Chapter 25
Lydia
After two full days of making Mickey Mouse our bitch, everyone is now relaxing at our hotel pool for a couple hours before heading back to the park this evening for the Electric Light Parade. At the moment, Darren’s father, John, is trying to teach Theo the butterfly stroke with no visible signs of success. My parents are enthusiastically re-enacting scenes from The Little Mermaid with Izzy and Bea in the shallow end. And I’m reclined on a lounger with Darren’s mother, Michelle, watching the kids, drinking wine, and feeling distinctly like there’s a boa constrictor wrapped around my chest.
Has my mother-in-law sharply regressed with respect to her grief about Darren? Or have I progressed so much in my healing in recent months I’ve left her in the dust? Either way, she seems as raw and tormented and stuck in her grief as ever, and I’m finding that extremely hard to be around. Should I be feeling as tormented as she is? Am I betraying Darren by feeling so happy lately? And, most of all, am I betraying Darren by constantly wishing Colby were here with us this weekend? Because that’s what I’ve been doing. Wishing Colby were here.
Darren’s mother takes a long sip of her wine. “Watching John with Theo in that pool is bringing back so many memories of John with Darren. Those two used to spend hours and hours in our backyard pool together, just like those two. I’d sit and watch them and smile from ear-to-ear.”
I twirl the wedding ring I put back on my left hand Thursday night, right before meeting Darren’s parents in our hotel lobby, and say, “Well, that certainly explains why Darren was such a fantastic swimmer.”
“Darren wasn’t just a fantastic swimmer. He was fantastic at everything he ever tried.”
I nod, even though the statement is patently ridiculous. Darren was fantastic at a whole lot, don’t get me wrong—but there were at least a couple things he royally sucked at. But, clearly, that’s not something I’d ever say to his mother. Not back when he was alive, and certainly not now when he’s become elevated in her mind to saint status.
Michelle continues, “Darren would have loved being here with us all so much. Don’t you keep wishing he were here?”
I nod again.
And I’m telling the truth. I’ve honestly wished Darren were here at least twenty times since we arrived late Thursday night... but I’ve also wished Colby were here, as well, just as many times, if not more. And realizing that is suddenly making me feel like I’m going to vomit. How can I possibly wish both Darren and Colby were here?
“Darren would have adored seeing Izzy’s and Bea’s faces when they met Jasmine today,” Michelle says. “Wasn’t that a wonderful moment?”
“It was amazing,” I manage to say, despite the boa constrictor increasing the pressure around my chest.
“And he would have loved seeing Izzy on Space Mountain. Oh my gosh! Her little shrieks were so adorable.”
My palms feel clammy. My skin is hot. When Izzy screamed with glee on Space Mountain today, I didn’t think, “Oh, how I wish Darren were here!” Actually, in that moment, I distinctly remember thinking “Oh, how I wish Colby were here!” But that was only because Colby had expressly told me Space Mountain is his favorite ride and I happen to know for a fact that Darren’s was always Pirates of the Caribbean... Oh, God. I seriously feel like I’m going to barf from the pangs of guilt I’m suddenly feeling.
“I miss him so much,” Darren’s mother says, her voice breaking. “Every single day, it’s a struggle to get out of bed.”
I grab her hand. “I miss him, too,” I say. “So much.” But I don’t add, “It’s a daily struggle for me to get out of bed, too.” Because, in truth, it’s not. For almost two years, yeah, it was. But this past year, I’ve honestly found it quite easy to get out of bed every day. I’ve been excited about my life. Indeed, for the past month, ever since I met Colby, I can honestly say I’ve leaped out of bed every day, feeling almost drugged with excitement and joy. Is it wrong of me to feel happy? Should I still be feeling depressed?
“You still miss him?” Michelle asks, shocking me. In three effing years, she’s never once asked me that question. What the hell? She doubts I still miss Darren?
“Of course I do,” I say, finding it hard to breathe. “Darren was the love of my life, Michelle.”
My mother-in-law nods. And then promptly breaks down in tears.
I move to Michelle’s lounger and hug her. But, honestly, my stomach is churning. Should I be on the verge of tears at all times like Darren’s mom? Should I still be dreaming of Darren every single night? Because, truthfully, I’ve been dreaming about Colby quite a bit lately. And, sometimes, my dreams are awfully steamy. Other times, Colby’s simply standing there in my dream and I say to him, “You’re out of your wheelchair, Colby!” And then we both scream happily and dance around. And then there are the dreams where Colby is sitting at the dinner table with me and my kids, or pushing Bea on a swing, or taking my evening jog around my neighborhood with me—and I feel overcome with serenity and joy. But, yeah, mostly, Colby’s naked in my dreams and fucking me hard, or licking between my legs and making me moan in ecstasy...
“I have to admit,” Michelle says, having regained her composure. “Spending so much time with Theo these past two days has been hard. A joy, obviously, but difficult, too. Theo makes all of Darren’s exact facial expressions. Have you noticed that? God, he reminds me so much of Darren.”
I look at Theo in the pool. I’ve always thought of Theo as Darren’s mini-me, even though, of course, he’s got my skin, hair, and lips. “Yeah, he definitely inherited Darren’s facial expressions and mannerisms.”
“I love the way Theo’s nose crinkles when he laughs,” Michelle says. “Just like Darren.”
Memories of Darren’s laughter flood me in a torrent and my eyes fill with tears.
Michelle grabs my hand and smiles. Clearly, she’s heartened to see me crying.
“It’s all right, love,” she says, patting my hand. “I’m here for you, sweetie. We’ll just get through this together, as we always have.”
Tears spill out of my eyes. “I almost broke down when we were in line for the teacups today,” I admit. “John smiled and winked at me, and he reminded me so much of Darren in that moment, I almost totally lost it.”
My mother-in-law’s smile widens. “I know, sweetie. Why do you think I’m having such a tough time? I have to live with John every day and he’s Darren’s spitting image. Every single day, I see the man Darren should have become thirty years from now. Every day I think, ‘That’s what Darren would have looked like if he’d lived long enough to walk Izzy and Bea down the aisle.’”
Okay, that does it. I cover my face and bawl.
Michelle hugs me, cooing at me the whole time. She kisses the side of my head. “It’s all right, love. I know, honey. It’s just so hard.”
Finally, I pull myself together and wipe my eyes. I haven’t cried like this in a full year. I don’t feel like myself right now. I feel sick. Weak. Shriveled. Goddammit, I’ve been doing so well lately! And now I feel like I’m falling apart again. Why is she dragging me back to this dark place?
“I noticed you’re still wearing your wedding ring, sweetheart,” Darren’s mother says.
I reflexively look down. I’m not sure why I moved it back to my left hand on Thursday night, other than I instinctively didn’t want Darren’s parents doubting my eternal love for their son.
“I’m so glad to see it,” Michelle continues. She pats my hand again. “It means the world to me to know you’re still so devoted to him, Lydia. I know Darren’s looking down on you and thanking you for keeping his memory alive.”
I feel physically ill. Confused. Riddled with self-doubt. Guilty.
Michelle sips her wine. “So I take it you haven’t dated anyone since Darren passed?”
I swallow hard. Does feeling like you’re falling in love with a stunningly gorgeous man count as “dating” him? I shake my head, too overwhelmed to speak.
“Not even a date?” Michelle says. “Not even a kiss?”
I shake my head again, my stomach churning. “Nothing.”
“Oh, Lydia.” My mother-in-law puts her hand on her heart. “I always used to say this about you to Darren behind your back, but I’ll say it to your face now: You’re the most devoted and faithful wife Darren could have chosen. Thank the lord you care as much as I do about keeping Darren’s memory alive. Thank the lord.”