Someone Like You: Wild Widows Series, Book 1 Page 20

  Thank God for them. I say it a hundred times a day, but it’s so true. I never would’ve survived losing Vic without them. I’m glad to know Roni has a strong family supporting her, too. Not all the Wild Widows are lucky that way, and I can see how much harder it is for them without that support system.

  “I notice there’s one pending for Mr. Connolly, as well. Do you want to pick that up, too?”

  I have no idea what to say. “I, uh, sure. I’ll take them both.”

  “Very good.”

  She rings me up, I pay for the two prescriptions as well as the items I got for Roni, and head back to her place. If there’s one good thing about weekends in the District, street parking tends to be slightly easier than it is during the week. I find a spot and am about to use the key in the door to her building when Mrs. Eastwood opens it.

  “I was hoping to see you again, young man,” she says. “I’m not sure if you’re aware of what our Roni has been through, but she’s not ready to have men visiting her.”

  “With all due respect, ma’am, I’m a friend and colleague of hers. I did her a favor because she’s been sick. I don’t think she’d appreciate you speaking for her.”

  The woman doesn’t like that. “We care about her. What she’s been through is just awful.”

  “Yes, it is, and a lot of people care about her. I’m sure she appreciates your concern, but I need to get back upstairs. She’s waiting for her medicine.”

  “Young man?”

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Take good care of her.”

  “I will.”

  I continue up the stairs, feeling the heat of her stare on my back. I know she means well, but Jesus, do the words mind your own business mean anything to her? Although, she’s just looking out for Roni, and I can’t blame her for that.

  She’s asleep on the sofa when I get back, so I quietly stash the ice cream in her freezer and put the other things on the counter for her to find later. I’m not sure if I should stay or go, but I want to hear from her that she’s okay before I leave. So I stretch out on the other sofa, find the remote, turn on the TV and mute it with the Washington game on.

  As I look around at her apartment, I’m struck by how unique and eclectic it is, a mix of modern and antique that works together in perfect harmony that I could’ve never achieved. Either Roni or her husband, perhaps both, had a flair for decorating.

  I notice the framed wedding picture on the table next to the sofa where she’s sleeping and move in for a closer look at two happy people on the best day of their lives. Patrick was handsome, smiling, thrilled with his life and his bride. But Roni… She’s a stunning bride, but that’s not what really sticks out to me. I realize I’ve never seen her look like she does in that picture, full of the kind of unfettered joy that hasn’t been touched by unspeakable tragedy. I hope that maybe someday she’ll again look as happy as she did on her wedding day.

  I return to the other sofa, finding myself unbearably sad for two people I never knew as a couple, and especially for the one who’s left to put her life back together into some new version that she never wanted.

  I close my eyes, just for a minute or so, I tell myself…

  18

  Roni

  When I wake up, the room has gone dim with late-afternoon light, and I’m surprised to see Derek out cold on the other sofa. I sit up slowly, wait for my head to quit spinning and get up slowly to use the bathroom. I go to the kitchen to get a glass of water and see the bag that Derek left on the counter, full of treats, medicine, magazines and soup.

  He’s too sweet.

  I open the box of cherry-flavored lozenges and pop one in my mouth for instant relief from an intensely sore throat. In the bag from the pharmacy, I find my prescription and another one for… Oh my God, it’s for Patrick.

  My brain races to recall what it was for, and then I remember the rash on his back that erupted two days before he died. He’d been to the doctor the day before but hadn’t yet picked up the prescription.

  I stare at that bottle for the longest time, stunned that a prescription can bring on such a wave of grief. In our last days together, Patrick complained incessantly about how itchy the rash was. I ran him an Epsom salt bath and put cortisone on it for him, but when nothing helped, he went to the doctor. I completely forgot about that until now, and I’m gutted by the reminders of those last moments of normalcy.

  “They told me there was one for him, too.” Derek’s voice startles me out of the memories. “I wasn’t sure if I should get it or not.”

  “He had a rash before he died and was miserable. I didn’t know he hadn’t picked up the prescription.”

  “I wasn’t sure what to do.”

  “It’s okay. Just brings back memories of those last minutes of normal life, you know?”

  “I do. For me, it was the laundry I discovered in the washer several days after Maeve and I were back in the house. It had gone smelly after days of sitting there wet, but it was a slap in the face to realize what Vic had been doing right before disaster struck. Just normal, everyday things.”

  “It’s so strange how the most innocuous things can bring it all back.”

  “You just never know what it’s going to be.” He puts his hands on the counter and stretches. “How’re you feeling?”

  “A little better. My throat is still super sore, and my head is all fuzzy.”

  “I wanted to stay to make sure you’re okay before I go. Hope that’s okay.”

  “Of course. You can stay as long as you want to. I like the company.”

  “You feel like something to eat?”

  “What do you want?”

  “Pizza?”

  “That sounds good to me.” She gasps. “I never gave you my card to pay for the prescriptions!”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “I will worry about it. I’m paying for the pizza for you and soup for me.”

  “If you insist.”

  “I do.”

  We order the pizza and soup and settle on the sofa to watch the game, and it all feels easy, like we’ve been hanging out together for years. As soon as I acknowledge that comfort, I feel guilty to be sitting in the home I created with Patrick, enjoying the company of another man. Grief is such a bitch that way. She gives you a moment of contentment and then sprinkles some guilt on top to make sure you can’t fully enjoy it.

  Each of my family members checks on me, all of them offering to come stay with me. I decline their offers and assure them I’m okay.

  Rebecca wants to know if my friend Derek is with me.

  I don’t respond to that text, and I’m not sure why. We’re not doing anything wrong, but it still feels strange to admit, even to my sister, that he’s here.

  After Washington loses badly to the Saints, we end up watching An Officer and a Gentleman until we’re both yawning our heads off.

  “I should go,” he says, stretching.

  “Thanks for hanging out.”

  “It was fun.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “You want to hear a true confession?”

  “Sure.”

  “I really enjoyed a few days off from fatherhood, and I feel like a jerk for even saying that.”

  “You shouldn’t feel bad about that. I’m sure it’s very intense.”

  “She’s a delight. I’d never say otherwise.”

  “I know.”

  “As much as I enjoy just about every minute with her, I also enjoy the breaks my parents are always willing to give me.”

  “Thank goodness for them.”

  “You know it. Yours will be the same, I’m sure.”

  I get up to walk him to the door, feeling a little steadier on my feet than I did earlier. “They will. They love being grandparents.”

  “You should take every break you’re offered. You’ll need it.”

  “That I’ll be raising a child alone still feels too big for my brain to process.”

  “That’s just it, tho
ugh. You won’t be alone. You’ll be surrounded by a village, and that will make all the difference.”

  “Sam told me I can bring the baby to work. Her friend Shelby has a nanny that we can share, if the nanny agrees, that is.”

  “That’s amazing. It’ll be great to have him or her close by, especially the first year. Maeve and I will show you all the best playgrounds. We’ve done a ton of research and have our favorites.”

  “I’ll look forward to that.”

  As smoothly as can be, he kisses me on the cheek. “Call me if you need anything during the night.”

  “I’ll be okay.”

  “If you’re not, call me.”

  “I will. Thanks again for everything.”

  “My pleasure.”

  After he leaves, I lock up, noticing how quiet the apartment is now that I’m alone again. On the way to my room, I stop to flip on the light in the guest bedroom we lovingly put together for Patrick’s parents and siblings. We wanted them to be able to visit us whenever they wanted to. I suppose I’ll need to transform that room into a nursery for the baby, a task that seems so big to me that I quickly turn off the light and save that thought for when I’m not feeling like shit.

  I get in bed and send a text to Lilia, telling her about my weekend stay in the hospital and how I’m not ready to come back to work.

  Oh my goodness, she says. Take good care of yourself and let me know if you need anything.

  What a sweetheart she is. Thank you, I reply, but I’m okay. Just feel like I got hit by a bus!

  Take as much time as you need. I’ll check on you tomorrow.

  Thanks again.

  I make sure the alarm on my phone is off and snuggle into bed, looking forward to sleeping in on a workday. For a long time, I’m awake, thinking about what used to be, what is and what’s to come. My dreams are a scattered mess of Patrick, Derek, babies, Maeve, the White House. When I wake in the middle of the night, sweating and gasping, it occurs to me that my new life shows up in dreams much more often than my “old” life these days.

  That makes me sad.

  I’m moving away from Patrick.

  I never wanted to do that. Not ever.

  But that choice was taken from me in the most random way possible, and now… God, it’s just so hard to look forward to a future that doesn’t include him. It’s hard to have made this new friend in Derek and to have to feel guilty about enjoying his company because I still feel married to a man who’s gone forever.

  Ah, yes, widow brain. I remember that coming up at the meeting. Not only does widow brain make you feel scattered and forgetful, it also spins you into these never-ending circles of despair followed by a burst of optimism, followed by an even deeper pit of despair topped off with a dollop of joy. And that’s all in five minutes. It’s no wonder that people experiencing deep grief often feel like they’re losing what’s left of their minds as they take an out-of-control roller-coaster ride that no one would sign on for willingly.

  My friendship with Derek has helped. I can’t deny that. I can talk to him about things others in my life wouldn’t understand, such as the conundrum over wedding rings. He gives me hope that I’m going to get through this unbearable loss and figure out a new life for myself and my child.

  It won’t happen overnight, but Derek is proof that it will happen.

  I had no idea how much I needed that proof in my life until he became part of it.

  The simmering attraction between us adds another level to the mix, one I’m not ready to explore yet, but it’s nice to know I can feel a spark for someone other than the only man I’ve ever loved. I’ve just got to put that spark on ice for right now. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us to let that happen when I know I’m not ready.

  I spend the next day lying around, watching TV, napping and not doing much of anything else. My brain refuses to engage in anything other than mindless tasks.

  Derek texts after work to see if I need anything.

  I’m good thanks to you and the soup run. What did I miss today at work?

  Another day in paradise spent trying to get fighting members of Congress to work together. Good times as always.

  Better you than me.

  You know it! People say I’m good at dealing with them, but some days I want to tell them to grow up and stop acting more immature than my toddler.

  I’d pay to see that show.

  Haha, it’s a SHIT show ninety percent of the time.

  How’s Maeve?

  Perfectly fine. I guess her immune system is far more robust than ours.

  Glad to hear it. I’d hate to think of her having this. It’s miserable.

  Is your throat still bad?

  Better than it was, but still not great.

  So another day off tomorrow?

  I think so. I’m still like a newborn kitten over here. Can’t do much of anything. This plague hit me hard.

  Take it easy.

  No choice about that.

  I’ll check on you tomorrow. Call me if you need anything.

  Thank you.

  Sure thing. Driving to work is less fun without you. Get well soon.

  I respond with a smiley-face emoji as my heart flutters from his sweet words. I’m so lucky to have made such a lovely new friend, and I hope he’ll still be around if and when I get to the point where I might be ready for my Chapter 2.

  19

  Roni

  Winter finally gives way to spring…

  In late April, Derek, Maeve and I spend a Sunday in Ocean City with Iris and her kids. Derek drives Iris’s minivan so we can all go together. The day is unseasonably warm, allowing us to spend a relaxing afternoon on the beach. While Iris and I laze in the sun in beach chairs, Derek and the kids build an elaborate sandcastle. He’s great about including each of the kids by giving them age-appropriate tasks to complete.

  Iris’s kids hang on his every word and light up with pleasure when he praises them.

  “They’re like sponges for paternal love,” Iris comments. “They’re like that with Mike’s brother, too. All over him like ants at a picnic. Bless his heart. He comes almost every Saturday and spends the entire day with them. I’m so thankful to him for the commitment he’s made to them.”

  “It’s lovely of him to do that.”

  “He and Mike were soul mates. Losing him has been as hard on his brother as it’s been on me. Rob was supposed to be on the flight with Mike that day, but bailed at the last minute because he’d met a woman he really liked. That guilt has eaten him up ever since.”

  “But he would’ve died, too.”

  “There are times when I think he’d prefer that to having to go on without Mike. They were eleven months apart in age and did everything together.”

  “That’s so sad. Did he stay with the woman?”

  Iris shakes her head. “He said he couldn’t look at her after Mike died.”

  “God, why does life have to be so unbearably hard sometimes?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s also wonderful.” She gestures to Derek, who’s now being buried by four enthusiastic kids. “The friends I’ve made since Mike died are some of the best I’ve ever had.”

  “Same for me since Patrick died. Brielle checks on me every day. Joy has brought me dinner a few times and then stayed with me so I wouldn’t have to eat alone. She makes me laugh so hard.”

  “She’s an awesome friend.”

  “Yes, she is. All the Wild Widows are wonderful.”

  “Even Aurora?” Iris asks, brow raised.

  “She’d grown on me before she stopped coming to the meetings.”

  “The poor thing had her heart set on Derek, even though he never gave her any reason to think that way.” Iris glances my way. “He never looked at her the way he does you.”

  “Stop.”

  “I’m serious. He’s into you big-time.”

  I shift my gaze to where he’s playing with the kids, having busted out of the sand to chase them around. Iris’s young
est child, two-year-old Laney, is screaming with delight as he catches her and swings her up in the air while the others trail behind, waiting for their turn.

  My heart can’t handle the surge of emotion I experience as I watch him with Maeve and Iris’s three fatherless children.

  “He’s a special guy,” Iris says softly.

  “Yes, he is.”

  “What’re you going to do about him?”

  “I don’t know yet. It feels too soon to be thinking about questions like that.”

  “Even if you see him every day?”

  “Even if.”

  “I think he has his heart set on you, Roni.”

  “I think so, too, and I adore him. I really do. I’m just not ready for it to be more than close friendship.”

  “Can I ask one favor?”

  “Of course.”

  “If you think it’s not going to happen for you—ever—will you tell him sooner rather than later? I couldn’t stand to see him hurt.”

  “I promise I will, but the last thing I want is for him to not be in my life.”

  “That’s telling.”

  “I think so, too. He never puts any pressure on me for it to be anything more than what it is right now, and I so appreciate that.”

  “But you know he wants more.”

  She says that as a statement and not a question. “Yes, I do.” With my hand on the curve of my pregnant belly, I look over at her. “I’m focused on growing this tiny human and preparing for the birth while holding down a busy, demanding, high-profile job. That’s all I’m capable of now. Derek understands that.”

  “Have you talked about it?”

  “Not in so many words, but I feel like we understand each other.”

  “Maybe you should talk about it. If you want him there when you decide you’re ready for more, it might not hurt to tell him that.”

  “We’ll see if I get the chance.”

  When the little ones start to tire, we clean them up as best we can using the showers at the beach and then take them to a seafood restaurant on the boardwalk. I have broiled scallops that give me heartburn, but then again, everything gives me heartburn as my pregnancy progresses.