Page 6 of Someone to Remember
Taylor
While I wait for Iris to arrive, I stare up at the ceiling, blinded by tears, thinking about Will and reliving our story, from the day he came to give me an estimate on damage to my roof after a storm. Our connection was immediate. He emailed me the estimate along with a note that said,Whether I get to fix your roof or not, maybe you’d have dinner with me?
I sob as I recall receiving that message after telling Kate that the cutest guy came to give me an estimate on the roof. Kate said it was the first time she’d seen my old sparkle since Greg died.
After getting Will’s note, I texted Kate to come for wine and news.
She was at my back door five minutes later. When I told her the cute roof guy asked me out, she screamed so loud, she scared my daughter, Eliza, who came rushing into the kitchen to find out what was wrong.
“It’s okay, honey,” I told Eliza. “Auntie Kate is screaming because she’s happy.”
“You guys are weird,” she said with six-year-old disdainbefore returning to the show she’d been watching in the family room.
“Tell me everything,” Kate said. “Leave nothing out.”
My whole body is convulsed with sobs.
A female doctor comes in to check on me. “Mrs. Lonergan, I’m Dr. Goodwin. I’m so very sorry for your loss.”
“Th-thank you. The baby…”
“He’s doing just fine. Your blood pressure is a little high, though, so I want to keep you overnight.”
“I… I have to go home. My kids. I need to be with them.”
“It’s safer for you and the baby to be here right now. Do you have someone you can ask to stay with them?”
“Yeah. I’ll call her.”
I don’t want to call Kate, who loves Will almost as much as I do, and tell her he’s dead.
“I want to see my husband. They said I could…”
“Your friend Bryan said you have a friend coming to be with you. Do you want to wait?”
“Yes, Iris is coming. I need her.” I look up at the kind young doctor. “What am I supposed to do? How can Will be dead? I lost my first husband…”
Her kind face softens with compassion. “Oh no. I’m so sorry.”
“I can’t go through this again,” I say through sobs. “My kids… The baby… How will I do this?”
She takes my hand. “I can’t possibly know what you’re going through, but your baby needs you, and your older children do, too.”
“I… I know… I just don’t know how…”
“I’m here,” Iris says as she rushes into the room.
The doctor steps aside to let her in.
She hugs me tightly as I sob. Despite the despair and overwhelming grief, I’m comforted by her presence. We hug for a long time before she pulls back to look at me, her face awash in tears. “What do you need?”
I appreciate that she knows the drill and doesn’t start with platitudes such as “at least he didn’t suffer,” or any of the other stupid things people say when they’ve never been where we are.
“They’re keeping me for observation because my blood pressure is high.”
“Then you’re in the right place for yourself and the baby.”
“I was waiting for you before they take me to see him.”
