Page 31 of Because of Blake
I settle at my desk and begin my day by checking my emails. I’m not even through the first one when there’s a knock on my cubicle wall. Spinning around in my chair, I’m surprised to see Abbey standing in the entryway.
She’s a little shrunken from her normal stature, but purses her lips as she taps her nails against her thigh all the same. “Maggie...”
“Abbey.” I don’t know what the hell she needs, but this weird silence from her isn’t normal.
“I didn’t know your husband was dead.”
Is that supposed to be some kind of apology? “Well, now you do.”
She huffs a breath and shifts her footing so her hip leans against the wall. “Sorry for what I said.”
My mouth hangs open as I stare at her, unable to comprehend what’s happening.
“I was actually going to press charges, but when I found out what was going on, I changed my mind. Losing your husband so suddenly… it must have been hard.” She adjusts her feet again and begins picking at her nails. “I don’t blame you for slapping me.”
“Thank you, Abbey. But for what it’s worth, I am sorry I did.”
She presses her lips into a line, nodding curtly before turning to walk away.
Wow.That’s exactly what I needed after this morning.
Abbey stops and comes back to my desk. “You know, if you want, I could help you with your makeup and stuff. Teach you how to do it if you’re going on dates.”
Aaaand the apology is negated.“Thanks, Abbey, but I don’t date.”
“Oh, okay. Well, if you ever change your mind, I’d be happy to help.” Her tone sounds sweet, but bitter as she leaves.
I mean, I guess she tried? And what’s wrong with my makeup? I study myself in my computer monitor screen. It’s fine... I think.
Abbey’s apology has my week started off right, and I breeze through the rest of the days. Even though my kids are gone, I feel like something good is coming my way and it keeps my mood lifted all week.
The feeling is ripped to shreds early Saturday morning.
I wake with a start, drenched in a cold sweat. My jaw hurts from being clenched. My pillow is soaked with tears. As I turn to grab the glass of water sitting on my side table, I see the clock. It’s 4 a.m. I take a sip of water and flop onto my back, inhaling deep to calm my racing heart.
Are these nightmares ever going to stop?
They aren’t always the same, but they always leave me an emotional wreck. Sometimes they’re random scenes. People I don’t know in situations I can’t save them from. Other times, it’s very specific, much like this one. The details are hazy, but I can picture Sydney’s face twisted with fear, and hear Dylan’s ear-piercing scream as they’re pulled away from me. A chill runs down my spine at the feeling of their hands slipping through my grasp.
I sag into the mattress and close my eyes, but force them back open as the images replay behind my eyelids.
“I have to get out of bed.” The sun may not even be up yet, but there’s no way I’m going back to sleep.
With my endorphins pumping after a hefty cardio workout, I make breakfast, and eat in silence. This hasn’t happened since last summer when the kids went to camp. It’s blissful and serene, but also haunting. I don’t like it. I never have.
I wish I had someone to talk to. I could call Michelle, but she won’t be up yet. This is one of those times when I wish I had a partner. Charlie would have been up by now, giving me someone to pass the time with, but now it’s me alone with my thoughts. A dangerous combination sometimes.
As I finish breakfast, the sun peeks out over the horizon, bathing everything in a warm sunrise glow. I decide to finish my coffee on the back patio. I listen to the birds chirping, the gentle breeze blowing through the branches, and as my heart finally thumps at a normal pace, I think,this is more like it. Today is going to be good.
By the time lunch comes, I’ve done some gardening, taken a shower, and read half of another book from my to-be-read pile. I enjoy a veggie wrap on the back patio, again taking in the sounds of summer all around.
I remember the days of the kids being little and how Charlie and I never got to enjoy a meal by ourselves. All we wanted was to get through a conversation without having to get up a hundred times to refill juice, or get another serving of mac and cheese, or wipe up the inevitable spill. Or, maybe that’s what I wanted.
Charlie was almost always the instigator when it came to rambunctious behavior. He was the one making funny faces, or talking in silly voices. He’d get the kids all riled up, and I’d be the one to clean up the mess.
Now those days are gone. Charlie’s gone.
With a grimace on my face and a knife in my heart, I head inside to clean up. I scrape the little crumbs off my plate and into my garbage disposal. Flipping the switch, the sound of metal grinding together makes my jaw clench. Before I can react and turn the switch, a piece of metal comes flying out of the sink, barely missing me. I let out a shriek, ducking under the cabinet before jumping up to shut off the disposal, my heart beating a mile a minute.