Page 71 of The Art of Dying

She laughed once, still staring at the floor. But her eyes began to fill with tears. “Of course he did. I knew if he left me, that’s how he’d go.”

Kitsch shook his head. “He didn’t want to leave you, Naomi. He didn’t have that much time to think. That’s just who he was.”

“I know,” she said. A tear fell down the bridge of her nose and escaped off the tip. She finally looked up from the floor, her gaze targeting Martinez. “You were there?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Martinez said.

“Did he suffer?”

Martinez paused and then slowly shook his head. “It was immediate.”

She nodded. “Okay… okay. That’s good.”

“There’s a doctor on base,” Trex began. “I’ve talked to him before, we all have. Matt, too. He can prescribe you something to help.”

Naomi looked straight at him. “Pills?”

Trex shrugged one shoulder. “They’ve helped a lot of people.”

“Pills don’t know how I like my eggs cooked. They can’t hold me at night or bring me a towel straight out of the dryer seconds before I finish my shower. Can they make me laugh like he could? Kiss me goodnight? I lost the love of my life, Trex. They don’t have a pill for that.”

At midnight, everyone waved goodbye, and I walked outside with Kitsch, hugging him tight before he left to pick up the kids. I turned on my heels and took a breath before returning to the couch.

“You don’t have to stay,” Naomi said.

“I know.”

“I should uh… I should take a shower.”

“Okay.”

Naomi left for the bathroom. The pipes squealed just before water began pelting the shower curtain. I was alone for half an hour and then I walked over to the door, gently knocking. “Naomi? Do you need anything?”

The shower turned off, and a minute later, she opened the door wearing Matt’s robe. She was fresh-faced, her skin pink and shiny, but her under eyes were stained with residual mascara, the skin around them puffy and red.

“Pills can’t hold you at night, but your best friend can.”

Naomi managed a half-smile and then she took my hand, leading me to the bedroom. She paused in front of the bed, stared at Matt’s side for a few moments and then crawled in, leaving her side open for me. He didn’t spend much time there, only a night or two before and after deployment. His nightstand had only a lamp and one picture frame protecting a photo of them at their wedding. He was bending her back, kissing her in the desert, behind them a huge explosion. I snuggled up behind her, holding her tight.

She sniffed once. “Karen?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think I’m okay… and I don’t think I’m going to be.”

Her voice was quiet, small. Nothing like her at all.

Naomi was exceptionally tough and unbothered, so much that others forgot she needed to be saved sometimes, too. But as strong and confident as she was, without her husband, Naomi was a broken sword. Her edges would be sharper, so I decided to choose my words carefully.

“You will, honey. Just in a different way. And not anytime soon. But I promise, you will.”

I felt her hold her breath for several seconds before she gasp, finally releasing a guttural cry. She sobbed. She screamed. She wept quietly and then the cycle started over. She cried for hours, exhausting herself until she finally quieted down and fell asleep.

I held her close until the sunrise peeked through the blinds, until the shadows fell down the walls, until someone knocked on the door.

Kitsch called quietly from the front room.

“Mack?”

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