Page 129 of Every Good Thing
“Just give her a good day, like you planned. I’ll break the news when I pick her up.”
“When you get here, we’ll tell her together.”
“Okay.”
“Is there anything I can do for you? I-I… want to help.”
Sobs break through the last of my seams. I’m flooded with smart-ass answers, but all that comes out is a weak “I have to go” before I hang up.
The next hours pass in a haze. Consoling Dot as she cries. Meeting with the funeral home. Discovering, much to our surprise—not surprised—that Mrs. Moore made her arrangements, from the flowers to the guest book. This, of course, makes Dot break down again. But truly, it’s a miracle.
No one wants to pick out caskets and burial plots for someone they love.
Dot, Cherry, and I spend hours on Aunt Barb’s front porch. We share memories. We discuss details. But the most important thing is that we’re together, absorbing the truth. She’s gone, and she’s not coming back.
Jaye shows up early in the afternoon with catered food. She seems almost as upset as Dot, tearfully grabbing onto her like they’re each others’ life preserver. “You okay? I need you to be okay.”
Dot nods. And Cherry and I witness the most amazing thing—a first kiss. Born from sadness and despair, but also love. Jaye edges into Dot like she can’t help it—primal and necessary. Cherry and I both gasp from the sidelines at their tangle of lips and love. It’s what I’ve always hoped for her. Love as I’ve known it. Love—pure and simple.
And it makes me miss Ben.
Then, I feel wrong for missing him, like what he’s done should’ve instantly turned me to the Dark Side. No love. Only hate. But that’s not what I feel.
He texts me. I’m taking Ruthie home. Meet us there when you’re able.
That doesn’t happen until after dinner. The dogs and I find Ruthie and Ben snuggled on the couch, watching TV. The kitchen is clean. I hear the washing machine rumbling in the background and hope it’s Ruthie’s dresses. It feels almost normal.
Ben flips the TV off when I come in, and I take my usual side of the couch. I tell Ruthie what’s happened, nearly breaking when her bottom lip quivers and she bursts into tears. Ben holds her to his chest while she cries and pulls me toward him, too.
“Aunt Barb’s in heaven with Grandma Ruth now?” Ruthie whimpers.
“Yep. Best friends forever,” I say from the other side of Ben’s chest, our tears pooling on his t-shirt.
“Everyone dies, Ruthie,” he says into the air between us, “and we’ll miss her. But we can honor her by being brave and living fully like she did.”
My hand grips his like a lifeline as the tears flow. I’m grateful that he had the right words because I don’t.
Ruthie cries herself to sleep, and soon, Ben carries her into bed. She tucks in with barely a murmur.
Nothing tires like grief.
We reenter the living room. I’m exhausted and weak, totally spent. All I want is to crawl into bed and bury my face in the pillow. His pillow, if I’m honest. That I haven’t washed and still barely smells of his aftershave.
Ben stands by the kitchen island, looking unsure.
“Thanks for bringing her home,” I say, “and doing that with me.”
He nods as I lean against the counter opposite him. “Whatever you need.”
“She went peacefully in her sleep. That’s all anyone can hope for, really,” I say, the words avalanching from my mouth. “I should’ve known it was coming. She told me she loved me last night… between asking if I’d remembered to check the mail and if I thought Dot and Jaye would make it.”
“What’d you say?”
“Yes, I remembered the mail. Yes, Dot and Jaye will make it. And yes, I loved her, too. She also said… Loving is losing, eventually. Didn’t know she’d provide the evidence so soon, not that I needed proof.”
He looks unsure. “I’m sorry, Lena.”
“Me, too,” and then feeling bad about my jab, I add, “You were her favorite opponent in cards.”
