“Sure,” I say.
“Okay.” She doesn’t say it, but I get the feeling there is a small part of her that is happy to see me go. I have drained her. If I ever stop feeling sorry for myself, it will be time to start feeling sorry for what I’ve been putting Ana through. I’m not there yet, but I know it’s coming. “I like Kevin,” I say.
“Okay,” she says, not believing me.
“No, really. I was just thrown for a loop is all. I really like him.”
“Well, thank you,” she says diplomatically. Eventually, I leave and get in my car full of clean clothes and toiletries. I put the address into my phone, pull out of my parking space, and head south.
I ring the doorbell with my bag on my shoulder. I feel like I’m here for a sleepover. Somehow, the house looks so much more inviting this time. It looks less like it will eat me alive when I step into it.
Susan comes to the door with her arms open wide for a hug. She looks genuinely thrilled to see me, which is nice, because I feel like for the past few weeks I simply have not been someone people would be thrilled to see.
“Hi!” she says.
“Hi,” I say, a bit more timidly.
“I have a whole evening planned for us,” she says before I’ve even crossed the threshold. “Chinese food, in-home massages, Steel Magnolias.”
I look at her when I hear “Steel Magnolias.”
She smiles sheepishly. “I never had a girl to watch it with!”
I laugh and put my things down. “That actually sounds great.”
“I’ll show you to your room,” she says.
“Geez, I feel like I’m at a hotel,” I say.
“I decorate when I can’t face the day. Which seems to be most days now.” The heaviness of her admission startles me. It’s always been about me when we talk. I almost don’t know what to say to a woman that has lost both her husband and her son.
“Well, I’m here now,” I say, brightly. “I can . . . ” What? What can I possibly do?
She smiles at me but I can tell her smile can become a frown at any minute. Somehow, it doesn’t. She U-turns back to happier thoughts. “Let me show you the guest room!”
“The guest room?” I ask.
She turns to me. “You didn’t think I was going to let you sleep in Ben’s room, did you?”
“Kind of, I did.”
“I’ve spent far too much time in there, these past couple of weeks, and let me tell you: It only makes it sadder.” She doesn’t let the emotion deter the moment again. She’s dead set on moving through this. She leads me to a gorgeous white room with a white bedspread and white pillows. There are white calla lilies on the desk and Godiva chocolates on the nightstand. I’m not sure if the candles are new, but they haven’t been used before. It smells like cotton and soap in here. It smells so good. The whole thing is stunning, really.
“Too much white? I’m sorry. I might be overeager to use the guest room finally.”
I laugh. “This is gorgeous, thank you.” There is a robe on the bed. She sees me notice it.
“For you, if you want it. I want you to feel pampered here. Comfortable.”
“It’s great,” I say. She’s thought of everything. I look behind her to the bathroom and can see Ben’s soap message to her.
She sees me looking at that as well. “I couldn’t bring myself to wash it away when he was here, I know I won’t ever wash it away now.”