The Way I Remember You

           Maggie pulled on my arms and I stood up, “Do you have to do this to me?”

            Maggie’s eyes darkened, “Yeah Rori, I do.  You need to get out of the house and this was the only thing I could think of to do.”

            My eyes started to unintentionally water and Maggie sighed, “Sweetie, you know I’m only doing this for your benefit.”

            I sniffed, “I know.  Really, I do but he’s only been gone for three months.” The familiar battle started again, “Why can’t I just curl up and let the world pass me by?”

            Maggie rolled her eyes, “Rori, for Godsakes, John wasn’t the be all and end all of men.”  I had lost my husband to cancer only three months before and this was Maggie’s way of entering me back into society.

            My head snapped up as I pulled my coat on, “You have no idea what John was so please back off!” My eyes glaring, “I came as a favor to you but I refuse to be bullied by your lack of sympathy.”  Maggie has been my best friend for over twenty years and I know she only wanted what’s right for me but I can’t help but feel pressure from all sides.  Everyone had been telling me that ‘life has to go on’ and that ‘John wouldn’t want you to isolate yourself.’

            Who really knew what John wanted?  I was closest to him.

            I left Maggie to lock up her car as I made my way to the club.  I always hated the ‘club’ atmosphere; it was always just too cool for me.  I married right out of college and settled down for a life with John.  Nights were spent in front of the TV or at the movies, not out dancing in a smoky room.  Some people think most of my young adulthood was wasted on John.  What do people know?

            The debate began in my head once again.  I volley between wanting to crawl under my covers to die and striving to be the person John wanted me to be.  I can still remember his bed-ridden monologues to me about what my life should be like after he died.

            We both knew he was going to die.  The doctors tried to remain optimistic but we both knew that there was little hope.  Cancer is something that is cured everyday.  We can cure over 90% of the diagnosed cancers today.  Figures that John would try to be different from everyone else.  I felt the hot, stinging in my eyes again.  I tried to fight them but I knew it was no use.  Three months into my broken life and the tears still came.  I doubt that they’ll ever stop.

            “Rori, please stop.”

            I turned around, trying to control the anger, “What?”

            “You’re acting like a spoiled brat.”

            “Excuse me?”

            “You heard me.  You know you weren’t the only one who lost John.  His parents haven’t taken it as hard as you.  Heck I miss him too.  I miss the late-night card games with you, John, Paul and I.”

            Why did she have to choose tonight, in the snow to start this fight again?  “It’s obvious that you are in a foul mood tonight so I’ll just head home.”

            I marched through the ankle-deep snow like a spoiled child.  I heard Maggie calling after me but I wasn’t about to turn around.  I’ll walk home before I’ll go back to you.  Even as my mind was thinking those mean things I knew she was right.

            This was not the first time I had gotten into a fight with a friend/co-worker/family member about what I should do with my life.  I don’t really understand why, when someone dies people immediately assume you are incapable of dealing with yourself.  I could understand it if I was young but I’m thirty-eight, not exactly defenseless.

            I was pondering the unfairness of the world when someone stepped out of the shadows to my left and held out a gloved hand.  I screamed and the hand jerked back.  Before I could think about it, my feet were carrying me toward the lights of the main street.  Running in the snow is hard enough but when you’re in heels it’s just that much harder.  I cursed Maggie once again as my ankle twisted.  Why did I pick tonight to wear nice shoes?

            I heard a mumbling behind.  A throaty, “Wait!” carried through the cacophony of the city.  Yeah, right, buddy!  What, so you can attack me for the twelve dollars I have in my purse?

            It was probably just someone looking for spare change so as I got closer to the main street, I reached into my pocket.  Without turning around, I threw all my change over my shoulder.  I remember thinking about which shoulder is the lucky one to throw salt over as I heard the change hit the snow and the shadowed figure.

            I slowed my pace to match that of other persons walking the street.  Ducking into a jewelry store, I tried to catch my breath.  I brushed the snow off of my boots and moved over to the glass cases.  As I pulled my hands out of my gloves, I fingered the diamond on my left hand.

            It’s not much but it’s what I wanted for you.  Rori, I love you.

            Oh it’s beautiful.  I’ll never take it off.

            Through eighteen years of fights, love, tenderness and strain it never came off my finger.  I wore a black ribbon around my finger the day John died but I couldn’t bring myself to slip off my ring.

I doubt I’ll ever date again.  John was my life.

            Sometimes when I am alone in my bed I realize that half of me is gone.  The hole in my heart gets bigger then.  I can never stop it but I feel the hole growing and blackening my world.  You never see the love of others when you have someone to share your love with.  Only after your love is gone do you see the happiness of others; it’s a bitter awareness.

            I felt a warm hand through my wool coat.  Turning around, I looked up to stare into immense, sorrowful brown eyes.  At least a week’s worth of stubble was crowding his face I noticed as my eyes moved toward the movement of his arm; downward past a dark sweater until I saw the gloved hand with several dollars worth of change in it.  That’s when I passed out.  I was told later that I screamed as I blacked out but I don’t remember doing that.

            My head started to clear and bright lights were invading my precious, peaceful sleep.  Since John died, sleep had been little more than closing my eyes to fight the memories.

            “She’s coming around.  Make room.”  A high, scratchy voice was talking.  I wanted to tell her to stop but couldn’t find the strength.  I felt movement around my head and opened my eyes a bit.  Fluorescent lighting streaked through my tired eyes and my eyelids dropped closed again.

            “Ma’am?” A male’s voice this time.  Go away!  I hated being called Ma’am too.  It always makes me feel like a grandmother.

            “Please don’t do that.”  I managed to pry my dry lips open enough to utter those words.

            The man got closer, “What?”

            I blinked; “Call me ma’am” A dark figure was now shielding my eyes from the harsh radiation of evil store lighting.  I’m in a store.  Little fragments of memory were coming back.  At the precise moment the shadowed figure moved in closer to hear me mumble I remembered that the shadowed figure was supposed to be a mass murderer.  I sat bolt upright…or would have if the shadowed figure hadn’t had his head in the way.  Ouch.

            The embarrassment of the situation was sinking into my mind and I just wanted to crawl underneath the icy tiling of the floor.

            “Uh…miss?”  The male voice was at it again.

            I smiled in spite of myself, “Yes?”  I hadn’t been called Miss in a long time.  It felt good.

            “You dropped some change earlier,” a knowing grin stretch across his worn mouth.

            I nervously looked around the crowd of people that had come to share in my misfortune, “Uh, thank you for the help.  Just a little exhaustion from the Christmas shopping.”  I tried to laugh it off but the herd of onlookers was not budging.  I took it upon myself to attempt standing.  A gentlemanly offer of help came from the man but I shrugged it off.  I was never good at swooning and acting the part of the damsel in distress.

            I wiped sweaty hands on my coat and tried in vain to appear calm.  My stomach was jumping as I looked over at my would-be attacker/savior.  With one eyebrow quirked upward I noticed that he would not be posing for fashion magazines in the near future.  The fisherman’s cap crammed down on his head hid a receding hairline if my guess was correct.  A ratty sweater that had seen better days back in the ‘90’s and jeans that looked like they had been dipped in motor oil completed the ensemble.  I refrained from sniffing the air around him but my guess was that he was rather odiferous.

            The man looked as nervous as I did and shifted his eyes around the room.  I followed his eyes, “Are you planning on stealing something?”  I smiled but my joke didn’t cross the room very well.

            He put his gloved hands in his pockets, “Nope.  Crowds make me nervous.”

            “Okay.  Well, thanks for…uh…helping, I guess.  Have a fun evening.”  I grabbed hold on my purse, smashed my gloves back on my hands and started for the door.

            “Wait!”  He lumbered toward me as if it took great effort.

            “Wait what?  I’m very busy!”  I tried to look important but only managed to look snotty.

            “I noticed that as you went running away from me like I had the plague.”

            I turned and rolled my eyes, “Well, most normal people don’t hang around outside in darken alleyways.”

            He thought about that for a moment, “I’ve never been normal.”  What is this guy on?

            “Uh…yeah.  Well, moving on.  Have a nice life.”  I opened the door and stepped into the falling snow again.

            I heard mumbling behind me but did not care to decipher the wording.

            Back in the word of memories that existed in my mind I started down the snow-covered streets.

            The ring on my finger was weighing my heart down but instead of going home to a cold house I headed back toward the club.  Better to face reality in the dark of night when you can go home and sleep it off after.

[Aurora879]