“I’m sorry, Charlie bear.”
Pressing my flat palms against the tile, I tilted my head forward, letting the spray cascade down my back.
“How dare you?” I sobbed. “I… miss you.”
I stood there until the water went cold and my skin pruned. Stepping from the shower, I towelled off in the mirror and winced.
I looked hollowed out to my core.
The bags under my eyes were dark and my eyelids puffy. My nose was raw from tissues.
Today would be a hard day.
I brushed my hair, leaving it wet, and crawled back into bed. Tucking my knees into my chest, I wrapped my arms around myself and waited. I waited, but sleep never came. I just lay there for hours, staring at the ceiling, missing him. Eventually, my alarm went off at six o’clock and I knew it was time to get ready.
Every year, on this day, I drove out to my parents’ house first thing in the morning.
They didn’t want me to be alone.
I wanted to see him.
With everything I had, I pulled my body from the bed and back into the bathroom. My hair was a disaster. I pulled it into a high ponytail, but left my face free of makeup.
Even if I wore any, the tears would wash it off. The effort would be futile.
I pulled a violet-coloured sweater over my head and shrugged on a pair of faded blue jeans with so many rips they probably should be in the trash. Padding to the kitchen, I filled a glass with water and knocked back two Tylenol.
No sleep and a week of crying would do that to a person.
It took me awhile, but eventually I found a pair of clean socks and stuffed my feet into a pair of tan Ugg boots, the kind with the buttons on the side.
They were warm and comfortable.
I needed to be comfortable today.
It was spring, but it was also Canada. So, I grabbed my windbreaker from my closet and put it on. My purse was hanging on the back of a chair around the breakfast bar, and I slung it over my shoulder and checked the time on my microwave.
6:30 in the morning.
I was ahead of schedule.
Walking to the front door, I slid the deadbolt and grabbed the keys from the tray.
The door seemed heavier than normal, or maybe I was just weaker from sleep deprivation. Regardless, I turned the handle and pulled.
“Oh, uhh,” he tripped over his words.
I looked down to see him placing an arrangement of lilies on my doorstep.
“Dean?”
He lifted his head.
“I thought you’d still be sleeping.” He picked the flowers back up and stood. “I just wanted to drop these off, because, well…” His voice dropped off.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “Thanks.”
His eyes narrowed and he tipped my chin up to look at him. “Charlie…” His voice was full of concern.
“I know.” I closed my eyes.
I knew what he saw. I’d seen it too. I looked bad.
I was grieving and it showed.
“I’m sorry.” His thumb moved along my jawline and my lip trembled.
“Yeah,” I whispered again, but this time, a tear fell down my cheek.
He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and pulled me into a hug, the bouquet in his hands draping down my back.
It was too much. The comfort was too much. I was only keeping it together in the way sad people do if you don’t touch them. As soon as you touched them, they lost resolve.
I lost resolve.
I was distraught in his arms.
Sobbing into his thermal.
I clung to him and he held me.
“Where are you going so early?” he asked, as I buried my head in his neck.
Trying to take a few deep breaths, I failed. So I tried again until I could speak.
“M-y-y p…parents,” I stuttered.
He let me go with one arm, and used the other to take the keys from my hands and lock the door.
“I’ll drive you,” he said, transferring the flowers to his other hand.
My face lifted from his shoulder and I shook my head. “You d-d-on’t ha-a-ve to do that.”
“You can’t drive like this.” He tucked me into his side and started to move us to the elevator. “Alycia is at a sleepover,” he answered before I could ask, so I just nodded.
We rode the elevator in silence as I did the best I could to compose myself to little success, eventually stepping out into the lobby.
Something hit me.
“Wait.” I paused. “How did you get in?”
Construction had been completed on the building in early March. He technically didn’t work here anymore.
Dean smiled. “Dave was here when I got here.”
“Oh.” I nodded.
Dave and his wife liked to work on the gardens out front went the weather was nice.
We passed them on our way out to the street. I gave a half-hearted wave before Dean excused us. I leaned into him as we passed my SUV on the street and he stopped in front of a silver pickup truck. I thought it was a Toyota maybe, but I wasn’t sure.
He opened the door and made sure I was comfortable, reaching across me to buckle my seatbelt.
“Can you hold these?” he asked, and lifted the lilies up into my line of vision.
Reaching for them, I stuck my nose in the yellow and smelled.
They smelled good.