Lu comes into the store shortly before closing later the same evening, completely throwing me off guard and surprising me. She wasn’t supposed to be in at all today. It was my first full day solo run of the joint.
“Hey, Lu, what brings you by tonight?”
Instead of answering she sets a bottle of wine on the counter, a vase full of flowers made from—are those made from book pages? —and a rectangular shaped gift box. “This wine is for you, Tenley. Actually, everything is for you. But…” She hesitates to continue. The expression on her face scares me, in fact it causes me to stop lifting one of the flowers to inspect it further. What the hell is going on? Why is she bringing me wine and gifts on the eve of what would’ve been Michael’s birthday?
“Well, um, thanks? I guess?” Yes, I’m questioning this. Who wouldn’t? This is all extremely strange.
She still hasn’t finished her thought, not verbally anyway. She’s staring at me with what looks like tears starting to glisten in her pretty irises.
“Spit it out, Lu. You’re scaring the heck out of me,” I demand.
“I’ve had a touch over two years to prepare for this day, you’d think I’d be ready. Truth is, I’m not. I’m terrified, Tenley. This wine, these flowers, the gift box, all of this,” she makes a gesture to include everything she’s placed before me on the counter, “is from Michael.” She blurts the last three words out so fast it comes out all marbled.
What did she say? There’s no way I could’ve heard her correctly, even with the mumbles. She must be mistaken. One glance at her proves I’ve heard her correctly. This is from Michael.
All of a sudden, the room around me begins to spin.
The colors blur.
The floor drops out from under my feet.
I’m met with nothing but blackness.
It greets me like a warm hug from a long-lost friend.
Waking with a start, I feel something cool and wet has been placed upon my forehead. I’m surrounded by blackness, but it feels like a familiar blackness. Taking another moment, I feel the bed beneath me and know I’m safe. Instantly, I know I’m in my own bedroom. Moving to sit up—I feel dizzy—and I swiftly lie back down.
“Don’t get up, baby girl. Whatever you need, I’ll get for you,” Mama says from where she’s sitting in the corner chair. If I wasn’t already lying back, her voice coming at me from the darkness would’ve made me fall backward from fright.
“What happened, Mama?” Obviously, I know I passed out. It’s what happened after that’s fuzzy in my head.
“Well, for starters Luellen brought you home. She had a gift for you from Michael. Surprising us all, mind you. It’s here whenever you’re ready to deal with it. She said when she gave you the news, you fainted. She had a heck of a time getting you in the car and bringing you home. Scared us all when she came speeding into the driveway, honking and hollering out the window for your daddy,” Mama informs me.
Sounds like quite the spectacle was made. The neighbors probably loved watching every second of it unfold. The gossips will be in heaven come dawn while sipping their morning coffee.
“I’m sorry. About all of it. It sure couldn’t have been easy for anyone. On the other hand, it’s not like I planned on fainting. It’s not every day a girl gets a gift from her dead husband,” I say.
“Baby girl, don’t you go apologizing for anything. You did nothing wrong. We’re all concerned because you gave us all a fright. We’re happy all you did was faint. You could’ve hit your head, or who knows what else? Thankfully, you didn’t. Now, what can your mama get for you?” she asks.
Reaching over, she turns on the bedside lamp, grabs the wet cloth from my forehead, and places a kiss upon my balmy cheek.
“What time is it?” I inquire.
“Shortly after eleven.”
My stomach chooses the moment to grumble. It’s been ignored practically all day.
“Could I have something to eat? It could be why I fainted as well as from the shock. I haven’t eaten anything since around lunchtime.”
“Sure, baby girl. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
What is in that box?
Reaching for it, I see in Michael's neat handwriting ‘Open on May 21’, well it’s almost midnight, technically it is practically his birthday. Besides, it’s not like he’s around to give me flack for opening it early. As I’m lifting up the card, mama walks back into my bedroom carrying a sandwich and a glass of water.
“I didn’t want to bring you anything heavy, hence the turkey sandwich and some water. I hope it’s okay.”
“It’s more than okay, thank you. If you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone now. Open whatever it is Michael has left for me. It’s almost midnight and I’m curious to see what it is he’s gifted me. Where are the flowers? Did you see they’re made from books?” I ask.
“Um, the flowers are in the kitchen, sitting on the island. They’re beautiful. And they’re not made from any old books. They’re made from your books. There’s information about the woman who makes them; I left it on the cupboard as well. She may have some answers for you. I love you, Tenley. Holler if you need me.” She presses another quick kiss to my cheek and briskly leaves my bedroom.
Quickly eating the sandwich and draining the glass of water, I open the bottle of wine and pour myself a glass. Downing it in two quick gulps, I pour myself another, knowing whatever he’s left is going to take this bottle of wine as courage for me to open. I’m deep into my third glass before I reach for the box. Lifting the lid, I take a deep breath.
You can do this, Tenley.
Gasping, I drop the box and pull the letter from inside.
He’s left me a letter and books. From the looks of it, a lengthy letter and several books he must’ve thought I’d enjoy. Taking a deep breath, I begin to read.
My Dearest Tenley,
Today would’ve been my 37th birthday. We should be well on our way to the south of France to start celebrating. I’m deeply sorry we’re not. So fucking sorry. I do hope you’re smiling. Fuck, baby, I miss your beaming smile. You may be asking why I waited this long to give you this letter, and well there’s a few reasons.
Mainly, I wanted you to have at least started to move on. By now, I figure you’ve fully grieved me. Or at the very least, are nearly done.
Go ahead, call me a selfish prick, I know you want to. I’ll give you a few minutes…
Feel better? All right.
Now let’s move forward. If you don’t already hate me, you will by the time you finish reading this letter. It’s okay though, I’m planning on you hating me. In fact, you may want some wine to finish reading this. Lu should’ve given you a bottle with the gifts. Knowing you like I do, you’ve probably already opened it and drank a glass or two before starting my letter. Which is fantastic because like I said, you’re going to need it. If you haven’t, pour some now and use a heavy hand.
My death wasn’t an accident.
It was suicide.
But before you go blaming yourself or thinking the worst, let me explain. I had a valid reason.
I was sick, baby.
Remember how I started getting those horrible migraines? Well, they weren’t ordinary migraines. When I went to have the MRI test done our doctor ordered, I lied to you about the results when they came in.
The doctor found a tumor on my brain.
Not wanting to scare you, I kept it from you until I could find out more information. No matter what I found out, the news was never any better. Every single thing I found out made things worse and worse. My future grimmer. The week before my suicide, the doctors told me there was no cure. The cancer had spread throughout my whole body. It wasn’t only about a brain tumor anymore. The tumor was inoperable to begin with.
I had a Secondary Astrocytoma Stage 4 Cerebral tumor. Fancy name, huh? Leave it to me to get something this...fucked up.
When I said goodbye to you the last morning, I truly was saying goodbye. If you wondered why I insisted on making love before leaving, now you know. I knew it was the last time I’d ever see your beautiful face. The last time I’d ever gaze into your aqua blue eyes. Or run my fingers through your whiskey colored tresses. Smell your unique scent of ocean and lemons.
I’m leaving several gifts with Luellen.
The flowers were made from the pages of your books, Tenley. An artist I’d met in the online book community designed them and made them for you. Her name is Gloria. She owns a business named Blooming Books. Look her up, she’ll be waiting to hear from you. I’ve left her information with the flowers.
The books are some I picked out for you. A few you may have read by now, maybe not. But I know how much you love words and wanted you to have several books to enjoy throughout the rest of the year.
Please forgive Lu for keeping this a secret. She doesn’t know I was sick. She was sworn to secrecy without knowing why.
Please don’t hate me for leaving you, Tenley.
I have loved you since the moment you plowed me over in the airport. And I have loved you every day since I left you. I’ll love you forever.
Please find happiness again. Don’t hide your beautiful smile from the world.
I’ll be loving you forever.
Michael
Oh.
Shit.
Oh.
God.
What in the hell did I read?
Michael committed suicide?
My Michael killed himself?
Because he was dying?
My Michael was sick?
He had an incurable cancer?
Basically, the doctors gave him a death sentence and he never fucking told me.
Me. His own damn wife. Supposedly, the other half of his soul.
How could he have done this to me? Why would he have done this to me? There’s a river of tears streaming down my face and I’m helpless to stop them. They’re staining the pages of Michael’s confession to me.
Screaming out in frustration, I throw his letter across the bed, whip the covers from my body, and throw my glass against the wall, shattering it into a thousand tiny pieces.
Now at least my heart isn’t the only thing that’s broken.
Grabbing the bottle of wine, I down the rest of the contents straight from the bottle. “Fucking coward. He was a stupid fucking coward.” I’m repeating it over and over again when my mother knocks on my door.
“Tenley, are you all right? We heard screaming. And a glass breaking?” she questions.
Am I all right? Hell, no, I’m not. My husband committed damn suicide. He took the easy way out. He lied to me for months before he crashed his brother’s plane into the stupid ocean. I’m fucking dandy, life’s a giant fat fun parade. I’m happier than a pig in a huge pile of shit. Why don’t you come on in and join the party?
But I don’t say any of it. Instead, I slump down against my closed bedroom door and cry. Deep, painful sobs rack through my body. The knob turns and I feel the door getting pushed from the other side, but it doesn’t give; she’s trying to force her way in but can’t get to me.
“I-I-I’m okay.” It’s all I can manage through my tears.
Nearly an hour later, after all my tears have dried, I remember seeing he left a second letter. Pulling myself up off the floor, I reach for the box containing his letter, ripping open the envelope, I quickly scan the contents.
My Dearest Tenley,
This one isn’t much of a letter, it’s more a note.
After the bombshell I left you with in the first one, I wanted to leave you with something a little less…heavy.
You’re…
SEXY
EXQUISITE
GORGEOUS
SEDUCTIVE
STUNNING
BEAUTIFUL
PROVOCATIVE
STRIKING
FUCKABLE
And anything else you can think of I’ve ever called you since the day I first laid my eyes on you.
All my love,
Michael
Well, at least this one leaves me with the hint of a grin and not tears of anger.
I’ll also never let anyone read this one...ever. It’s way too personal. If he didn’t call me ‘fuckable’ maybe, but it’s a big maybe. Michael always was a tad dirty. It’s one of the details I loved most about him. He looked like the most respectable man, but had a mouth made for sin.
Glancing at my bedside clock, I see it’s nearly 2 a.m. If I’m going to keep my plans with my parents in the morning, I better try to get some sleep. The last thoughts I can remember thinking before drifting off to sleep on the floor are, “Happy Birthday, my love.”