Page 23 of For I Have Sinned
“And this is?”
“My husband,” I whisper, making him look up at me in surprise. “My late husband.”
Zaiden swallows as he studies my face. His eyes are glassy with his own unshed tears. Taking a breath, I let it out slowly, trying to clear my head of the need to cry.
“Just over three years ago, I lived with my husband. Our life was… well, I can look back and say it was perfect because he was here and alive. We had our fights, our challenges, but I loved him with everything in me.”
I have to stop for a minute as tears suddenly well up and I can feel my face crumple. It’s a struggle to keep from sobbing, so I hold my breath, not giving the sobs any fuel. It takes far too long to contain them, and when I speak again, my voice is shaking.
“I was away, visiting family. He had to stay home. There was a project at work that he was desperate to get through so he could relax. The plan was that he’d meet me in a couple days. The day he drove out, he called me from the road. He was so excited that he finished early and he was coming to join us. Only ten minutes after we hung up the phone, it rang again. This time with a police officer telling me my husband has been in an accident.”
There’s no stopping the tears this time. Probably because I see Zaiden’s start falling. His shoulders shake as he tries to contain his sobs. His arms tighten around himself as he listens.
“I’m not sure how I got to the hospital.” I’m not sure my voice is comprehensible right now as I try to get the words out. This is a story I’ve never repeated since the moment it happened. “He was still alive when I got there, but barely. We got to say goodbye.”
I close my eyes, remembering how he looked all banged up and filled with tubes. Machines beeping unsteadily. Then too, I tried like hell not to cry because I wanted to look at him clearly. I wanted to see his face and remember it always. I tried desperately to burn his face into my mind. Behind my eyelids so I’d always see him when he was no longer there.
“He told me he loved me and that he’d never leave me. He promised he’d always be here, but that I couldn’t just shut down. And he made me promise that I’d live.” I choke and have to stop for a second, my chest rising and falling as I desperately try to breathe. It feels like that moment all over again. The pain and helplessness feel the same. The grief is crippling.
“He asked me to do him one favor. My husband was a spiritual man. I… I was not. I am not. But he asked me to find God. To make peace. For him, I promised I would.”
Zaiden shakes his head. He wipes his face as he looks at me.
“After his funeral, I took this photo and left it all. I swore that the only thing I was going to do for the rest of my life was work to find his fucking God. Imagine how difficult and frustrating that is when I don’t believe in this shit!” I laugh bitterly, shaking my head again. “How can I when He says that being gay is a sin? That I’m fucked up and broken. I’m an abomination. In one breath, these fucking priests say that God made us all perfect. And in the next, I’m condemned to hell for being attracted to boys instead of girls.”
He tilts his head a little as he watches me. It takes me several breaths to finally quiet the quaking turmoil inside me. To quiet the heartbreak and grief that’s moving around inside me like a hurricane, threatening to pull me under.
After several breaths, I look down at the picture.
“But it was the last thing he asked of me. And if that’s what he wanted, then I was going to give that to him. I made that promise and have been trying to fulfill it, but it’s… not really happening.”
“I’m sorry,” Zaiden says.
I shake my head. He reaches out and presses his palm to my chest. “You’ve never dealt with your grief, have you?”
Another bitter laugh escapes. “No,” I whisper. “I used this fucked up Church to silence everything inside me so I wouldn’t have to feel it. It worked to some extent. I use their tedious mind washing prayers as a way of meditating. Using the familiar words as background noise to clear my head.”
Zaiden laughs. “That’s not how you’re supposed to use prayer.”
I smile a little and nod, stepping into his touch a little more. I need the pressure against my chest. His touch, it’s the first time since my husband that I actually feel anything at all.
“I’m sorry,” Zaiden says again. “I didn’t mean to… disrupt what you had going on.”
I laugh without humor. “Yeah. It’s fine. It’s not like I’ve been living the dream.”
I’m not sure I was living at all.
Eleven
ELLSWORTH
A quiet minute passes. I cover Zaiden’s hand over my heart with my own and close my eyes. Again, I feel lighter. Another weight has been lifted. Was it from acknowledging my grief? Allowing myself to think about my husband? Maybe it was just explaining my actions to Zaiden.
“Can I show you something?” Zaiden asks.
I look up to meet his eyes and nod.
His hand falls away and I fist my fingers so I don’t reach for him. But he offers me his hand when we step off the porch and I take it, allowing myself to take some strength from him.
