I still have all your pictures on my phone. I won’t be deleting them any time soon. Probably never.
I have my favorites. I know, I know I told you this. But I have news. I printed a couple of them. Framed them up real nice. One is them is from last summer at the lake, in the boat. I love how you pulled your sunglasses down just enough so the camera could see your eyes. I always loved your eyes. I know. I’ve told you that too.
The other is the selfie I took of us in the back of the limo on our wedding day. You look so very happy in that one. And so beautiful in your dress. I still cry over that one if I look at it too long. Yeah, I thought the crying time was over too. Apparently not, I guess.
But pictures look back, to the past. I could’ve looked at pictures no matter what happened. What hurts so bad, still, hurts so bad is the future that’s gone now. The dreams we had together. Dreams that will never come to be.
We got the house. Just one of all those dreams we had. That house is so cold now without you in it, though. It’s cold no matter how much I turn up the thermostat. It’s cold like standing here in the snow, talking to a piece of granite like it’s my wife.
Oh, another bit of news. I bumped into one of the EMT’s that worked the crash. Yes, of course, she remembered. Everyone remembers it. Anyway, she said she saw the guy’s phone. The guy that hit you. It had a text on it that hadn’t been sent.
She told me it said, “Can’t talk now. Driv — “
So that’s what both of you died for. That stupid, could have fucking waited, text. Aah, dammit. I don’t want to cry again.
I’m sorry, hon, but I need a minute. Just gotta get myself under control here. Okay. Deep breaths. And yeah, I have tissues with me. Never carried tissues with me before, but these last couple of months, well… I just never know.
Whew. Okay. I think I got this now.
No, I still have your electric piano. I haven’t sold it. No need to worry about that dream of buying you a grand piano for you to play now, is there?
We were going to have kids. I was going to be their Little League coach. We’d take the team to Dairy Queen for ice cream when we won. And maybe sometimes when we lost too.
We also dreamed of taking our kids to Disney World. It would be hot. We’d get rained on and we wouldn’t care because it was so hot that it felt good. And I would look at you, all soaked from the rain, and even though we’d be much older then, I’d still look at you and be taken aback by how beautiful you are and I’d kiss you in the rain. You’d say, ‘Honey, what are doing, it’s pouring down rain,’ but you’d kiss me back while the kids giggled.
Friday nights would have been the best, though. Watching our son out there on the field. Probably the quarterback. No, I know, I know. Maybe he’d be in the marching band. But our daughter would be down there with her hair in a high ponytail, in her cheerleading outfit. Yes, yes, you’re right. Maybe she would have been in the marching band too.
But none of that is going to happen now. None of it.
Hm? Yes, she’s over there. She always is. No. I’m not going to go talk to her. She’s obviously here for the same reason I am. What would I say? “Hey, I see you lost someone you love too? Wanna go out?” Not happening. Besides, I’m just not ready.
Oh God, here she comes.
“Um, hello.”
Talk to her. Just say hello.
“Hi. Cold enough for you?” Stupid thing to say. Why did you say that?
“Yeah. Sure is. But they’re saying it’s supposed to warm up later in the week.”
“That’ll be good.”
“Mhm. I’m Cassie, by the way.”
Don’t just stare at her hand, dumbass. Shake it.
“I’m Stephen. How do you do.”
“Fine thanks. So, um, is this your wife here? Oh God, I’m sorry. That came out wrong.”
“No, no it’s fine. Yes, it is. She died a few months back. Car accident.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. My husband is over there. Cancer.”
“Cancer, okay. My condolences. I’ve seen you here a lot.”
“Mhm. Same here.”
“It’s tough, isn’t it?”
“Yes. It’s the dreams that I miss the most. The dreams we had together.”
“Really? I feel the exact same way. House, kids, Little League.”
“Yup. We didn’t get to see any of those dreams come true before he got sick.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, too. We got the house. That’s it.”
“Mhm.”
Okay, this is that uncomfortable pause in the conversation where if you don’t say something she’s going to say, ‘Well, it was nice to meet you,’ and walk away.
Yes, exactly. That’s what I want her to do. What? No, I’m not going to ask her if she wants to go for coffee.
“Would like to um, get a cup of coffee or something?” There I said it, happy?
“You know, I think I would.”
“Great. I know a little shop, it’s just over here.”
“Yeah. I think I know that one too.”
“Great. Shall we?”
“Love to.”
No, I don’t want to look at her. I want to keep looking back at you, I don’t care if I walk right into someone’s gravestone. Okay, okay.
“So, Cassie. Do you live here in town?” How was that?
