who it was and I waited a few minutes. Nothing. Okay, Delilah, it’s not a big deal. Probably just a wrong number and they were too embarrassed to respond. I couldn’t help but think the message sounded all too much like something someone would say to me, given my current circumstances. What an odd occurrence.

That night, I tossed and turned for a while before I finally fell asleep. I dreamt of a stark white hospital room with no windows and no doors. There was an exam table in the center of the room and a balled-up hospital gown on the floor beside it. The gown was covered in blood. I woke up crying.