Page 126 of Here We Go Again
She releases Joe’s hand and grips the arms of her chair. She holds on as tight as she can, like if she just never let go of this chair, she can weather this new storm.
Her grip slackens. She could outrun this pain.
She stands up.
She looks down the beach, at the infinite escape disappearing in the distance.
She turns to Rosemary, and she goes to her, and she wraps her arms around her. And they weather the storm together.
ROSEMARY
Death is a to-do list.
After weeks of dying, Joe is now dead, present tense, and Rosemary is overwhelmed by all the things they need to do. She can’t just sit here crying in Logan’s arms. She’s already wasted too much time.
How much time? She has no concept of it, but the sun is at a forty-five-degree angle overhead, and every muscle in her body aches. There’s no time for this.
They need to call Nurse Addison so he can come declare the time of death.
They need to call the funeral home to come pick up the body.
They need to choose an urn because Joe wants—wanted—to be cremated.
There will be paperwork to sign, and Rosemary needs to sign it.
There are things to do, and Rosemary starts to get them done. She puts her feelings aside and takes control of the death.
She has to call Remy.
She has to call Joe’s brother in Houston.
She has to call her mom, and Logan’s dad.
She has to write an obituary for the Vista Summit newspaper.
She needs to write a Facebook post for all his friends.
She needs to write an Instagram post for all his former students.
She needs to keep doing things and keep in control.
There goes his body. Here is the catalogue of urns. They’re almost as expensive as coffins. She points to the cheapest one, a wooden box. It looks almost like a binder.
She must keep going, keep moving, forward and forward and…
“Stop, Rosie. Please stop.”
Logan’s arms are around her again. They’re standing in the kitchen, but Rosemary can’t remember why she came in here. Logan squeezes her so tight, feeling floods her numb body. Terrible, painful feelings.
“Thank you for taking care of things,” Logan says in a low whisper. “Thank you for always being organized. But right now, I need you to be with me.”
Rosemary hugs Logan back.
“There is no way around the pain,” Logan tells. “We’ve got to go through it. Please go through it with me.”
They’re on the kitchen floor, and Rosemary isn’t sure how they got here, but they’re holding each other while they sob.
“It has to hurt,” Logan is saying. “Joe meant too much for us to pretend it doesn’t hurt.”
