Chasing Charlie

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE: THE MOURNING AFTER

  Uncaring of the fact that a soul was missing, the sun peeked above the horizon as scheduled the next morning. Though it cast a harsh light through the east-facing bedroom window, it wasn’t what woke Angela up.

  What did rouse her was a soft touch to her shoulder. She let out a little moan, ready to protest the idea of waking up from six straight hours of sleep, but then she remembered what had been happening before she’d drifted off. So instead of rolling over and ignoring someone’s attempt to wake her, she peeled her eyes open, hoping selfishly that it wasn’t Mitch tapping her shoulder to deliver the news she’d been dreading since January.

  Vince’s warm body lay next to her, but she heard no labored breathing, didn’t feel his chest rising and falling.

  “Angela,” Mitch whispered, his voice cracking through. “Angela, wake up.”

  She felt a rush to the head when she lifted her cheek from the pillow and saw Vince lying lifelessly beside her, his eyes closed and hands posed peacefully on his stomach. Had Mitch done this? She didn’t really have time to care, because what it meant impacted her far more. “No,” she groaned, propping herself up and laying a hand over Vince’s still heart, ignoring Mitch for the time being.

  “No, no, no, no. No, Vince, wake up,” she cried helplessly. “Mitch, do something,” she croaked, finally paying him attention. “Please, do something.”

  All these months, she’d secretly hoped that already having seen Vince so close to death would help prepare her for this moment. She’d also figured that knowing Vince had an eternity with God ahead of him would prove as a source of comfort. But nothing would have made her ready for the moment when she knew she would never again hear Vince say her name, feel his hand on her cheek, hear him say that he loved her.

  “Please, Vince…wake up…”

  Mitch let Angela ramble on, let her go through the process of the initial sinking in. He didn’t tell her there was nothing he could do. “Do you, uh—” He sniffled and pinched his nose, causing Angela to wonder how long he’d been awake and aware of Vince’s death. “Do you want some time alone? I can go call the doctor or a nurse or something.”

  Angela shook her head and let the tears fall from her cheeks to Vince’s shirt. She knew that just hours ago, she had been telling him it was all right to go to sleep. With her and his brother surrounding him, he had been ready to surrender to his illness, ready to die—as ready as he would ever be, anyway. But nothing she had said for his sake the night before made this any easier to handle now. She was thankful that he was still warm, that she still felt he was with her in the slightest as she clutched one of his clammy hands and sobbed into his chest.

  Mitch didn’t wait any longer for an answer from her. He shut the door softly on his way out.

  Since Vince wasn’t cool to the touch yet, Angela figured it couldn’t have been long. He could have taken his last noisy, desperate breath only minutes ago while she slept soundly next to him. How could she have slept through that? Why hadn’t he woken her? Because she hadn’t slept properly in so long, she knew. If he’d been awake to make the decision, he wouldn’t have wanted to interrupt her slumber just to give her such a scarring memory. It made her no less angry, though. No less horrified that he had died without any more comforting words from her, without hearing her say that she loved him one more time.

  She was overcome with nothing but a bone-crushing sorrow, a pain that pushed aside every other emotion, left no room for any more thought as she sank into a deep, dark abyss with no hope of anyone or anything pulling her back out. She was deaf to the sound of her own wails, the sound of the birds chirruping outside the window, the sound of Mitch making a phone call down the hallway and then sinking down into the couch to mourn on his own.

  Even by the time she heard new footsteps in the apartment, she had progressed no further than weeping incessantly and hanging on to Vince’s body as if her own life depended on it.

  Mitch’s knocking on the door didn’t pull her back to life. Neither did his entrance, or his crouching down next to the bed, eyes rimmed with red, trying to catch her attention. “Angela,” he said, but his words sounded to her as if she were hearing him from underwater. For all she knew or cared, he could have been reciting the Pledge of Allegiance instead of repeating her name over and over again.

  Mitch dared to reach out and touch Angela’s hand in an effort to pull her back to reality. Little did he know, this nothingness was her reality. At least for now.

  When she felt his finger touch the back of her hand, she swatted at him. “Don’t,” she hissed, returning her hand to Vince’s. It wasn’t the same hand she’d been holding for all that time, though—left instead of right. The new one already felt eerily chilly compared to its counterpart.

  “Rosie needs to come in and check him,” Mitch explained. The more he spoke in full sentences, the better Angela understood him. “Then she’s going to clean him up and help me change him into some clean clothes. I know you’ve got a friend in town who might wanna see him one last time, no?”

  “I’m not ready,” Angela whispered, still holding on to Vince’s cold hand. “Can you t—turn off the fan? He’s—he’s freezing.”

  “That’s because he’s—” Mitch stopped himself and sighed. “C’mon, just come into the living room for a little while. Remember, it’s—it’s not actually him anymore. It’s just his body.”

  “I will get up when I’m ready. If you want to stay too, then fine. But no one else enters this room until I say so,” she said firmly.

  She didn’t even look to see Mitch leave. She merely listened for the door to close before she used up nearly all of her physical strength to sit up next to Vince’s body. Somehow he had never looked worse, but on the same note he hadn’t looked this peaceful in a long time. Through a veil of tears that she didn’t expect to part any time soon, she looked down on his blank face, his bluing lips, then framed a sunken, pallid cheek with one of her hands. She was aware that he was no longer there, that what lay before her was merely an empty shell, but she leaned down to kiss his forehead anyway.

  In her dark line of work, she had seen people holding dead loved ones before, and she’d always wondered how the coolness had never bothered them. As she touched the red tip of her nose to Vince’s, though, she realized that at this moment, nothing could have mattered to her less than what his body temperature was. The only thing that concerned her was the fact that she had the rest of her life to live without him. She had to find a way to move on. Though she didn’t plan to make any leaps and bounds any time soon, she knew she at least had to get out of bed, to stand, to let the nurse do her job.

  “I love you,” she uttered before struggling out of bed and forcing herself to stand. Mitch opened the door a crack and saw that she was trying, then came in to help her. “Wait,” she said before Mitch could guide her from the room. “Can you, um…can you help me with something and p—promise not to judge me?”

  “Of course. What is it?”

  “I just—I want his pillows.” She cleared her throat and walked over to Vince’s side of the bed. “I don’t want them—to wash h—his pillowcases,” she said, her words punctuated by little gasps and chokes that threatened to send her hyperventilating.

  “’Course.” Mitch leaned over and held his brother’s head up long enough for Angela to swap his pillows for hers. She held onto both of his, finally letting Mitch lead her from the room.

  She apparently didn’t look like she wanted any hugs, as Rosie offered nothing but a heartfelt apology and a soft squeeze of the shoulder before she went back to the bedroom. Angela found herself being nudged toward the couch and offered coffee that she declined without a thought. She simply leaned over her knees, clutching Vince’s pillows to her chest, pulling in his scent—the only physical reminder of his living form that she had handy at the moment—and letting the tears fall anew, letting the sobs overwhelm her body that rocked to and fro. “I can’t believe—he was all alone,”
she cried, digging her fingers into the pillows her tears dampened.

  “He wasn’t,” Mitch said stuffily, sitting down next to her. “I was with him. His, uh, breathing got really bad near the end, woke me up. The wheezing. He couldn’t talk, but—but when I went to wake you up, he shook his head a little. He knew it’d been so long since you’d slept. He was much happier seeing you peaceful than he would’ve been having you watch.”

  Angela felt dizzy standing so quickly, but she couldn’t be near Mitch right now. “I can’t believe you.”

  “It wasn’t my decision, Angela, come on,” Mitch said quietly, trying to keep his patience with her.

  “If he couldn’t even speak, then how on earth could you have known that he didn’t want you to wake me up? What the—”

  “He shook his head. That’s pretty widely accepted in our culture as meaning ‘no,’” Mitch spat back. “I know you’re angry, I know you’re sad, but please don’t take this out on me. That’s my brother in there. It was literally his dying wish for me not to wake you up. Are you telling me you wouldn’t have listened to him?”

  Angela turned shamefully away from Mitch, taking refuge in the kitchen, the cold tile on her feet waking her up. It wasn’t fair to give Mitch the brunt of her anger. It wasn’t fair for her to make him feel guilty for acquiescing to Vince’s final request, even if she wished with all her heart that Vince had never asked such a thing of him in the first place.

  Would she have listened to Vince if her and Mitch’s roles had been reversed? She liked to think so. She liked to think that she loved Vince so blindly, that at the hardest moment in his life, she would have given him anything within her power.

  Even if she grew to forgive Mitch completely, he would probably feel guilty about the decision for the rest of his life. She wasn’t forced to make even verbal amends with him just yet, though. Rosie emerged from the bedroom, notifying them that she’d pronounced Vince’s death and made the necessary calls and documentation. She informed them that if they wanted him changed into different clothes for friends or family to view him, she could do it on her own unless they wanted to help.

  Without exchanging so much as a glance, Mitch and Angela followed Rosie back to the bedroom.

  “What did you wanna change him into, honey?” Rosie asked Angela.

  Angela glanced fleetingly toward Mitch, then remembered she was upset with him. She shrugged. “I dunno. Not a suit…I’m not ready for it to look like…like a funeral. Not in our bed.” She still held childishly tight to Vince’s pillows.

  “Maybe just a button-down?” Rosie suggested.

  Angela shook her head. “It’s been so long since any of his nice clothes fit him. We just—we just stopped buying new things except t-shirts and sweatpants and shorts, really. All his nice things—would look so big. They’d look silly, I think.”

  “We could tuck his clothes in around him, making them look like they fit,” Mitch said. “I’ll make sure he looks good, okay?”

  “Okay. I can get our duvet. It’s in the closet.”

  “Okay, then,” Rosie said. “I can come back and get all his medication and supplies cleaned up later. I just wanna get outta your way here, get done what you need me to get done so you can be alone if you want. Now I can clean him up myself if you want me to…” she offered, but Mitch shook his head and insisted on being a part of the process, too. Angela wanted to help as well, didn’t want to walk away from any of this, but a new flood of grief sent her into the bathroom with dry heaves. The last thing she’d eaten was some toast the morning before—or maybe the morning before that, she thought, unsure—and that was long gone. She heard Mitch asking Rosie if she could really take care of things on her own, then Rosie telling him not to be silly, to go where he was needed.

  “I know you’re mad at me, I get it,” Mitch prefaced before pouring a cold glass of water and popping open the medicine cabinet. “And I know you have more important things on your mind than doing me any favors and forgiving me, but you need to at least take care of yourself.”

  It took a while for Angela to ward off the nausea enough to sit upright again. When Mitch handed her the water and half a Zofran—she recognized by color and shape every pill Vince had ever taken—she accepted it, not sure if it would work on her, not sure if self-medicating was the best idea right now, but not caring enough to fight it.

  Mitch shut the door and kept his voice low. “Like I said…I know you’re upset. Just, please keep in mind that I just lost my brother. You’re not the only one hurting here.” Angela looked up and saw Mitch nearly swallowing his lips and widening his eyes, just as Vince had always done when he cried. “I did what I could to let him die the way he wanted, and now I need to make my own peace with this. Just like you do. I know that makes me sound resentful toward you and that’s…that’s not how I mean it. I just—I need to grieve, too. I’m not asking for anything from you except a chance to do that without feeling guilty for doing what I had to do. That’s it. That’s all.”

  Further shamed, Angela gave a short nod and a downcast stare that she hoped at least said that she was sorry for faulting him. For now, she would have to put the issue aside. Mitch had nowhere else to live and no money and she had none to give him, so he probably wasn’t going anywhere any time soon. And if she was honest with herself, she knew she needed him. She couldn’t foresee her friends giving her what she really needed—presence without talking, without physical contact. After weeks of living with her, Mitch had gradually learned how to be there without really being there. It was a specific kind of comfort. Non-intrusive but effective.

  She muttered a thanks to him, then sat down on the edge of the bathtub, her knees too unsteady for any manual labor, her stomach too weak to see Vince again just yet. To see his body, really. She tried to remind herself that that was all that remained of him here. A vessel once containing a beautiful soul that had now found a new home.

  If she couldn’t be helpful in the bedroom, to which Mitch retreated, then she could at least start thinking up a list of things to do. Rosie would take care of getting Vince’s body taken away when they were ready, and had already called the funeral home and the pastor for them. But someone needed to let the team know what had happened. And Charlie. The thought of him made her want to drop into the bathtub and let her tears slip down the drain. She didn’t envy Jenna if she took on the task of breaking the news to Charlie.

  And as much as Angela loved her friends, they were the last people she wanted to see right now. The same went for her parents. What she really wanted—except to hear Vince’s voice again, to feel the safety of his embrace, to plan a future with him instead of only relying on memories of their past to sustain her—was to close the blind and curtains, lock the bedroom door, and be alone, whether it be with his body there or not. She didn’t want people telling her things would be okay, or that they missed him, too. After months of watching Vince slowly but surely slip away, all the while not letting him in on even a fraction of her sorrow, she needed to mourn freely and alone.

  When she folded herself up on the couch and dialed the phone to do what she didn’t want to do, she empathized with Mitch a bit more. It had probably gone against his own wishes to let her sleep through Vince’s final moments. But he had had to realize it wasn’t about himself or what he thought was the right choice. Along the same lines, she didn’t want any people in the apartment, but everyone who wanted to had a right to come and see Vince here if they could make it.

  Given the fact that she hadn’t called Harry for anything over the past two days, Angela hoped he wouldn’t make her say it—that he would know exactly why she was calling. And he did. “Hey,” he answered softly. He paused. “Did it happen?”

  “Yeah.” Her eyes fogged and her breath stopped in her throat. She could hear Mitch dealing more calmly with someone over his own phone down the hall. “If you wanna—come see him before they take him, then you can,” Angela struggled to say. She glanced at the clock, suddenly wondering
what time it was. Already nine.

  “Of course. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  “Okay. Can you do me a huge f—favor?”

  “Want me to let Marshall and Sophie know?” Harry asked, his voice crackling as if he had poor reception, but Angela knew that wasn’t the case.

  “Please, if it’s not too much trouble. I really don’t have much left in me. I really need to—to go lie down. I know it’s cowardly.”

  “Of course I can call. You do what you need to do to grieve properly. And you let your friends and family help if they can. Okay?”

  “Mm-hmm. Thanks, Harry.” Angela considered going back to the bedroom again, keeping vigil, watching, remembering. Though the thought of lying down with Vince’s cooling body now gave her the chills, she still hated being on the other end of the apartment.

  But she needed to make one more call, no matter how little she had left in her. Mitch could call Jenna and most likely would do so before she even asked him to. There was no getting around needing to notify her parents, though.

  “Hi, sweetheart,” her father answered carefully.

  “Hi, Dad,” she stammered. “He’s—he’s—” She stopped and choked, trying to spit out a simple four-letter word. Dead. Gone.

  “I’m so sorry, Angie. We’ll be there soon. Can we bring anything?”

  “No,” Angela managed. She didn’t have the heart to say that she wasn’t even sure if she could handle seeing them right now. She would hopefully find their presence helpful, but if not, she would at least tolerate it. “We don’t need anything. No, wait…”

  “What is it?”

  “Can you sneak me a few packs of Marlboros without Mom noticing?”

  She expected her father to chide her, but she sensed a conspiring smile behind his voice. “Sure, I’ll find a way. I’ll see you shortly, honey. I love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  “Funeral director called back. Thursday sound okay?” Mitch asked, padding down the hallway.

  Angela gazed around the still room and nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure the team will be back by then. Everything’s all set with the funeral home, then, right? They know everything they need to know?”

  Mitch nodded. “Everything’s all set. And Rosie said your pastor said to call if and when you wanted him to come over.”

  Angela nodded and set her phone down on the end table, freeing her hands to pull her hair from her face. “I can’t believe it,” she said with a shaking sigh. “All these months, I thought this moment would be hard, but I had—I had no idea how…empty I would feel. Not even just a piece of me feels like it’s missing. It’s everything. I know he’s somewhere better and he’s not in pain anymore, and I’m so thankful for that. But I’m not. I’m stuck here without him.” She had never expected to speak so much so soon, but in retrospect she supposed it was probably good for her to open up to Mitch, at least for his sake if not for hers. “I’m so sorry for how awful I was to you. You did what you—”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Mitch said consolingly. “We’re good.”

  As if on cue, someone knocked.

  “Thank you,” Angela said, tying up their conversation before thinking about moving.

  Mitch nodded. “I’m gonna…go call Jenna. That all right with you?”

  “Mitch, I appreciate you running everything by me, but you don’t need to. This is just as much your family as it is mine. It’s actually more your family now—Charlie’s your nephew—”

  “Don’t start with that,” Mitch scolded her mildly. “Anyway, I have some of Vince’s old friends and our very extended family to call, too. I’ll be in Charlie’s room if you need me.”

  “Thanks,” Angela repeated distantly. She tucked her hair behind her ears and prepared herself for the onslaught of attention she didn’t want, silently praying for all of this to be over quickly so she could be alone, then feeling immediately guilty for praying for something so self-seeking.

  Another knock sounded before Angela opened the door. It was Harry, of course.

  She caught just a glimpse of her friend’s puffy red eyes before he came toward her with open arms. For the longest time, he didn’t say a word—they simply wept together, Angela a little louder. She felt a little more at home in his embrace than she had felt curled up on the couch, but after a few minutes she began to feel stifled and looked for a way out. “Mitch is in Charlie’s room…you can go see Vince if you want to. You can be alone,” she muttered, letting go of her hold on her friend’s back and hoping those two things were hint enough.

  “You gonna be all right out here?” Harry asked.

  Angela pulled her lips taut into her mouth and nodded, her arms clutching her waist. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Do you want some coffee? Tea?”

  Harry shook his head. “Don’t worry about me. You go ahead and rest.”

  Rest, Angela thought resentfully as she watched Harry walk away, shutting the bedroom door behind him. Rest was what had prevented her from being there for Vince as he had taken his final breath. She understood his desire to see her at peace, but she had also known him well enough to understand that, had he allowed himself to be selfish, he would have let Mitch wake her up. She was certain Vince had wanted to see her visage in the periphery of the bright white light. She knew he had wanted her to hold him as he went. She knew these things because he had tried his hand at self-sacrifice by initially forcing them out of the room, only to realize soon after that he hadn’t wanted to be alone after all.

  “Angela.”

  She popped her head up. How long had she been in another world? Harry had already returned to the living room. “Yeah?”

  “Is there anything I can do to help? Anything I can go out and pick up, anyone I can call?”

  Angela shook her head. “Everything’s pretty much taken care of, thanks to Mitch and the hospice staff. And to you. Thank you for calling the team. How are they taking it?”

  “In stride, I’m sure,” Harry said. “They have a job to do. That’ll help distract them. Hanson knows and she’s trying her best to get a few agents to relieve them.”

  Angela nodded absentmindedly. “Are you sure you don’t want something to drink?”

  “Stop worrying about everyone else,” Harry said gently.

  “You lost somebody, too,” Angela replied. “I don’t want you to feel like you need to take care of me. We’re all hurting. We all loved him.” She surprised herself with how easily she had transitioned into the past tense. She wasn’t fool enough to think all the other aspects of her recovery would be as simple, though. “Besides, I signed up for this level of torture. You guys didn’t.”

  “Whatever you say,” Harry said, visibly frustrated with her. “Anyone else coming by?”

  “Yeah, my parents should be here any minute,” Angela said, licking her chapped lips with a tongue so dry it didn’t help at all. “And after I see them and after the coroner or whoever comes to get…Vince’s body…I know I’m just gonna wanna…go to bed. I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be right now, besides with him.”

  “For the last six months of Vince’s life, you were his rock,” Harry told her. “You take all the time you need. Spend it however you want, wherever you want. Just remember to call me first if you need anything. I mean that.”

  Angela didn’t argue. “Thank you. I really appreciate you coming over. I’ll let you know when I’m a little more…with it. Hopefully by the time the team gets back.” She and Harry shared one more long and heartfelt hug before he left.

  If she remembered correctly, she only had a few more people to snub before she would finally be able to rest. Her parents came, her mother carrying a plastic-wrapped bouquet of roses and her father toting a paper grocery bag. He said there were some cookies and crackers inside to munch on (and, Angela hoped, some much-needed cigarettes) and that they would bring over some real food later on.

  Ruth stroked her daughter’s arm until she granted her eye contact. When Angela did so and sh
rugged, Ruth pouted and brushed Angela’s cheek with her thumb, held her for the longest moment, then whisked away into the kitchen to cut the flowers and put them in water. “How are you doing, sweetheart?” she asked.

  “I feel like there’s nowhere to go from here.” Angela supposed it was easier for her to open up to her parents more simply for the fact that she didn’t feel like she was taking away from their pain by doing so. They didn’t hurt nearly as much for Vince as they did for her, so she didn’t feel as guilty unraveling a little around them. Her mother abandoned the flowers and came back to her. Angela’s cheek pressed against hers, and her father closed her up from behind to form the saddest group hug of which she’d ever been a part.

  “We’re here for you no matter what, honey,” George said, his voice cracking. “Is there anything we can do? Calls we can make?”

  “No,” Angela whispered. “Thanks, but everything’s taken care of. Mitch has been really great about that.”

  “Have you talked to Charlie yet?” Ruth asked carefully.

  “Not personally. Mitch was going to call Jenna and let her know, I think. Whether she’s gonna be the one to tell him, I’m not sure. I guess I’ll find out.”

  “That poor little boy,” Ruth said sorrowfully. “He’s so lucky to have you, though,” she tacked on. “It’s so easy to see how much he loves you.”

  Angela was very far removed from her comfort zone of conversation topics now. Vince’s death was immediate and certain and made sense to talk about. Charlie, however, was another ballgame entirely. Sure, they had a schedule, and she was sure that would set Charlie to stay with her next weekend at the very latest, but other than deciding what roof would be over his head, dealing with Charlie was something Angela couldn’t fathom right now.

  She indulged her parents a little more, letting them coddle her as they wished. They didn’t pry much, just offered words of encouragement and support that she didn’t doubt for a second. Like Harry, it didn’t take them long to catch on to the fact that she wasn’t up for company. With a few more hugs and kisses, Angela was alone in the living room again. She pulled out the junk food from the grocery bag. It held just enough cookies and crackers to cover up an entire carton of cigarettes, which she left in the bag. She almost laughed at her father. A former smoker himself, she was sure he understood the calming power.

  She was just about to go back into the bedroom again to torture herself further when someone else knocked. This time the pastor, she guessed, and she was right. He didn’t stay long either, saying a poignant blessing over Vince’s body and leading Angela and Mitch in a prayer before asking them a few questions about their preferences for the funeral service. Like the others before him, he knew when to leave.

  This left only the removal of Vince’s body on the day’s agenda. Angela and Mitch sat silently at Vince’s bedside, looking and crying but not touching, when two blank-faced men in uniforms came to wheel away the body.

  Just his body, just his body, just his body, Angela chanted to herself, kissing Vince’s cool forehead and slipping off his wedding ring before nodding to the blank-faced men. She let Mitch hug her, keeping her facing the other way, while they transferred the body to a stretcher and draped a sheet over him. “Did Jenna tell Charlie?” Angela asked Mitch in an effort to distract herself from what was going on behind her. Her throat stretched so tightly that she was lucky she could form words.

  “She said she will soon. They were at his baseball practice when I called. All she said was that she didn’t want to come see his body,” Mitch said calmly.

  “Charlie’s so brave,” Angela managed. “I can hardly even talk to anyone and he’s off playing baseball. And it doesn’t matter that he doesn’t know his dad is dead yet. He already had to—say goodbye to him twice. He already had that little scare the second time.”

  Mitch let Angela melt down until he heard the front door shut. “Relax, sit down,” he said, sitting with her at the foot of the bed.

  The smell of chemicals—namely bleach—burned Angela’s nostrils as she sniffled. The smell had been there ever since Vince had gone bedridden and the sheets needed frequent changing. He hadn’t liked the smell on his pillowcases, which thus always got washed with regular detergent.

  Angela hadn’t let the pervasive smell bother her before, as there was always a reason for it. But that reason had just rolled out the door. “I’m gonna change the sheets,” she announced, getting right back up and heading for the linen closet. The beige sheets that went with their other bedclothes sat on the top shelf. When she got back to the bedroom, Mitch had already stripped the mattress bare. “Oh. Thanks.”

  “Yup,” Mitch said. He held his hand out for the fitted sheet, which they stretched over the bed. The methodical task of making the bed turned out to be somewhat soothing for Angela, who was more ready than ever to begin her own mourning process. As she smoothed out the duvet, her phone rang in her pocket. Sophie’s name showed up on the caller ID. Angela imagined that Harry had told the team at an inopportune time and either no one had had time to call until now, or Harry had discouraged them from barraging her right away.

  “I don’t know the etiquette behind all this,” she admitted. “It’s Sophie,” she explained when Mitch looked at her curiously. “Do I have to talk to everyone or can I just…check out for a while? If one more person tells me they’re sorry, or that it’s—”

  Mitch plucked the phone from Angela’s hand and answered it mid-ring. “Hello?” he said quietly. “Yeah, this is Mitch. Uhh, I’m not sure but I think she’s sleeping. Let me check.” Mitch put his palm to the mouthpiece and looked at Angela.

  With a burning shame and a promise to herself to call the her friends back soon, she gave Mitch a faint smile of thanks and said nothing.

  He nodded and brought the phone back up. “Sorry, Sophie, she finally fell asleep…No, of course not, I won’t wake her up. I’ll let her know you called…Oh, thank you…I’m doing all right, all things considered, I guess. Just going through the motions. How about you?”

  Angela lifted an eyebrow when Mitch walked out of the room with her phone still to his ear. While he made polite small talk with Sophie, Angela began gathering all remaining medical supplies in a couple of laundry baskets. If she did by some miracle fall asleep, she didn’t want to be prodded awake by a hospice worker coming to clean up. So in went bottle upon bottle of unused pills, oxygen tubing, the syringe driver, spare needles, medical tape, alcohol wipes, a bedpan, leftover underpads, and anything else she came across that she thought the hospice staff would pack up were they to troll through the room. She knew there were some more pills in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, but Mitch came back at that moment, derailing her very short train of thought.

  “Thank you,” she said, taking her phone back.

  “Not necessary,” Mitch said matter-of-factly. “Is this all the stuff?”

  “Uh, yeah, I think so,” Angela said, not being quick enough to grab the baskets before Mitch did. She was running out of ways to express her gratitude, but thought of one when she saw the grocery bag sitting on the counter next to the roses. “Not to be an enabler, but…in case you were planning on picking it back up,” she said to Mitch, reaching into the bag. “I think I probably owe you a couple packs by now. Split the carton?”

  “When did you get those?” Mitch asked, setting the baskets down by the door. He looked eager to pick the habit back up; he’d quit for Vince once he’d found out Angela had, even though he never knew Angela had quit as a condition for trying for a baby.

  “Had my dad sneak them in. My mom wouldn’t approve. Were you planning on staying quit?” Angela asked before tearing open the flap on the carton.

  “No way,” Mitch said, catching a pack that Angela tossed him.

  She kept one for herself, too, perfectly willing to kiss Vince’s security deposit goodbye, planning to enjoy a smoke in the bedroom by the window whenever she wanted. There was no need for her to leave the apartment any time soon.
She stashed the carton on top of the fridge and made sure Mitch saw where. “Help yourself, just don’t leave them out for Charlie to see.”

  “Thanks. You, uh…gonna be okay if I go out for a smoke?”

  “Smoke by the window for all I care,” Angela said, shrugging.

  Mitch rubbed his still puffed up eyes and grinned. “I think I need the fresh air.”

  “Fair enough. Hey, um…how are you doing?”

  Mitch let out a long sigh and shrugged his shoulders. “Moving from shocked to depressed, I think. I hardly remember when our dad died, but I was old enough to remember every second of watching our mom die. She had several strokes,” he explained; Vince had already told Angela in detail. “I think that helped me be a little more prepared for the moment, you know? But at the same time, Vince was the last adult in my immediate family. You can’t get much more alone than that. So…”

  “I’m sorry,” Angela said, leaning sideways against the counter. “I can’t imagine what it must feel like having no choice in how much this affects you. I had somewhat of a choice but you…you didn’t. I know I’m kind of a mess but if there’s anything I can do for you, will you let me know? Even if it’s just dodging phone calls,” she said lightly.

  “Me having to dodge phone calls would require someone giving a rip,” Mitch quipped. “I should be fine, but I’ll let you know if I need anything,” he said more seriously. “And you do the same.”

  “Okay.” Angela didn’t foresee needing much help with her immediate plans, which were to crawl into bed and see how long she could go without leaving it.

  “Hey, you hungry?” Mitch asked hopefully.

  “Not right now, but thanks for asking. Is there enough food in here for you, though? I don’t know what’s in the fridge but my dad brought by some junk food and said he’d bring by some real stuff later.”

  “Don’t worry about me. If I can’t find something to eat I can order a pizza.” Mitch seemed to know Angela’s plans exactly. “I hope you can get some sleep,” he said before stepping into a pair of shoes and opening the door.

  “Thanks.” Feeling the most relaxed she had felt since the night before when she’d fallen asleep, Angela set her phone to vibrate and began the process of nesting. It was a much more complex version of what she’d done on the hallway floor the night before, when Vince had insisted he’d wanted to die alone. She would get to sleep on the bed this time, but before she did, she arranged things to her liking.

  All the flower arrangements went by the east-facing window, which she left closed off for now. The July sun wasn’t exactly conducive to deep sleep. She then gathered pictures—of them, of Charlie, Frankie, and the team—from around the apartment and set them up on Vince’s nightstand. She found his pillows and put them back in his spot. After shutting the bedroom door, turning out the lights, and shutting both sets of curtains more securely, she was ready for whatever—sleeping, crying, lying there motionless. As long as she could rest where he last had, imagine his arms around her, maybe, then she would be somewhat consoled. She turned back the covers and climbed in, her tears instantly soaking his pillowcase.

  Just as she had wished, she felt a broad hand on her cheek. Try as she might to imagine Vince’s palm framing her face, what she felt was far more real and far more powerful than anything her mind could conjure up.

  Even a week’s worth of good sleeps like the one she had the night before wouldn’t have left her with enough energy to deal with the emotions of the day that wasn’t even half over yet. So she let the arms of her Father wrap around her and wept unabashedly until the back of her head pounded and she could cry no more. She slept, but not for long. Soon after dozing off, her slumber was interrupted by a dream.

  A rounded belly was covered lovingly with two sets of hands—one hers, one Vince’s, her guiding him to the source of the kicking.

  As she awoke, gasping, she immediately knew the underlying theme that would probably accompany every nightmare. Dashed hopes. Hopes for a future she’d known was impossible as soon as she had seriously considered it six months ago.

  When she finally calmed herself enough to fall back asleep, another dream plagued her.

  They introduced Charlie to his dark-haired baby sister, sitting him on the couch and having him put out his arms so he could hold her for the first time. The couch wasn’t in their current living room, but in a bigger one. Vince, far healthier than he had been since promising himself to Angela, stood next to her and slipped an arm around her waist while they watched Charlie soak in being a big brother.

  The second dream also roused Angela and made her suck in a giant breath, just to let it back out in a hideous moan. She thought she heard footsteps outside the door, but if Mitch had come down the hall to check on her, he didn’t stay long. The footsteps left and she tried to go back to sleep, but it greeted her no more. Frustrated, she tried to think of a way to force herself to sleep and remembered the last of Vince’s medication in their bathroom.

  Even at his lightest weight, Vince had still weighed not much less than Angela. Since he’d had side effects from the methadone, she took only one pill before making her way back to bed.

  Angela stood in front of Vince’s open casket at his wake and reached in to touch his face, if for no other reason than to remind herself with the chilled skin that this wasn’t him. As her knuckle brushed his bristly cheek, his shocking blue eyes popped open a sliver at first, then all the way. She recoiled in fear as he sat up slowly in his coffin and climbed out of it with impossible grace. She looked behind her for others’ reactions, but no one was there. It was just the two of them. Suddenly, though, she no longer felt so fearful. The coffin was gone and Vince had his arms held out slightly at his sides, inviting her in. She ran the two steps between them and into his surprisingly solid embrace. He was warm now, but she could still feel the same bones poking through his clothing. Just as quickly as his arms had wrapped around her, they let go. He stepped away from her, remorse washing over his face before his body simply dissolved, falling to the floor like sand. In only seconds, he was a pile of dirt with his clothes pooled on top.

  Though the room was closed off to the world outside with curtains and blinds, Angela could tell the sun was still high in the sky when she awoke from her latest nightmare. A few hours had passed at best.

  So she couldn’t sleep. She had to accept that fact. Maybe it was God’s way of getting her to talk to someone instead of holing up in her room. If that was the case, she didn’t see how it was at all fair. She’d contained her misery rather well for weeks now for the sake of others. Hadn’t that earned her some rest?

  When she got up to see what other aids the medicine cabinet might have to help her in the fight against a migraine and insomnia, she felt dizzy. The methadone was peaking in her system now, she figured. She wondered if there was a way to make herself so tired that her brain didn’t have the strength to dream. Before she gave in to the temptation of popping a morphine to see if that would do the trick, she got the sudden feeling she was being watched. She whipped around, almost losing her balance, only to find herself still alone.

  Her body ached for sleep more than it ever had before, and she was ready to give it anything it needed to get that relief. But that feeling of being watched had visited her for a reason. With barely cooperating hands, she opened up all the prescription pill bottles in sight and emptied every last one into the toilet. While the toilet flushed, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She had certainly seen better days. Oily, colorless skin, stringy hair, dark circles under her eyes showed her just what condition she was in. There was no way around it. She needed sleep and she needed it now.

  Feeling like she’d failed miserably at such a simple task, she opened the bedroom door and crept down the hall, unsure of what she was looking for. Mitch snored lightly in front of a baseball game, a half-eaten bowl of soggy cereal sitting on the coffee table. She still wasn’t hungry and that sight didn’t help, but she thought of something e
lse that might calm her. Mitch’s pack of cigarettes sat next to his cereal. The creaking of the floor underneath her weight sent his eyes shooting open. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, wincing. “I just need a light.”

  “Can’t sleep?” Mitch asked gruffly, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

  “I keep having nightmares,” Angela said without taking the time to filter herself. Maybe that was best. Here sat a person who probably related to her more closely than anyone else right now. He had just been getting to know Vince and had more than his fair share of regrets about not doing it sooner. Angela knew that feeling well.

  And she couldn’t help but think that she’d turned down every person who’d offered to support her so far, while Mitch really had only her. He still wasn’t Jenna’s number one fan, so he wouldn’t be running to her any time soon, and he’d never spoken of any close friends in Chicago or elsewhere. And as far as she knew, he’d never called anyone, either. He had distant relatives, but no one close enough to come to see Vince before he’d died.

  Mitch didn’t ask Angela if she wanted to talk about her nightmares. Over time she’d conditioned him not to, and this morning had been a minor setback. They were apparently back to occasional hugs when she looked like she needed one. She found herself wishing that weren’t the case—that he would pry just a little—but he just sat there.

  “Sorry I woke you up,” she said.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he mumbled, handing her the lighter.

  Angela stood there, rolling her thumb along the wheel until it went numb. “I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you so much.”

  “You’ve gotta find your own way to cope,” Mitch said with a shrug. “Some of us like talking, some don’t.”

  “Yeah…”

  “You gonna let your friends in?” Mitch asked, sitting back and picking at a thumbnail.

  “Eventually. But at least they have each other. They don’t need me specifically. In fact, it’s probably easier for them if they don’t see me right now.”

  “If you say so.”

  If Mitch was unreceptive, Angela was sure it was her fault. She wanted to go back to her room and chain smoke by the window until the methadone wore off and her dreams could at least remain bittersweet instead of terrifying. But even though it killed her light sensitive eyes, she cracked open the living room window instead, opening up the blinds and pushing the drapes further back so she could remain there for Mitch.

  She eyed her cigarette. She remembered very well the promise she’d made to Vince when they’d decided to try for a baby. It hadn’t been a conditional promise. And he’d used the words “for good.” She felt sick and put the pack down, wringing her hands in her lap instead.

  “Change your mind?”

  “I promised him,” she said shakily. “I can’t.”

  “Probably best. You feeling okay?” Mitch asked. “I mean, beyond the obvious.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You look like you’re a little dizzy. Just tired?”

  “I popped a methadone,” Angela confessed. “I had a headache and thought it might help put me to sleep a little, too. Just messed with my dreams instead.”

  “That stuff’s gonna get you a nice little high. It’s probably not a good idea to self-medicate, not right now.”

  “I flushed all the pills I could find.”

  “I’m surprised you’re not puking your guts out with even that one pill. Vince could hardly handle them at first.”

  “Nothing in my stomach,” Angela said. “Although I guess I could have the dry heaves again. But let’s not jinx it.” She melted against the wall and looked around the room, spotting a few flower arrangements on the dining room table. She’d walked right by them. “Who sent flowers?”

  “Your friends, I’m guessing. I dunno, I didn’t look.”

  Angela walked over to the flowers and pulled out a card.

  Hanson.

  Another. Charlie’s great aunt. So there was hope after all.

  Sophie and Paul. Marshall. It looked as though the team was still out of town.

  She tucked the cards back into their respective arrangements just as the doorbell rang. She found herself signing for several more deliveries. The counter and dining room table were full by the time the deliveryman left.

  “Wow,” Angela said under her breath.

  “We’re gonna need a bigger place if they keep coming,” Mitch said, coming up behind her with his hands in his pockets.

  Just like that, it wasn’t about the nightmares or pain pills or cigarettes anymore. The idea of their apartment being filled with flowers from people whose lives Vince had touched made things all too clear again. He was gone, and more and more people were finding out. It was no longer a private matter.

  Out of habit, Angela tried to suck back her tears and think up an excuse for going back to bed so she could be alone again. But when she turned to tell Mitch about her plans, she saw that the flowers had produced the very same reaction in him—only he wasn’t so shy about crying. Without another thought, she hugged him, tucking her chin firmly into his shoulder.

  To say this was a cure for her pain would be too generous a statement, but it was at least cathartic to cry openly with someone else without letting herself feel guilty or uncomfortable about it.

  Mitch found his composure before she found hers, then backed away when his phone rang. “It’s Jenna,” he said, plucking it off the coffee table. “Hey,” he answered. “Uh, I dunno…let me go check.” He palmed his phone and mouthed to Angela, “Are you awake?”

  She gave him a watery smile and nodded her thanks. If she was stuck in the world of the conscious, then she might as well try to help with Charlie.

  “Hi,” she answered, her voice cracking.

  “Hey,” Jenna said. She sounded far too calm, but Angela remembered she had a little boy who needed her. She didn’t have the luxury of hiding under blankets and crying her eyes out. “How’re you holding up?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know,” Angela said. “You?”

  “Hanging in there, I guess,” Jenna replied.

  “Have you…have you told Charlie?” Angela asked.

  “Yeah, I told him when we got home from practice.”

  Angela nodded to nobody and let quiet sobs rack her body again. Mitch watched on helplessly.

  “He wants to see you,” Jenna said after a pause. “He cried himself to sleep just now, but before he did, he said it’s the weekend so he’s supposed to be with you and he misses you.” Surprising Angela, Jenna didn’t sound the least bit bitter.

  “He said that?”

  “Yeah. Want him to come over?”

  “Of course. Whatever he wants.”

  “Okay. I’ll bring him over when he wakes up. Need anything?”

  “No, we’re good, thanks.”

  “I’ll cook up something while Charlie’s sleeping anyway. I mean this in the nicest way possible, but you need to eat,” Jenna said frankly.

  “So I hear.”

  “What’s your favorite?” Jenna asked.

  “Anything laced with sleeping pills,” Angela joked.

  “Fresh out of sleeping pills, but I do make a mean mac and cheese and I’ll pick up some over-the-counter sleep aid on my way over,” Jenna said alluringly. “If I cook, will you at least try it?”

  “You really don’t have to,” Angela insisted.

  “I want to. I feel kind of useless over here.”

  “You lost somebody, too,” Angela fought to say. “Besides, you’ve been taking—care of Charlie. You broke the news to him. I think you should—get a medal for that alone.”

  It was too soon for laughter, but Angela could sense an appreciative grin from Jenna. “I’ll see you in a while.”

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  “What, you two are friends now?” Mitch teased, taking his phone back.

  “Hopefully we’re off to a good start,” Angela said, “and even if we’re just pretending, it looks like we’re
pretty good at it.”

  “Guess so. You gonna try and sleep again?”

  Angela blotted her cheeks dry with the heels of her hands. “Probably. I think we should clean up a little first, though, and I need to shower. We’ll see what kind of time I have left after that.”

  “I can clean up, don’t worry about it,” Mitch said. “I got some sleep.”

  “I need to be doing something now that I’m up,” Angela said. After they tidied up, Angela retreated to bed for a while, saving a shower for later.

  She found sleep easily enough again, but it was still of the haunted variety. Some dreams were like her earlier ones, cruel but not revolting. Others were flat out nightmares.

  Walking hand-in-hand with him in the park only to have him vanish from right beside her. Sitting in his oncologist’s office as the patient, finding out she had pancreatic cancer as well, and turning to look to Vince for support, but not finding him. Lounging on the couch with Vince and running her fingers through his thick hair while he palmed her baby bump with one hand and browsed online real estate listings with the other.

  She learned to settle for sleep between dreams. This pattern continued for a couple of hours until Jenna called. Angela washed her hair and scrubbed down her body vigorously in the shower. She was dressed just in time to greet Charlie with a hug as he and Jenna walked in. She noticed the apartment had been deluged with even more flowers while she had slept fitfully. “Hi, honey,” she said, crouching down and holding on to him tightly. He held to her just as fast.

  She didn’t expect much excitement from him, but the relative unresponsiveness was heartbreaking. Jenna took her phone out of her purse, pointed to the screen, and sent Angela a text message.

  He’s been very clingy. Won’t let me out of his sight. Obviously he’s okay here, but just so you know. Also sucking his thumb.

  Angela felt sick as she nodded and mouthed her thanks. Jenna left a bag on the counter and departed after some quick hugs and promises to bring by more food eventually.

  Charlie hardly said a word for an hour straight. Angela and Mitch each tried cuddling with him on the couch, asking him if he wanted to talk, offering to play his favorite cartoons or warm up the macaroni and cheese his aunt had prepared. Nothing filled the void his father had left, though.

  Angela eyed the clock under the television as she saw the sun starting to set. Was it really only eight o’clock? Had it really been half a day since Vince had died? Charlie stared blankly at the cartoons on the screen, leaning slightly into Angela. Mitch, who sat in the recliner, signaled to Angela with hands folded under his cheek that Charlie was drifting off. She checked and, sure enough, his eyelids were drooping. “Wanna put your PJs on and go to bed, honey?” she asked, rubbing tiny circles on his back. “You can sleep with me if you want.”

  “I don’t wanna sleep in Daddy’s bed!” Charlie shrieked, causing Angela and Mitch to jump out of their skin. Angela clutched him to her chest and buried her lips in his hair, apologizing while he hid his high-pitched cries in her shirt. Once Angela’s heart found its way back into her chest, she actually felt relieved that Charlie had lashed out. The silence had been too worrisome.

  “It’s okay, sweetie. You don’t have to sleep in Daddy’s bed. Wanna sleep out here?” she asked. Charlie nodded. “Can I stay with you?” He nodded again. “Okay, then. Let’s all get in our PJs and have ourselves a sleepover. Did you bring any bedtime stories in your backpack?”

  Charlie shook his head. “I forgot. I want you to come with me and help me with my PJs.” Angela exchanged a deeply troubled glance with Mitch before following Charlie.

  “You hungry, big guy?” Mitch asked when they reappeared.

  “Yeah. Can we eat the macaroni Auntie Jen made now?” Charlie asked timidly, seemingly ashamed of his outburst.

  “You betcha. I’ll start the oven up. It might be a while,” Mitch said.

  “But I’m hungry now,” Charlie whined.

  “Okay, okay, we’ll microwave it. How about some cookies while we wait?” Angela offered, trying to prevent a tantrum. “My daddy brought me some. They’re the oatmeal kind with frosting. You like those ones, right?”

  Charlie followed Angela into the kitchen, weaving through the flowers. She poured him a glass of milk and sat with him at the dining room table.

  “Aren’t you gonna have cookies, too?” Charlie asked as he dunked his own into his milk. He left the cookie in for too long and it fell part, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  “I’m not really all that hungry, honey,” Angela said, a hand on the boy’s head.

  “You should take one of Daddy’s hungry pills.”

  Angela looked quickly to Mitch and they both cracked a chuckle. The laughter was unsettling, though, and came to an abrupt halt. “They, uh, took all of Daddy’s pills this morning because we don’t need them anymore. You’re not supposed to take pills that don’t have your name on the bottle. But I’ll tell you what. I’ll try and have a couple cookies. Would that make you feel better?”

  Charlie nodded. “I’ll get you some milk.”

  “How about I take care of that,” Mitch said, getting up from his seat and tousling Charlie’s hair. “I think I’ll have some, too.”

  Though Angela’s appetite didn’t really return, she was able to stomach some cookies with the boys before they returned to the living room, ready to try and sleep again.

  “Who gave us all the flowers?” Charlie asked, climbing into his uncle’s lap in the recliner this time.

  “Lots of people,” Mitch said as he put up the footrest.

  “How come they send flowers?” Charlie inquired, having no idea how relieving it was for Angela and Mitch to hear him asking questions.

  “It’s tradition,” Angela said. “Flowers make people happy. They’re pretty and they remind them of life instead of death.”

  “I like the white ones right there,” Charlie said, pointing to the roses Angela’s mother had arranged neatly in a vase.

  “My parents brought those,” Angela said with a smile.

  “For you?”

  “For all of us,” Angela answered.

  “Auntie Jen said it’s okay to be sad,” Charlie said, sliding down from his uncle’s lap.

  “Of course it is,” Angela said, holding her arms open for him, confused as to why he felt the need to share that tidbit. She noticed now that he had Chip with him. He climbed into her lap and let her wrap them up in a blanket.

  “Then you can be sad,” Charlie said plainly.

  “I am sad,” Angela said. “What makes you think I’m not?”

  “You’re not crying.”

  “Well…I cried a lot today,” Angela said. “Just because I’m not crying doesn’t mean I’m not sad. Are you sad?”

  Charlie nodded.

  “Well, see? You’re sad but you’re not crying. Trust me, sweetie, I miss your daddy very much.”

  “Me too,” Charlie said gloomily. “Auntie Jen said he’s okay though ’cause he’s in heaven.”

  “She’s absolutely right. Is there anything you’re wondering about? Any questions you have?”

  Charlie shrugged and slipped back into his torpor without any warning. Mitch hit the light switch behind him.

  “How about we go to sleep,” Mitch proposed. “I can make pancakes for breakfast in the morning. That sound good, Charlie?”

  “Yeah…”

  Angela lay down along the couch and tucked Charlie underneath her arm. “You comfy?” she asked.

  “I feel like I’m gonna fall,” Charlie said.

  “Okay. Huh.” Angela sat up, tucked some pillows behind her back and half-reclined against the arm of the couch so she could still breathe when Charlie curled up on top of her. She knew her back would not be thanking her in the morning if she slept like this, but some sleep was better than none at all. And Charlie sleeping peacefully was even more important. “That better?” she asked sweetly.

  Charlie nodded but was soon crying again. “I mis
s—when Daddy tucked me in,” he whimpered before falling victim to another full crying bout.

  “I know. It’s okay. I love you and your aunt and uncle love you and everything’s gonna be just fine,” Angela said to him. He didn’t respond, just cried himself almost to sleep, then fell the rest of the way under with his thumb tucked inside his mouth.

  “He’s sucking his thumb. He’s never done that as long as I’ve known him,” Angela said. “Jenna warned me. She said he’s been really clingy, too.”

  “I’m sure it’s all normal,” he said.

  “He’s regressing. It’s a way kids deal with trauma.”

  “Like I said, then, it’s normal. He’s been through a trauma.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Angela said shakily. “I guess I just…thought he would be immune to all that. Stupid, I know.”

  “He’s just a little kid. Don’t forget that,” Mitch said. “And I know he’s not light. You all right over there? I can bring him to his bed if you want.”

  “No, no, I don’t want him to wake up all alone. We’re fine here.”

  “Did I see sleeping pills on the counter?”

  “Yeah, Jenna brought them for me. I don’t think I should take them with Charlie here, though. I don’t know if he’ll sleep through the night and I don’t want to be all groggy if he needs something.”

  “All right then. G’night. Hope you can get some sleep.”

  “Goodnight.”

  Angela dreaded falling asleep, knowing she might wake up in another panic and scare Charlie when that was the last thing he needed. Not to mention she didn’t want any more of cruel dreams in the first place. But physical and mental fatigue combined forces to pull her into a slumber so deep that when she woke up the next morning to the rich sounds and smells of breakfast being made, she wasn’t sure she had had a single dream. She wondered if maybe she had been tired enough for dreamless sleep all along, but needed Charlie with her. It certainly made sense from a mothering standpoint. Her family hadn’t completely died with Vince. She hadn’t lost everything. She just needed Charlie as a physical reminder.

  “Hi, Angela,” Charlie said when she ambled toward him. He sat patiently at the table, waiting for his pancakes.

  “Morning,” Mitch chimed in.

  “Good morning, guys,” she said back, smiling. She squatted down next to Charlie and pulled him close, feeling her back crack in a few places. “Thank you, Charlie.”

  “For what?”

  “For cuddling with me last night. I had a hard time sleeping yesterday but I slept like a baby when you were here. I really needed that.”

  “You’re welcome. Want me to sleep with you again tonight?”

  “I would love that. What would you like to do today?”

  “Maybe we could go to the park,” Mitch suggested.

  “If we’re all well enough to go to the park, then we’re well enough to go to church,” Angela said. “We still have time if we eat quick and get ready now.”

  Charlie shook his head. “I don’t wanna go to Sunday School.”

  “How come?” Angela asked.

  “I wanna stay with you.”

  “Well, you can stay with me for the whole service if you want. You don’t have to go to Sunday school. Either way, I think church would be a good place for us right now.”

  “Do we have to go to the park?” Charlie asked.

  “Not if you don’t want to,” Mitch replied. “But we might have a little company,” he added, bringing over a platter with pancakes and bacon on it. “Harry called, said the team’s on their way home.”

  “Oh, that’s good,” Angela said. “I think I should wait until tomorrow to see them, though. I think it’s better if…things are quiet around here for today.”

  “You know people are gonna be dropping by with food and more flowers, at least,” Mitch said.

  “Yeah, well, we’ll just have to put up with that, but I’m not going to invite more chaos.”

  “What kind of food are they gonna bring? Is Sophie gonna make more cookies?” Charlie asked, perking up a little.

  Angela grinned and smoothed Charlie’s bedhead while Mitch cut up his food for him. “I’m sure she would make you some if we asked nicely.”

  “Can I call her and ask her?” Charlie asked.

  “Sure, after breakfast. But that means we’ll have more people coming over. I can’t let Sophie come over and then say no to everyone else. Are you going to be okay with a little more company?”

  Charlie nodded. “They can watch movies with me if they want. As long as I get to sit by you.”

  “You bet. So, how did you sleep last night?” Angela asked him.

  “I had one bad dream but I got back to sleep.” Charlie poured his own syrup over his pancakes, oblivious to the concerned stare shared between Angela and his uncle.

  “You can wake someone up when you have a bad dream,” Mitch said.

  “Your uncle’s right,” Angela piped in. “Can you tell me what your dream was about, or would it make you too sad?”

  “I don’t wanna talk about it,” Charlie said, shaking his head.

  Angela sighed and gave him another kiss on his crown. “That’s okay. I do want you to go see Dr. Birmingham sometime soon, though. Maybe tomorrow. Can you do that for me? Talk to her? You know she helps make sure things aren’t so scary.”

  “Okay,” Charlie said. “But only if you go with me.”

  —

  Angela hid behind her parents, Mitch, and Jenna on their way into church, not wanting the attention she knew was coming her way. Miraculously, most of the other congregants seemed to know that she was there for the service and not for condolences, but some still stopped by their pew to express their sympathies.

  Pastor Fenwick spotted them and flashed them a peaceful smile before he read the day’s announcements, one of which, of course, was to inform the congregation of the upcoming funeral. Angela knew they were in for it once they left church, but for now she tried to focus on the sermon. Fortunately, Charlie dozed off against her side. He even slept through the closing hymn, not allowing her to stand. When Angela spotted the influx of people who hadn’t yet known of Vince’s passing, people who actively sought the family out, tears formed in her eyes and she picked up Charlie, using his sleeping state as a shield.

  “Poor little doll,” an old woman said. “Where’s he going to live?”

  “You must be heartbroken. Is there anything we can do?”

  “I didn’t know your husband too well, but he seemed like a good man. Hope the little guy handles it all right.”

  “We have to go,” Angela muttered to her father in the middle of the crowded narthex. “I’m sorry, I’m not ready for this, and I don’t want to wake Charlie up.”

  “You don’t want to stay behind and talk to the pastor?” Mitch offered. “We can take Charlie out to the car.”

  “Or I can, even,” Jenna offered.

  “I just need to get out of here. Pastor will understand.” She thought of inviting Jenna over to the apartment, but the fatigue was clear in Jenna’s every step. The same went for Angela’s parents. It was a fatigue that she feared she would get to know all too well.

  —

  After church, no one pushed the idea of going to the park. They plopped down in front of the television right where they had slept, watching whatever Charlie pleased. It wasn’t until they got another large delivery of flowers that Angela and Mitch saw the prudence in being presentable. With Charlie napping, Angela snuck off for a shower. When she emerged patting her hair dry with a towel, the entire team was waiting, sitting and watching Charlie’s movie with him. He sat in Mitch’s lap. “Hey, guys,” she said, getting greetings back from everyone else.

  Charlie seemed to have merely settled for his uncle’s lap, as he immediately hopped down and went to Angela, hugging her waist. “You weren’t supposed to leave,” he reminded her. “Can you pick me up?”

  Angela wasn’t sure whether she should enable further regr
essive behavior, but she hated saying no to him at a time like this. “How about you sit in my lap?” she offered.

  Charlie accepted this, waiting for Angela to take his spot between Marshall and Sophie before he sat on her knees and flung his arms around her.

  Angela knew Marshall and Sophie meant well when they enveloped her and Charlie, but she felt smothered. But she didn’t even need to say a thing. “Don’t!” Charlie hollered, pushing their hands away.

  “Charlie,” Angela cooed, leaning her head down and talking into his ear. “Hey, what’s that all about? They’re just trying to give us a hug…”

  “I don’t want them to hug us,” Charlie said, curling up and burying his face into Angela’s side. She didn’t think it was possible for her heart to break into tinier pieces, but Charlie proved her wrong with his display.

  She caught Mitch’s eye. He looked just as worried as she felt. “Can you excuse us for just a second, guys?” she said, looking around her.

  “Of course,” Sophie said.

  “Maybe we should come back later,” Harry offered.

  “Let me just see if I can talk to him,” Angela muttered. “Charlie, can we go back to your room for a minute?”

  “Am I in trouble?” Charlie asked.

  “No, no, no, you’re not in trouble. I just want for us to talk privately. We haven’t really had a chance to do that, have we?”

  Charlie led the way to his bedroom, looking behind him to make sure Angela was following him. She felt every set of eyes on them until they disappeared into his room. She shut the door behind them and sat down on Charlie’s unmade bed, her back against the wall. Then she rubbed her knee, beckoning Charlie up into her lap again. He didn’t need to be asked twice.

  “I’m sorry if Marshall and Sophie scared you,” Angela said, her hand starting an up-and-down stroking motion along Charlie’s curved back. His cheek was to her chest now. “They just wanted us to feel better.”

  “But it doesn’t make me feel better,” Charlie retorted.

  “Okay, well, they didn’t know that. They didn’t mean any harm, honey, okay?”

  “Okay. Do I have to go back out there?”

  “Not if you don’t want to. Want to stay in here and take a little nap, maybe?”

  Charlie nodded. “Can you fit with me?” he asked, clambering out of her lap and grabbing the blankets and pillows that had been arranged neatly at the foot of his bed when Angela and Mitch had cleaned the day before. They were the very same blankets and pillows with which Angela had formed a makeshift bed in the hallway the night before Vince’s death.

  “You want me to take a nap with you?”

  Charlie nodded.

  “I’d love that. Let me just go tell my friends I can’t talk right now, okay? I’ll be right back.”

  “No!” Charlie cried. “I don’t want you to go.” He dropped the blanket he was unfolding and closed his arms around her waist again, locking her in place.

  “Honey, I’m not leaving,” Angela said gently, her stomach churning at the sight and sound of a boy so broken that she could hardly recognize him. “I just need to ask them to come back another time. You can come out there with me if you want.”

  “Nuh-uh! I just want them to go away! This isn’t their house!”

  “Charlie, I need you to calm down,” Angela sighed, sitting at the edge of the bed and holding Charlie out in front of her. She lifted his chin. “Listen to me, sweetheart. I know you’re sad and I know you miss your daddy. I’m doing everything I can to help make you feel safe and happy again. But you—you have to work with me, okay? You have to trust me. When I say I’m going down the hall, it just means I’m going down the hall.” Angela realized a little late in the game that not only was Charlie still traumatized by witnessing the progression of his father’s illness and having to say goodbye to him twice, but when he piled his father’s death on top of his mother’s, he was also left with an overwhelming fear of abandonment. That would explain why Angela couldn’t even walk down the hall without him now. “Charlie, I’m not going to leave you.”

  “Not even to go down the hall?” Charlie asked, not getting her point.

  She held back a frustrated sigh and caved in to his need for her unwavering protection. “Not even to go down the hall. Let’s finish making your bed and sleep for a while.”

  Placated, Charlie worked with Angela to remake his bed and climbed underneath the covers with her. It was a tight fit and Angela could feel Charlie’s breath on her face when they faced each other on the pillows. She hadn’t really gotten a good look at his eyes since he’d arrived the night before. The Charlie she knew and loved was still there, just not engaged in the same way. He didn’t look at her with the love he normally did. His eyes spoke only of grief and fear. “I love you so much,” she whispered, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear and repeating the motion with her fingers.

  “I love you, too,” he said habitually.

  “Ready for our nap now?” she asked.

  Charlie answered by hooking an arm under hers, holding her hostage. “I miss Daddy,” he said before letting out a child-sized sob.

  “I know, baby. So do I.”

  As Angela listened to Charlie cry himself to sleep again, she wondered just how long things would go on like this. How would she even be able to get ready in the morning, let alone persuade Charlie to go back to his aunt’s? She hoped a child’s craving for a routine would lend her a helping hand.

  It was Angela’s nature to dwell on these thoughts, to want to find a solution to them now, but the evening out of Charlie’s breathing proved a little contagious. She knew she had lost so much sleep over the past few weeks that she would never gain it all back, but if she was chained to this bedroom and knew that peaceful sleep was possible with Charlie tangled up in her arms, she figured that staying awake with her thoughts would be an opportunity wasted.

  As her eyes fluttered slowly shut, she hoped her friends would understand.

  —

  When Charlie opened his eyes an hour later, he waited for Angela to awaken too before he moved a muscle. She came to not long after.

  “I’m awake now,” Charlie informed her.

  “I see. Did you have a nice nap?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” Charlie answered. “I’m hungry.”

  “Okay, then. You know what? I think I smell mac and cheese. I bet your uncle’s got it in the oven right now. Wanna go have some? And maybe some of the cookies Sophie brought for you?”

  Charlie’s meager nod was worlds better than him clinging to her and insisting she didn’t leave his sight. He still made sure she was following him down the hall, though.

  “There you are,” Mitch said to both of them. “Who wants some macaroni? Or one of five other types of comfort foods? Fridge is full thanks to your friends.”

  “Macaroni sounds good, right, Charlie?” Angela said. He nodded vaguely, holding on to her hand. She wasn’t sure if she was actually hungry, but at least the thought of eating didn’t nauseate her. That was a start. “Sorry about earlier, by the way. Did the team understand?” she asked, shooting her friends a quick text message to explain.

  “Yeah,” Mitch said, dismissing her worries with a casual nod. “They said to call them when it’s okay to come over.”

  “Great. Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it. Anyone want some chocolate milk?”

  Much to his and Angela’s relief, Charlie ate well. “Do we have any ice cream?” he asked over his clean plate.

  Angela finished her scoop of macaroni and gave Charlie an apologetic smile. “Sorry, fresh out. I can go get some, though. What kind—”

  “I want Uncle Mitch to go, not you,” Charlie said, his voice rising into a whine instantly.

  “Okay, okay, okay,” Angela said hastily. “Why don’t you, umm…go into your room and get some toys out of your backpack? I saw you packed a Transformer. I want to see how it works.”

  “Do you promise you won’t go anywhere?”
Charlie asked.

  “I promise. Go get it.”

  The second Charlie was out of their sight, Angela sighed and hid her weary face in her hands. “We need to make an appointment for him.”

  “I already called the doctor’s cell. We’re set for tomorrow.”

  “Thanks again. You’ve been so helpful and I’ve been…well….”

  Angela wished she had more time to talk things over with Mitch, but Charlie came hurrying down the hall. “I changed my mind, I want you to come with me,” he said.

  —

  Angela put a finger to her lips when she opened the door to Sophie late that evening. Harry and Marshall had agreed to come by the next day, when, if everything went according to plan, Charlie would be with Jenna. For now, though, the apartment was quiet and needed to stay that way. Mitch slept on his air mattress in Charlie’s room to leave Angela a place to meet with her friend.

  “I’m so sorry we upset Charlie,” Sophie said, diving in for a hug. Angela didn’t feel so smothered this time, which was promising.

  “You had no way of knowing he’d react that way,” Angela said, shaking her head. “Even I didn’t see it coming. He ended up getting really clingy with me. Wouldn’t even let me leave the bedroom to say goodbye to you guys, and it just got worse and worse and worse…”

  “Poor little thing,” Sophie sighed. “That must be hard on you, too. All of that falling on your shoulders.”

  “It’s nothing compared to what he’s feeling,” Angela said. “He’s only six and doesn’t have any parents.” Angela wept over Sophie’s shoulder and got in her first good sob of the day that didn’t occur in the safety of the shower. She couldn’t help but feel a little resentful that today couldn’t have been like yesterday. Crying relentlessly had felt good even if it didn’t lead to sleep. “I miss him so much, Soph.”

  “So do I,” Sophie said, smoothing Angela’s hair over the back of her head. “Wanna sit?” she asked after quite a while of just standing there, both of them holding one another.

  Angela shook her head. “I need to lie down. In my own bed. I haven’t been in there since Charlie got here, really, and—I lay in there all day yesterday but couldn’t sleep because I kept having these dreams—” Angela stopped for a long sniffle and let her friend lead her down the hallway. Sophie was about to lie down on Vince’s side of the bed when Angela stopped her. “Hang on, I’m sorry. I need—I just need the pillows.” Angela could smell Sophie’s perfume everywhere. If her artifacts were to be preserved, they needed to be put away for now. Thankfully, Sophie didn’t ask any questions when Angela put the pillows in the closet on Vince’s side.

  “You’re doing such a good job with Charlie,” Sophie said as the two of them lay down, sharing a few pillows. “I know this hurts, and I know taking care of him is—is making it so much harder—but it’s not for nothing.”

  “I know.” Angela swallowed a vast breath and let her head loll onto Sophie’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I’ve been so—unreceptive. It’s selfish.”

  “No, it’s not,” Sophie reassured her. “This has been so much harder on you than it has been on any of us. We lost a friend, but you lost your soul mate.”

  “Love is love,” Angela said, shaking her head. “Just because you guys didn’t marry him doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt you just as much. Besides, I asked for this. I have to suffer the consequences. I can’t sit here and be all ‘woe is me’ and ignore everybody else.”

  “You have every right to mourn. And yeah, we loved him, too, but we have a different perspective,” Sophie corrected her. “You…you stayed home from work and watched all of this happen. And even before that, you’d seen him almost every day since what, February? It’s a much bigger transition for you and the whole process was much more traumatic. Don’t—don’t feel bad about not opening up your home to us or wanting to talk. You’re tired and you’re taking care of Charlie, too—not just yourself. It’s understandable that we’re a little lower on the totem pole.”

  “I couldn’t even go to the bathroom today without him,” Angela said, her hand under her nose. “He’d only let me out of his sight for that, but I had to keep the door open. Just once, I tried to tell him I wasn’t going anywhere and then I shut the door, and he threw such a big tantrum that it took both me and Mitch to calm him down. And to top it off, he won’t come in this room at all. He wants nothing to do with this room right now, so I went in the hallway bathroom with the door open. Thankfully Mitch had the decency to come in here and shut the door so I had some privacy.

  “But still…I don’t mean for it to sound like I don’t love Charlie. I do. But it’s so draining to hold all of this back and make sure he’s okay at the same time, and I don’t even have the option of letting someone else take him for a little while. I shouldn’t even be in here right now. I should be with him. I couldn’t tell him you were coming over because I knew he wouldn’t go to sleep if he knew I’d be leaving him even for a second. Hopefully his grief counselor can help him. This isn’t good for him. This isn’t like him.” Angela was surprised to have finished such a monologue uninterrupted.

  “He’s just a little boy, sweetie. He’s coping the only way he knows how,” Sophie said soothingly. “I promise you, he’ll be okay. It’s just gonna take some time. Tell me about you for now,” she went on, fishing around for one of Angela’s hands and locking fingers with her. “You said you were having dreams?”

  “Some of them are dreams, I guess. Others were more nightmarish. In one of them I found out I had cancer…and I looked over to Vince…and of course he wasn’t there.”

  “That’s awful, I’m so sorry. Were the other dreams happy ones, at least?”

  Angela shrugged. “In my head, I guess. While I was—dreaming them. A lot of them involved babies.” She left it at that, still glad that she’d told her mother about her and Vince’s failed plans to conceive, but not wanting to open up that wound again. “What’s the purpose behind those dreams? It’s like…I get it, it eats me up inside thinking of having his baby…there’s no need to keep reminding me that I never had a chance at that future with him, and then adding Vince in there next to me in my dreams just to tease me. Enough is enough.”

  “Have you tried…not eating anything funny before bed?” Sophie suggested, her voice indicating that she had nothing in her arsenal powerful enough to assuage the pain Angela had just described. “I dream a lot more if I eat ice cream and spicy foods too late at night.”

  “I don’t think that’s my problem. I still hardly eat. I can’t stomach anything. I’m just not hungry,” Angela said dully. “In any case, Charlie slept on the couch with me last night and I didn’t dream at all. I slept like a rock, and did again when we napped together today. The reasons seem obvious enough. I just don’t know if it’s going to stick once he goes back to his aunt’s house and I have to sleep alone again, you know?”

  “Kids aren’t the only ones who need grief counselors,” Sophie said timidly. “Maybe if it’s been a while and things aren’t getting better, you could talk to someone.”

  “I hope it doesn’t come to that.” Angela thought of keeping watch over Vince at night, crying quietly in the recliner so as not to wake him. “I’m so glad that he’s—he’s not suffering anymore. I know he’s in a better place. I believe that with all my heart, you know?” Angela said. “But this selfish part of me still wasn’t ready to let go. Even when he could hardly talk anymore and it was obvious that he was as ready as he would ever be…I guess when I talked to him for the last time, I wasn’t fully convinced it would be the last time. But I fell asleep, so I guess I had to have known. Anyway, I know he was miserable here, but I want—I want him back. I wasn’t ready.”

  “Maybe you never would’ve been ready,” Sophie said stuffily. “You were in a different place than Vince. He was in pain and knew it was hurting the people he loved, too, so he was a little more prepared to say goodbye.”

  “But I don’t know how to function without him.”
br />   “That’s not true,” Sophie said. “If that were true, you would’ve been lying in bed when we got here this morning. But you were up, showered, you’d gone to church, you were taking good care of Charlie, doing whatever it took to make him feel better. Angela, listen to me. You are so strong.” Sophie’s makeup was all over her face and the pillowcase. “I know you might not feel like it right now, but trust me, you are. I have no idea how you’re doing it, but you’re far exceeding anyone’s expectations, okay? And things are going to get better, and you’re gonna—you’re gonna get to a point where you’ll be able to think of Vince without getting distraught. Your mind will automatically go to your favorite memories. Like your vacation. You guys had such a nice time. And getting married without any of us even knowing you were dating. I mean, hello, epic romance novel,” she raved through her tears. “You had such an incredible relationship and no one can ever take that away from you. No matter how hard this gets, you’ll always have that to hold on to.”

  “Yeah.” Angela was grateful for being able to let go around someone else. She hadn’t thought it would happen so soon. “You’re right.”

  Sophie didn’t leave until after midnight, when Angela looked like she was about to fall asleep. “I can’t pass out in here, I have to sleep with Charlie,” she said, yawning as she rose to see her friend out. “Thank you so much for coming, and for putting up with me,” she said tiredly, giving Sophie a lingering hug. “I love you.”

  “And I love you,” Sophie said with a kiss on the cheek. “The guys will be over in the afternoon. I’ll leave you alone till at least Tuesday, though, unless you change your mind. I’m sure if Charlie goes back to Jenna’s you’ll want some time to yourself, right?”

  As nice as it had been to be comforted by another’s words and embrace, Angela nodded. She needed more quiet time. She didn’t know exactly how this would play out, as Saturday had been such a whopping failure in that respect, but she knew she was getting nowhere fast without some time alone. “I’ll give you a call on Tuesday. Thanks for the food, and the flowers, everything. I feel like I should be cooking for you, too.”

  “Absolutely not,” Sophie said, raising a commanding hand. “Family doesn’t cook. And given how many people Vince considered to be part of his family, we have to draw the line somewhere. We’re the weird extended family members people don’t know very well, the ones you don’t know are your fifth cousins until you win the lottery. We get to cook the casseroles. You, missy, just need to work on eating them. Please. Eat.”

  “What? It’s kind of nice not to have the pooch under my jeans anymore.”

  Sophie glared at her. “I mean it.”

  Angela promised to make an effort. Before she went back to bed, she disregarded the hour and called her parents to update them on the happenings of the day and to explain why she hadn’t been able to talk to them until now. Her mother seemed confident that things would start looking up soon and promised to show up with more food, coffee, and tea the following evening. Angela’s father didn’t say much of anything, which she knew meant that he was heartbroken for her and didn’t want her to know just how much.

  She finally slid back into bed with Charlie; he woke up only because there wasn’t enough room in the bed for her to do so without touching him. He attached himself to her. “You left,” he said, crushed.

  “Not for long. I’m back.”

  “Don’t leave again, okay?” he said.

  Angela pulled Charlie close and rested her lips in his hair. “I’m not going anywhere else tonight, I promise. Can I get a kiss?”

  Charlie obliged, then burrowed into her chest, his fists clutching her waist. It seemed as if he was testing her for a few minutes, but eventually, he let go with one hand and stuck his thumb in his mouth, drifting off peacefully.