“Bri?” I hear Olivia’s voice, and I’m grateful that she decided to bring the spare key she has for my house. “Bri?” Her voice gets closer, but I can’t call out.
I continue to soak the pile around me with my tears, mute except for my quiet cries. Cries that I pray would bring back the one person who could console me. But they can’t, because he’s resting six feet under in a wooden box, layers of dirt upon dirt keeping him there. Actually, the shots that killed him are keeping him there.
“Here you are.” Olivia’s soft voice rings around my closet. “Oh, Bri.”
As soon as Cole left, I lost any sense of control I had and allowed my emotions to overcome me, tearing through me, shattering the small bits of sanity I had intact. Now, I lie on the floor of my closet, in a mess of clothes that I tore from the hangers as I inhale the small lingering scent that’s left of Josh.
As soon as his scent disappears forever, so will he. It’s only a matter of time. I can only hold on for so long, but I’m attempting to grasp what I can of him before life yanks him completely away.
Olivia sits next to me and soothingly rubs my back. “It’s okay, babe.” She calms me. I cry more, realization stamping me with a notice. Eventually all of this will have to go, or I’ll end up desolate from the world.
I hate that Cole showed up here and started yelling at me. I hate that he thinks he has a right to come to my house and tell me how to grieve.
“I’m so angry,” I tell Liv. “The anger swallows me. How can someone come here and tell me what to do and how to get over Josh? How can anyone understand what I’m going through if they’ve never lost the most important person in their life?”
“I know, sweetie. He had no right to.”
I shake my head, burying it back in Josh’s clothes, and cry. I thought Cole was my friend. I thought he was helping me, so I could be happy again, not because he had an agenda. All he wanted was to…
I can’t even finish that thought.
“What exactly happened? Do you want to talk about it?” Olivia asks.
“Not really,” I say against one of Josh’s shirts.
“Bri, look at me.” I stare into dark blue eyes, clouded with uncertainty. “What can I do?”
“Just be here,” I whisper. My throat is pained from my yelling and wailing. I take a few deep breaths and sit up, facing Liv. I see Dixie crawl out from under the bed and laughter bubbles in my throat. She looks confused and scared as she looks around before coming over to me.
“Sorry, girl.” I touch her soft, wavy fur.
“Getting her was a good idea,” Olivia comments as she also pets Dixie.
“Yeah. She keeps me company and usually knows when to cuddle close and when to hide under the bed, apparently.” I can’t help the giggle. God. I look around the closet. Most of Josh’s clothes is thrown around me, hangers dangling from the poles and others on the floor. His shoes buried under the mess of fabrics.
“This is a disaster.”
“Do you want me to help you clean it up?” Liv offers.
I shake my head. “Not today. I’m not sure it’d make sense to hang it back up where it was, but I’m not ready to pack it up, either.”
“Okay.” Olivia looks around unsure of what to do or say.
“Want wine?” I ask, attempting to smile.
“Always.” Olivia squeezes my hand and stands.
“Wait. Can you drink wine?” I ask her, looking down at her belly.
“All clear so far.” She smirks. One day she’s going to make an amazing mother.
“It will happen when the time is right,” I reassure her. I know Liv, and I know she half expects to get pregnant on their first try.
“Yeah. That’s what Cash says.”
We walk into the kitchen with Dixie on our tails, and I uncork a bottle of red wine. After a few sips, I’m ready to speak.
“I just can’t believe I was such an idiot. I honestly thought Cole was checking in on me because he wanted to make sure I was okay. Not because of anything else.”
Olivia frowns. “How long have you known?” I squint my eyes.
“Since last night. You were too upset, but I noticed immediately the way he hugged you. Hell, the way he ran off after you when you heard the song. I confronted Cash about it and Cole overheard and came clean. I did think it was weird when I saw him show up here unannounced.”
“Cash knows? Does everyone know? Was I some sad joke?”
“No. I don’t think everyone knew until last night. It was too obvious how he reacted toward you.”
“He’d come hang out. I never thought anything of it. I wasn’t in that mindset. It was nice to have company, and he wouldn’t really make me talk about anything. We’d just discuss the band and work. You know I love the guys, but…”
“I get it. You’ve always had Josh.”
“Yeah, had.” I drink more wine. “I’m pathetic.”
“No. This is a process. It will take a while for you to move forward, but as long as you’re doing things that will get you there, you’re doing the right thing. No one’s grieving experience is the same. Besides, aren’t there like twelve steps to grieve?”
“I think that’s twelve sobriety steps,” I giggle.
“Whatever.” Olivia laughs. “You know what I mean. I know there are steps to this. Hey! Actually, now that you mention sobriety, why don’t you talk to Mikayla?”
I look at Olivia as if she’s talking gibberish. What does Tyler Hunt’s fiancé have to do with this?
“Mikayla teaches art classes as a form of therapy. I think she works more with abused women, but it might be something helpful. Sam, her old therapist, owns the center. That’s who Mikayla was with when we ran into her.”
I remember the woman with dark eyes. “I don’t know. The most art I can do is stick figures, and even those are a little crooked.”
Olivia chuckles and says, “It’s supposed to be helpful. It could be a way to release your emotions?” She shrugs. “What do I know, though?”
“You and Cash really believe in shrinks, huh? First he suggests I see a therapist, and now you tell me to go to some art therapy class.”
“If it works, why not?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, if you decide, let me know. She teaches the classes when they’re on break from touring.”
“Okay.” I finish off my glass of wine and replay my conversation with Cole. Well, I wouldn’t call it a conversation—more of a yelling competition to see who was angrier. I think I won.
“Do you think you’ll ever date again?” Liv interrupts my thoughts.
“I don’t think Cole—”
“I’m not talking about Cole. I mean in general. I have no idea how I would react if I lost Cash, yet we’re still so young.” Olivia frowns. “And I don’t know what happened here, but for what it’s worth, he was pretty messed up when he showed up at the house.”
“I don’t know, Liv. I can’t think about that right now because I’m still so involved with Josh. He was my husband, my first love. He was everything to me. We were together for over twelve years. How do you move on from that when neither person fell out of love?”
“I don’t know, but you can’t hold on to his ghost forever, either. You want him to rest peacefully, right?”
I slowly nod. I do want Josh to find peace, yet I can’t seem to release him. I want to hold on to him forever. Thing is, all I’m holding on to is the memory of him. You can’t grasp the essence of a person like you would a physical body.
“Maybe I’ll always be the thirty-three-year-old widow.”
“I’m sorry to break it to you, Bri, but you’re not always going to be this young and pretty.” Olivia giggles.
“Jerk.” I shove her shoulder. “You know what I mean.”
“A widow.” She nods. “Yeah, you’ll always be that, but one day you can add to that. One day you can be a mother, and a wife again. Widow doesn’t have to become your identity unless you allow it to. You’re more than that.”
I shake my head. “Those things belonged to Josh.”
“Time heals all wounds,” she responds.
Once Olivia leaves, I change into pajamas and go to bed. The weight of the day crushes me, making it difficult to breathe. Cole likes me. Olivia thinks I should date at some point in my life again. Dixie is scared of my closet-trashing antics. And at the end of the day, I lie in bed alone.
“Babe? You there? I’m sure you saw the cluster fuck that has become my life. Can you believe it? It all started when I broke down at Riot, of all places, because they played our song. It was a mess. I’m sorry that another person has feelings for me, but I swear I don’t. I love you. I always will. My heart will always belong to you, like it did that first day we met back in college.” I smile at the memory.
The first time I saw Josh, I knew I’d be his forever. We were so young then, twenty years old. I was walking to class at the University of Tennessee and I felt someone bump into me.
“Sorry,” he murmured. I looked up and smiled, but when I saw his light brown eyes, I couldn’t speak to say it was okay. He was video chatting with his mom and hung up quickly, unembarrassed by the fact that he was talking to his mom.
It didn’t take long after that for us to become a couple.
I keep talking to Josh. “Remember that day? When we first met. You were always so handsome. You were perfect for me. We had a good run, and I wish it wasn’t cut so short. Things are supposed to happen for a reason, but I’m still trying to figure out the purpose for your death. I miss you.”
With soft tears streaming down the sides of my face, I close my eyes and sleep.
It’s been a week from hell. Sunday set up the mood for the days to follow, and I haven’t helped in making my mood any better. Today I see Liza, and I am considering bringing up what happened with Cole.
I hadn’t realized how accustomed I had grown to seeing Cole until everything exploded and we’ve been silent. At some point, I started expecting Cole to be a part of my life, just not in the same way he had.
Guilt has been the most recent emotion. Guilt for yelling at Cole. Guilt for having another man care about me who isn’t Josh. Guilt for rejecting him. Mostly, guilt that I can’t be the person he wants. Guilt toward myself for staying tied to the past and also for knowing that at some point, I need to move on. Guilt that I’m still able to live my life when Josh lost his, and I’m choosing not to.
Guilt is gray, dull, and it matches my outfit perfectly.
I quickly silence my phone when it rings and look around the office. No one even heard it. I try to see if the unfamiliar number rings a bell, but it doesn’t. I let it go to voicemail. If it’s important, they’ll leave a message.
Almost instantly I get a notification showing a new voicemail. Making a note to listen to it during my lunch break, I focus on work so I can leave a little earlier to make it to Liza’s office on time.
Between answering emails and working on the Sounds’ marketing, I continue to peek at my phone. Curiosity gets the best of me, and I play the message.
“Hi, Bri, it’s Wendy. Charlie’s wife. Widow? Anyway, I was wondering if you were free to get together sometime soon. I wanted to see how you were doing and just chat. Call me.”
I keep the phone to my ear even after she’s finished talking. Wendy. I haven’t thought about her in a few months.
I send her a text letting her know I’m at work and would love to get together. We make plans for tomorrow evening, yet I keep her on my mind all day. These months must’ve been hard for her, too. We could’ve dealt with this together. I could’ve checked in with her. After all, my husband died trying to save hers.
Charlie and Josh were the definition of Army bros. I hung out with Wendy a few times when Josh and Charlie were both here, but we didn’t keep touch after they passed. They have a child.
I shiver. That must be so much harder. The boy may not even remember his daddy. My lower lip trembles slightly, and I take a stabilizing breath. It could be comforting to see her. She knows what I’m going through.
After rushing to Liza’s office and grabbing something at the supermarket after, I’m finally home. Despite Liza’s encouraging words, my temper isn’t much better.
Liza didn’t flinch when I told her about Cole. It’s the first time I spoke about it to someone, and I was bothered that she had no reaction. I guess that’s the point of a therapist—unbiased opinion. She did mention that I would, one day, be ready to move on with my life and that could include another man. She wisely left out any names.
I crossed my arms and puffed, and she simply smiled. I hate that she’s so nice.
I sip from my glass of wine as I wait for my dinner to warm up. Nothing beats lasagna from our local market. After I eat, I take Dixie out for a walk instead of the usual backyard bathroom break. The fresh air swirls around me, cooling and calming me. I wrap my arms around my body as I hold the leash and guide Dixie down the sidewalk.
A million different scenarios for my meeting with Wendy cross my mind. One where we cry our eyes out as we remember our husbands. One where she’s over it and judges me for holding on to Josh. One where I bail and don’t show up. It could go so many ways, and the last option seems more and more plausible.
Olivia thought it was a good idea when I told her. She thinks talking to someone experiencing the same sort of loss would be helpful.
I can only help you so much, but I don’t know exactly how you’re feeling, she told me when we spoke earlier. No one knows what I’m feeling. We all mourn differently, but I do think it would be nice to talk to someone who won’t judge me, because they’ve been in my shoes. Who knows?
Instead of making it home to change before meeting Wendy, I have to rush over straight from work due to a meeting running longer than necessary. I open the doors to the restaurant and see her sitting at one of the front tables. I was afraid I wouldn’t recognize her after all these months, but the memory of a mourning Army wife stays with you forever.
“Hey, sorry I’m late,” I breathe out. I then chuckle. “Who am I kidding? I’m always late, but I am sorry.”
Wendy laughs. “It’s okay. I know work and traffic can be a hassle sometimes. How are you?” Her question is full of meaning.
Seated on the wooden chair, I smile. “I’m doing okay. I’m sure you know how it is. How about you?”
“Same. It’s been a tough adjustment. Brett’s doing okay. At first, he asked about his daddy, but he’s young still so…”
I nod. Kids are different. Their memories don’t last as long as ours when they’re so young. I know Charlie was away more than he was home. Unfortunately, not having him around is normal for Brett.
“That must be hard,” I say.
“It is, but life must go on, right?” She smiles softly.
“Yeah, I guess.”
We both order cocktails, justifying that we are celebrating our husbands and more than wine is required.
“So, tell me how you’re really doing,” Wendy says. “I’ve been meaning to call you, but between Brett and my own stuff, I kept forgetting. He started kindergarten this year. That was tough—dropping him off without Charlie. Knowing I couldn’t send Charlie pictures of Brett’s first day. Instead, I went to his grave and told him all about it. It helped.”
I bite my lower lip and nod. I haven’t even gone to visit Josh. My eyes water, but I manage to keep the tears from falling.
“I’m… you know.” I shrug. “I started seeing a grief counselor and she’s helping. I bought a puppy, which has been a blessing.”
“That’s a great idea.”
“Besides that, I haven’t been able to do much. Only recently I started spending time with my best friend again. I’ve gone out a couple times,” I add.
“It’s tough, Bri, but the best we can do is continue with our lives.”
I blink a few times. “Have you been able to?”
“In a way. It helps to have Brett because I can’t spend my days crying. I have a human depending on me to take care of him. The hardest was cleaning up all of Charlie’s stuff, but even that was therapeutic.”
“I haven’t been able to do that,” I confess.
“Oh, Bri. It’ll help. I promise. I know it’s difficult, and I kept a couple things I refused to get rid of. Everything else I donated. What girl doesn’t want a huge walk-in closet for herself?” she jokes.
“That’s the dream,” I respond lightly. However, I’d give away all my clothes and shoes to have Josh back in my life.
“Blogging has helped me.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I didn’t realize how healing it would be to share my emotions with people. I’ve had other Army wives reach out to me. Some who have lost their husbands and others who fear that reality.”
“Wow. That’s brave. A friend mentioned art therapy and I brushed it off.”
“You should try it. What does it hurt, right? So you lose a night painting on a canvas. Let’s be real, you’d probably spend it crying at home.” She gives me a pointed look. Spot on. “And maybe you’ll meet a cute guy, so long as he isn’t crazy,” she teases.
“Oh, no. I’m not there yet, Wendy.”
“It’s weird, isn’t it? Not being with them anymore,” she leans forward and whispers.
“Yeah.” I swallow back my emotions.
“My friends teased me, trying to get me to go out with their husbands’ friends. I’m not ready, though.”
“Me either. I can’t think about being with someone else.” Cole slips into my mind, but I can’t blame myself for that. I never dragged him along for this rollercoaster ride. He willingly climbed on, sans-seatbelt, and without my permission at first.
“You’re still young.”
“Come on, Wendy, so are you.” She can’t be more the three years older than me.
“Yeah, but I’ve got a son.” She looks away. I realize in this moment that Brett is a blessing and a burden. He keeps her moving, but he’s also a constant reminder that will always be present.
“Hey, thankfully you have a son. Josh and I were going to start trying when he got back.” I sniffle. “He was so excited to be a father.”
Wendy smiles.
“But, life happens, right?” I continue.
“It does. And you know what? God made us strong enough to survive it.”
“Hell, I’ll drink to that.” I raise my glass.
“Cheers,” Wendy says.
Wendy tells me more about her blog. I promise to check it out. Her words might help me, too. It’s comforting to talk to her, knowing she’s experienced the same loss as me. I can be more candid and vulnerable without feeling weak.
After dinner, we make plans to meet up again soon.
“Make sure to check out that art therapy class. It might be exactly what you’re looking for,” Wendy suggests.
“I might. Thank you.” I give her a hug and head home, exhausted.