Page 1 of The Unraveling of Julia

1

Julia knew something terrible was about to happen. Her knowing wasn’t conscious, but something she sensed and couldn’t acknowledge, even to herself. It felt like dread, but she’d never dreaded anything likethis. Reflexively she tucked her arm under her husband’s as they walked down the street. It was dark and almost midnight, since they’d gone to dinner late.

Julia glanced over her shoulder, nervous even in the exclusive Rittenhouse Square neighborhood. No one was behind them. Twenty-First Street was lined with tall Victorian row houses converted to apartments, and TVs inside flickered like lightning strikes. Only a few people were out, hurrying home as they talked into earbuds, conversing with the night.

“You okay, babe?” Mike asked, leaning toward her. His hands were in the pockets of his overcoat, and he had on a suit since he’d been in court that day. His red hair caught a gust of cold wind, and freckles dotted his face like constellations.

“I’m fine, let’s go.” Julia couldn’t explain a feeling she didn’t understand. Their street was only steps away. Home was just around the corner.

“What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know, I feel… scared,” Julia answered, and as soon as the words escaped her lips, she knew the terrible thing was going to happenright now.

Suddenly a man came around the corner, blocking their path. A blue hoodie shadowed his face. He had on a black down jacket and jeans. In his hand was a large hunting knife, its blade lethally jagged.

Julia froze, terrified. The man grabbed her shoulder bag, but the motion yanked her toward him.

Mike lunged between them to protect her. The man thrust the knife into him. Mike groaned in agony as his head fell forward. The knife protruded from his chest, stuck gruesomely in his white shirt.

“No!” Julia screamed. Mike wobbled on his feet.

The man yanked the knife from Mike’s chest, and blood spurted from the wound. The man turned and ran.

Mike collapsed. Julia grabbed him and fell with him to the sidewalk. His blood sprayed them both, hideously warm.

Frantic, Julia covered his wound with her hands. Blood pulsed into her palms, then stopped abruptly. Mike looked up at her without seeing her, his gaze gone vacant. His blue eyes fixed like ice. His jaw eased open. He lay lifeless on her lap, leaking blood.

“Mike!” Julia shrieked, a primal wail echoing in the night, reverberating off the concrete.

Mike stared at the stars.

Seeing between them, forever.

2

Julia sighed, the only sound in the apartment. Mike’s funeral had come and gone, and her in-laws were back in Massachusetts. She wondered how often she’d see them now. There were no grandchildren to bind them, since Mike hadn’t wanted to try to get pregnant yet.

Babe, next year, I release the Kraken.

Today was the first day she’d made it to her desk. Every morning since his murder had been a unique sort of hell. She’d wake up, realize he wasn’t there, and remember why. He wasn’t at the office. He wasn’t playing basketball. He wasn’t in the kitchen making them both coffee, a kindness she was grateful for, every day.

Julia would remember things he said or did, having teary flashbacks. They’d met freshman year at Notre Dame, where he was a sports fanatic who took art history on a lark. He was clever and fun, and they clicked instantly. They married at the Basilica and moved to Philly, where she got an MFA in painting at Penn while he went to its law school. They became each other’s family and were blessedly happy, most of their fights over stupid things like March Madness, which she regretted now.

Mike, it’s only a basketball game. If we leave now, we’ll be back for the last quarter.

Babe, that’s the climax. Boys need foreplay, too.

Julia’s memories would keep her in bed, where she was the most miserable, and the more she remembered, the more miserable she’d be and the more stuck in bed. Getting up meant starting another day without him in a life that was Before and After. She lived an Afterlife.

Mike’s ashes were on the bookshelf in a brass urn, since he told her he wanted to be cremated in a conversation they both thought was hypothetical. Next to it sat a photo of him from his law school graduation, grinning in a mortarboard. It had been displayed at his funeral, but Julia thought no photo could capture Michael Aaron Shallette, who was so full of life, talk, and opinions.

He has the gift of gab, her father always said.

Her truest feeling was a deep sadness forhim, not for herself. Mike got only thirty-two years and twenty-one days on the planet, and she raged at the injustice.Gone too soonandlife cut tragically shortwere too generic for him. Mike set goals and announced them, always planning.

He wanted to be a father by thirty-four and he used to talk about their first child. He’d say,I’ll take a boy or a girl. Girls can hit three-pointers, too.

He used to talk about the BMW Z4 he configured online.Honey, I’m getting that car when I make partner. The website said so.

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