“No! It smells fine.” He smelled it to make sure. “You just have to get used to it, is all.”
“Yeah, okay,” I said. I turned out the light. He fell asleep within minutes, and I lay there feeling like the luckiest girl in the world that this weirdo next to me was mine; that he lived here; that he had the right to demand his stinky pillow stay in my bed. I smelled it once more as I fell asleep, and I couldn’t imagine ever getting used to it, but before long, that was exactly what I had done.
SEPTEMBER
The boxes are mostly packed. Ben’s things are almost entirely out of sight. I can see only brown cardboard for miles. I kept his USC sweatshirt and a few of his Tshirts. I left his favorite cup in the cupboard. Susan put some books and photos in her car to take with her. She added a random notebook he’d written in and a few other things that are meaningless to anyone else but mean everything to a mom.
Now that it’s all in boxes, there isn’t much reason for Susan to stay here.
“Well,” she says with a sigh. “I guess that’s the last of it.”
“I guess so,” I say. I feel surprisingly stable.
“All right,” she says, nodding. It’s the kind of nod that says she doesn’t know what to say next; she doesn’t know what she’s thinking. She gasps for air.
“I guess I’ll . . . head home,” she says. “It’s, uh, this is hard. I don’t want to leave but I . . . I mean, it’s not like I’m leaving him, you know? I think it’s more just . . . I had this to look forward to, if that makes any sense? I’m not making any sense. I’m going to go.”
I hug her. “It makes all the sense in the world to me.”
“Okay,” she says. She breathes out. She breathes with focus. She gathers herself. “Okay, I’ll give you a call next weekend.”
“Sounds great.”
She opens the door and walks out. I turn to see my apartment.
His things are in boxes, but I do not feel that I have lost him. It’s a subtle feeling, but it’s real. I am now just a little bit ready to realize the beauty of progress, of moving on. I decide to seize the moment. I grab three boxes of clothes and load them in the car. When I’m done with those, I grab two more. I don’t go back in for more because I’m afraid I’ll lose my nerve. I tell myself this is for the best. This is good!
I pull up in front of Goodwill and park my car. I take the boxes out and walk inside. A large man comes to greet me.
“What do we have here?”
“Some men’s clothes,” I say. I can’t look at him. I’m staring at the boxes. “All good condition.”
“Wonderful!” he says, as he takes the boxes from me. “Would you like a receipt?”
“No,” I say. “No, thank you.”
He opens the boxes and dumps their contents into a bigger pile of clothes, and even though I know that it’s time for me to walk away, I can’t help but stare. They are no longer Ben’s clothes. They are just clothes in a pile of clothes mixed with other clothes.
What have I done?
Like that, they are gone. The man has taken the large pile and shoved it into the back room. I want those clothes back. Why did I give someone else Ben’s clothes? What will he wear? I want to jump over the counter and sort through what they have back there. I need to get his clothes back. Instead, I am frozen and in shock over what I have done. How did I do that? Why did I do that? Can Ben see, from where he is, what I have done?
“Ma’am?” the man calls out to me. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
I turn around and get in my car. I can’t turn the key in the ignition. I can’t shift the car in drive. I just bang my head against the steering wheel. I let the tears fall down on the beige interior. My cheek is blaring the horn and I don’t care.