“Elsie Ross.”
That’s when she breaks. She breaks just like I have. Soon, she’s on the floor. There are no more tissues in sight to save the linoleum from her tears.
Ana is sitting next to me holding my hand. I am sitting next to Ben’s side, sobbing. Susan excused herself some time ago. The man in the red tie comes in and says we need to clear some things up and Ben’s body needs to be moved. I just stare ahead, I don’t even focus on what’s happening, until the man in the red tie hands me a bag of Ben’s things. His cell phone is there, his wallet, his keys.
“What is this?” I ask, even though I know what it is.
Before the man in the red tie can answer me, Susan appears in the doorway. Her face is strained; her eyes are bloodshot. She looks older than she did when she left. She looks exhausted. Do I look like that? I bet I look like that.
“What are you doing?” Susan asks the man.
“I’m . . . We need to clear the room. Your son’s body is going to be transferred.”
“Why are you giving that to her?” Susan says, more directly. She says it like I’m not even here.
“I’m sorry?”
Susan steps further into the room and takes the bag of Ben’s stuff from in front of me. “All decisions about Ben, all his belongings, should be directed to me,” she says.
“Ma’am,” the man in the red tie says.
“All of it,” she says.
Ana stands up and grabs me to go with her. She intends to remove me from this situation, and while I don’t want to be here right now, I can’t just be removed. I pull my arm out of Ana’s hand and I look at Susan.
“Should we discuss what the next steps are?” I say to her.
“What is there to discuss?” Susan says. She is cold and controlled.
“I just mean . . . ” I don’t actually know what I mean.
“Mrs. Ross,” the man in the red tie says.
“Yes?” Both Susan and I answer at the same time.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “Which one did you mean?”
“The elder,” he says, looking at Susan. I’m sure that he meant it as a sign of respect, but it’s torn right through her. Susan doesn’t want to be one of two Mrs. Rosses, that much is clear, but I bet she resents even more being the elder one.
“I’m not going to give this any more credence,” she says to everyone in the room. “She has absolutely no proof that my son even knew her, let alone married her. I’ve never heard of her! My own son. I saw him last month. He never mentioned a damn thing. So no, I’m not having my son’s possessions sent home with a stranger. I won’t have it.”
Ana reaches toward Susan. “Maybe it’s time for us all to take a step back,” she says.
Susan turns her head, as if noticing Ana for the first time. “Who are you?” she asks. She asks it like we are clowns coming out of a Volkswagen. She asks it as if she’s exhausted by all the people that keep appearing.
“I’m a friend,” Ana says. “And I don’t think any of us are in a position to behave rationally, so maybe we can just breathe—”
Susan turns toward the man in the red tie, her body language interrupting Ana midsentence. “You and I need to discuss this in private,” she barks at him.
“Ma’am, please calm down.”
“Calm down? You’re joking!”
“Susan—” I start to say. I don’t know how I planned on finishing, but Susan doesn’t give a shit.
“Stop,” she says, putting her hand up in my face. It’s aggressive and instinctual, as if she needs to protect her face from my words.
“Ma’am, Elsie was escorted in by the police. She was at the scene. I have no reason to doubt that she and your son were as she says . . . ”
“Married?” Susan is incredulous.
“Yes,” the man in the red tie says.
“Call the county! I want to see a record of it!”