Would You Like Another

A newly poured glass of wine in one hand, the other resting on the table. Your elbows propping yourself up as you sit, waiting. Dressed in red, your hair styled with elegance, your makeup done to give your smile a glow. The twilight of the night grasping at the hands of time as the setting begins to weigh on you. All around you are people enjoying their night out. The family beside you are out with their daughter, celebrating her graduation from college. The group of seven businessmen in the far corner are taking shots after closing a major deal with a competing company. A few tables in front of you sits an older couple. A night out together, they are enjoying each other’s company. They look so happy.

Looking around yourself, you see smiles, laughter, inclusion, love. Looking down at yourself, you see nothing. No one to hold. No one to listen to, to see, to be with. You close your eyes. You are alone.

Looking at the items on the shelf, you stare at your list. Many of the items are you thought would be easy to find are nowhere in sight. You have the candles, the matches, the cake mix, even the eggs. Yet you have been unable to find wrapping paper, streamers, balloons, and even a nice card with which to express how much you care for her. You are beginning to freak out. Frantically, you begin going from aisle to aisle, hoping that you may have just missed something from the first time you were there.

Noticing your impending meltdown, you hear, “Are you having some trouble finding a few things?"

Turning around, you see him. Placing his one item back on the shelf as you tell him, “Yes, I’m planning a last-minute birthday party for my mom, and I can’t find some of the items on my list.” You hand him your list as he looks it over. Smiling to himself, he tells you that he knows what can be substituted for what you do not have.

“My little brother’s birthday was just this last month, and I wrapped his gift in aluminum foil, which he thought was pretty funny as well, haha”, he says as he hands you a roll. “You won’t need any tape either!”

“As for the streamers and balloons, maybe you could place out different types of candles?” he asks.

“She does love the smell of lavender and the ocean. Are there any candles that we can find that smell like that?” you ask excitedly.

“I’m sure we can find some!” he says.

“As for the card, you don’t need something with a fancy design or a pre-printed verse. I’m sure there are plenty of wonderful things you can say from your heart to your mom for her birthday. Just put it into writing, and she’ll have it forever”, he says with a smile.

In response to his lovely thought, you tell him that your mom is not doing too good, and she may have only a few more years left before she passes.

Seeing your face turn from delight to sadness, he tells you, “I’m sorry to hear that. Her birthday is here though, and I’m sure she’s more than excited to be spending it with her lovely and caring daughter! We’ll make sure of it!”

Gazing up, and out into the night sky, the stars are as bright as ever, and the moon shows only a sliver of itself as the wind begins to rustle the leaves of the trees above you. The cold night air nipping at your fingertips, as you bring them closer to the fire. The light from it illuminating your surroundings. The sound of laughter reverberating around the backdrop of the social gathering you and he are a part of. The volume of the music low enough to give the setting a calm ambiance. Sitting on his lap, an arm around the back of his neck, and the other placed on his chest. Holding a beer, you hear him talking with a friend of his. The night is simple. A small group of six or seven close friends, all huddled together around the warmth of the small bonfire, enjoying everyone’s company. Looking up to see his eyes, his face is painted orange from the display of fire in the foreground. As it crackles and creaks, you feel safe, comfortable, and warm.

Rustled awake from the abrupt clatter of pebbles hitting steel, you open your eyes to the sight of him in the driver’s seat. Focused on the road, his hand on your leg, as you smile and move forward to see the road ahead. The radio playing to the tune of your window rolling down. The wind rushing through your hair and the feeling of the warm and wet air moisturizing your face. The smell of the lake enveloping your nose, as the sun peeks through the canopy of trees. The trail of dirt and dust seen in the review mirror. You briefly lock eyes with him, as he holds your hand and places it against his lips.

“I Love You”, you hear him say, as his lips return your hand to his.

The speed of the car coming to a slow stop at the shore of the lake. The bobblehead placed on the dash finally able to breathe as the shaking and rattling ends. Looking out at the water, the many boats and small islands overlooked by the massive mountains covered in snow in the background, you can see out of the corner of your eye, he looks at you as he says, “so beautiful...”

The sound is reverberating in your ears. Your blood is boiling. The adrenaline is running through your body as your voice begins to crack. From across the room, you begin to lose focus as your anger sets in on its intended target. Protecting himself from your sharp jabs, his back aflame with cuts of varying depths and sizes. Grabbing whatever is around, and letting it fly towards him. Screaming at him, as you begin to clatter pots and pans into the sink. Dinner made and ready on the table, sitting on the sidelines waiting for the moment to subside, if it ever does. Many minutes of heated one-sided arguing eventually turning into a period of calm, as he grabs his keys and walks out the front door, giving you time to cool down.

A fight from a frivolous matter explained and cried to your closest friend on the phone. The night’s dinner still set at the table as you grab a tub of ice cream and cuddle up alone on the couch with the TV on. Eventually falling asleep, he walks through the door. His keys clattering on the kitchen table. Looking around, he sees you on the couch. Turning off the TV, grabbing your ice cream, which is most certainly melted into a soup, he puts what needs to be done, away. As peaceful as you may seem to be laying on the couch, he nevertheless picks you up, making sure to keep the blanket on you. For a moment, you open your eyes, seeing his face and feeling the motion of his body as he begins to bring you to the bedroom.

You begin to mumble, “I’m sorry”, before quickly falling back asleep.

All he does is smile, as he kisses your forehead and tucks you snuggly in bed. Kneeling beside you, he whispers in your ear, “It’s all ok. Don’t worry about anything. I Love You. I’ll be in bed shortly.”

At your parent’s house, everyone shows a happy face, a bright smile, and a constant glow of happiness. This may be your mom’s last family get-together. The sun is out, the clouds are few and far between. Outside, you can see him with your father grilling burgers, kebabs, and brats. Their conversation carrying weight, as they joke and laugh together. Inside, you are talking with your sisters about their most recent engagement and spending as much time as you can get with their new babies. The music in the background giving you just enough of a distraction to glance out the window to see him running around with your cousins, shooting water guns at each other. Just this small act is enough to make you stop in your tracks and smile.

Everything today seems so perfect. You mom comes into the kitchen just as he comes in from outside. Seeing each other, he can see she is struggling to grab a cup from the cabinet, and he insists on getting it for her. Helping her through the process of making a glass of iced tea, they both smile and hug each other. Your mom patting and rubbing his back, to finally grabbing his neck and kissing his forehead. As thick as thieves, the bond they share is more than just friends, but of mother and son.

The pitter patter of rain hitting the ground. A small breeze giving a somewhat calm day, meaning. The glistening of whatever rays of sun that can make their way out of the clouds above, hitting the shine of the wood. The smell of lavender held in the hands of those around. The ocean breeze felt and smelt by yourself. Focused on the feeling of being held close. The echoing of the eulogy drowned out by the deafening sound of loss.

Remembered as a kind, loving, and caring woman; your mom’s warmth was felt by many. She gave everything towards raising you and your sisters and made sure that whatever life threw at all of you, that you would each have the tools available to make it through. Hidden from those near you, looking up at him you can see in his eyes, that he has lost a world he felt very much at home with. Looking down into your eyes, your hands in his, he kisses your forehead and squeezes your hands before heading over to the casket. His hand placed on the furnished wood, you can faintly hear him talk, before he looks at you and grins.

Remembering his smell. His touch. The sound of his voice. The many ways he told you that he loves you. His laughter, followed by the glow of his smile. Remembering how he tucks you in at night. How he always kissed your forehead and held your hand. The warmth of being near and with him.

Broken apart by bright lights. Sirens echoing in the distance. The feeling of being trapped in a tunnel. Pieces of metal, plastic and glass strewn out across the ground. The yellow caution tape surrounding a single tree, keeping people back from the vehicle wrapped around it. The shock setting in. The strong beating of your heart felt in your throat. An officer asks you to come with him.

A white room placed in front of you. A familiar face wide-eyed and locked with yours. Placed beside him, your hand finds his. His breathing faint, his heart shallow. Holding back tears, trying so hard to give him the life your heart so desperately wants to give, he manages to show you his smile.

Slowly, he says to you, “I Love You so much", just as the dam breaks and the tears begin to roll down your face.

The sound of silence interrupted by the collective noise of the other patrons around you. Your glass empty, you hear the waiter ask, “Would you like another glass of Merlot, ma’am?” By which you reply with, “Yes, please, thank you."

The aroma of the wine reminds you of him. A simple smell bringing back years of memories, of moments. The warm feeling, the safety and simple yet elegant and fun demeanor he showed and shared with you. You miss him dearly. You love him, still.

“Marie?”, you hear beside you as you reminisce. “Sorry I’m late. There was an accident on the way over here. I’m John.”