10 Days in a Decade
Day 1: 12/31/2010 10:50 PM
I was headed to an end of year celebration. It was hosted by a friend of a friend of mine. Well, technically, I was dragging my feet. New Year’s was overrated. I even formed the “I Hate the 31st Society” and have become the “Chief 31st Hater”.
But there was a problem with my protest.
The protest usually resulted in a lonely evening followed by an early dinner. While I despised the quintessential nature of the celebration, the overall idea of being alone was sad enough to reconsider my loyalty to the whole ideology.
My conscious efforts to escape such events were futile, and instead, I’d find myself standing in a corner of some New Year celebration holding a drink while taking pride in silently mocking people as they did their usual countdowns.
This year, as always, I had two options. Eat an early dinner alone and call it a night or attend a celebration and despise it firsthand. Eating alone certainly appeared less exciting as compared to mocking people. So, I decided to take the opportunity and stop by.
The celebration was at one of those new townhouses located on the outskirts of the community as a part of the town’s extension. It was a fair way from the campus where I lived. I had no luck finding it whatsoever. It was a jumbly maze with every townhouse looking pretty much the damn same. Which also reminded me about the GPS I was supposed to pick up before leaving that was resting on the couch back in my apartment. Most of the houses were not even occupied and the ones that were held their own version of a New Year celebration.
The last thing I wanted to do was crash the wrong party. Well, on second thought, it wouldn’t have made much difference.
After almost an hour of aimless driving, I decided to look for an exit. Not having any kind of navigation assistance had brought me almost to the end of the subdivision and I had no idea where I was. I decided to turn back and try to trace the same path backward.
As I began a U-turn, a townhouse at the end of the street caught my notice. The lights were on but no rumble of people, no decorations and no loud party music; just a soft melody.
It was nice. I wished for the possibility that this townhouse with the low key atmosphere might’ve been the one I was meant to attend.
But I was certain it wasn’t.
I decided to drive to the end of the street and check out who lived there. I had to know who this person was. Who else respected this day of the year just as much as I did (by also not caring about it)?
It wasn’t just mere curiosity. It was the familiar melody of the song. And my obsession to confirm it made it all the more compelling to just go for a quick spin and turn back. As I drove towards the house, the increasing sound made my guess clearer, note after note. As soon as I heard the first words, I declared that I had successfully deciphered the melody.
It was “Strangers in the Night” by Frank Sinatra. Bingo! I couldn’t leave now. I was feeling as exuberant as the people in the other townhouses celebrating, but unlike them, at least I had accomplished something. I deserved to celebrate. So, I stayed and listened to the entire song. I turned off the ignition and rolled down all four windows to better hear the lyrics. The stinging breeze couldn’t even bother me.
The melody concluded, and a voice came through the upstairs window, “Can I help you? Are you lost?” It was a young woman with a strong British accent.
Based on my earlier disposition, the answer to that question was supposed to be a yes, but dear Frank Sinatra made me tell the truth.
“Yes, I’m lost … but glad to be. Couldn’t help but listen to the song. Good choice!” I answered, then drove away before she could respond.
But I had plans to return, and it was all thanks to Frank Sinatra.
I ended up driving well past midnight and started to become familiar with this part of town. As I drove I kept thinking. The song, her voice afterwards.
It was all so fitting, but at the same time so out of the blue. I failed to find the place I was meant to go, but I may have just found the place I was destined to be.
Day 2: 01.01.2011 09:00AM
Unlike my usual indifference towards the first day of the year, this time I was awake and ready. Ready to go back to Stafford Street and introduce myself. I dreaded the challenge in finding the townhouse again.
From the moment I stepped out of my apartment and into my car, I found myself facing a mountain of speculative thoughts.
What if I fail to find the place?
What if she was just there visiting for the night?
What if she’s already committed to someone?
These questions were just scratching the surface of a dilemma I had created at the cost of last night’s sleep. A mountain I had to climb over to see what existed on the other side.
My dread was unnecessary. I drove into the subdivision and some of my memory from last night’s drive returned; distinct landmarks and characteristics now somewhat familiar — an orange mailbox here, rosebush garden there, scary-looking dog jumping at its fence.
My awakened curiosity needed validation. I had to know her. I had to see the face behind that thick British accent.
I saw the sign of Stafford Street approaching. I slowly drove towards the townhouse as I dreaded the transition from fantasy to reality.
I rolled down the windows. “All or Nothing at All” was playing on my stereo. I was hoping someone would come to the window and question my choice of music. But there appeared to be no one in the house. I hadn’t thought about that possibility.
I couldn’t leave. I decided to wait. I played Frank Sinatra over and over again.
Sometime later, a van pulled in. A young woman in a hospital gown was assisted out. I sat there frozen looking at her petite figure from a distance. She walked with an IV pole in one hand as she moved her other hand through her short reddish-brown hair.
“I think I can manage from here,” I heard her instructing the transport person.
I got out of my car to help anyway. I didn’t even turn off the ignition, the car stereo still on.
“Can I give you a hand to the front porch, Miss?” I asked.
“I think I can manage,” she replied as she continued to walk.
“Trust me, I’m good at it,” I replied with a smile.
I saw her pause and tilt her head in my direction. I took that as a yes and rushed towards her. I held her hand and walked her to the door. I opened it for her before turning to leave. My curiosity was growing — I had so many questions. It had just been a few hours since I’d heard her through the upstairs window.
What must have happened between then and now?
I’d reached my car, ready to leave when she called back, “Couldn’t help but listen to the song. Good choice!”
I didn’t realize it until then, but I’d been waiting to hear her speak again. I couldn’t leave after hearing that. “Let me help you upstairs,” I said, holding out my hand.
Great start to the New Year.
Day 3: 09.10.2012 10:36AM
It was Emily’s birthday and I was flustered.
I’d ordered a cake for her from this special bakery uptown but they’d stopped answering my calls. Probably because I’d called them a tad more than was normal. It had to be perfect and safe for Emily to eat without getting sick. It meant no nuts, no dairy, no artificial colors, no nutmeg, and most of all, little to no sugar.
Emily couldn’t handle any of it. There were few things she could handle apart from her medication. It had been years since she’d had birthday cake and I felt guilty about being able to do so. I wanted her to experience all of life’s luxuries that I took for granted. Even if it meant celebrating New Year’s, I was ready to resign as Chief 31st Hater and dissolve the society.
Emily had challenged that I wouldn’t find a cake she could eat. I was happy to take her on. I did everything I could to make it safe for her. Like pestering her doctor with a million questions.
The bakery finally called to tell me the cake was ready for pickup. Excitement bubbled over as I was changing her IV. I’d gotten so good at it that we didn’t need the caregiver to come in for days.
“Your cake’s ready. You are going to love it!” I promised her as I headed out. We hadn’t finished our conversation so I called her from my car.
My errands usually involved me calling her, which meant Emily and I talked on the phone a lot. I dreaded not hearing her voice while I was away. Sometimes when she’d get tired from speaking, she’d just hum in agreement.
The cake had turned out perfectly and the celebration was flawless. Just the two of us. Of course I won the challenge when she acknowledged that it was the best cake she’d ever had.
Day 4: 01.20.2013 04:00AM
It was an odd time to get a call. It was Emily’s caregiver on the line. I was in Philadelphia visiting family for a few days. It was my first time away from Emily since we’d moved in together. Despite my reluctance to go she had forced me into it. I’d forgotten about any pre-existing relations that existed before she’d come into my life, or rather, me into hers. But this visit was something I couldn’t avoid.
“What is it?” I asked.
“It’s time,” I heard from the other side.
“No! That can’t be! Tell her to just hang in there, I’m coming home!” I kept telling myself it couldn’t be true.
“She doesn’t want to create any trouble. She just wanted to say goodbye one last time. I’m going to put her on now.”
“Wait! No! What do you mean she doesn’t want to create any trouble? I’m not saying goodbye to anyone today and I’m pretty clear that — ” I heard the monitor flatline from the other side.
I rushed to the airport. I had to see her. That’s all I could think about.
I woke up with a face full of sweat and a pounding heart as if I’d run a marathon. But instead, found myself in my bed. It was just a dream. It was just a dream, I repeated until my heart slowed down again.
I sat there, pondering in the dark. Everything around me was still as if the world had come to a halt. I checked my phone again. There were no calls from Emily.
Later, I was on a flight back home. It took forever for the plane to take off and every passing minute was longer than the one before. My longest journey to date.
“I’m not traveling without you anymore,” I declared on my return home.
“Why? Because of that silly dream you had?” Emily asked.
Avoiding her question, I asked jokingly, “Can I lie with you, my lady?”
“Permission granted!” she replied with a smile, making room.
Day 5: 05.12.2014 10:15AM
Days were dull, and the nights felt long. I wanted Emily to still experience things, like a walk, but she had become too weak.
I hardly slept throughout the entire semester. Life was wrapped around the clock and hopped between the alarms. Reminders set to take pills, change IVs, study when possible, and repeat.
But the closeness was refreshing even if it involved just being together in that room holding hands most of the time.
The semester was otherwise a blur, and somehow, I had graduated. I should’ve been awarded a minor in caregiving with the expertise I’d gained staying with Emily. I skipped all the usual proceedings after graduation. Boring stuff like lunch with the family. Instead, I rushed to Stafford Street.
Emily was in a deep sleep; it seemed the meds were kicking in. I hadn’t taken off my graduation robe yet. I wanted her to see me like that. I lay by her side, moving the machine’s wires to make some space. That was the best nap I’d had the entire semester.
When I woke up I saw Emily wearing my tasseled cap.
It felt like a true graduation.
Day 6: 05.18.2015 12:30 PM
I found myself standing in the room in front of her still body. I looked around, searching for any trace of her soul, something that I could hold onto.
I called her name to see if she would respond with her usual way of lifting her right hand, but this time she didn’t. I held her lifeless hand. It was cold. I wished she would squeeze mine back, but this time she didn’t.
I lay by her side, pressing my cheek to hers to see if she would move or press her lips to mine, but she didn’t.
That was it. I’d run out of rituals. Defeat felt in every one of them.
That was the end of the freefall. The darkness took over, a big cloud hiding the sun.
It began to rain moments later.
Day 7: 05.18.2016 12:30 PM
I was making Emily’s bed. It had become my morning ritual.
I kept her room just how it was before. Apart from all the medical stuff. All of that had now moved on to help someone else. But everything else was unchanged, including all her possessions she’d wanted me to donate. Something I had put off for a long time.
But I had to let it go. It was a promise I had to keep. I opened the closet where all her possessions were stored. The closet that I dreaded opening. The closet that now represented her prior life. Things that held her touch all over. The very touch I craved, yet avoided at the same time.
I entered, closed the door behind me, and sat there in the dark. I could sense Emily’s presence all around me. It felt like being close to her again. It felt like she was right there. After a while, I started to sort through the pile of those memories. Something impossible to give up and extremely difficult to separate from.
I found a letter in an envelope. It was from Emily, addressed to me. I was flabbergasted. The letter contained an address, and on the back of the envelope she’d written: I would rather have you remember me by this place than where we met. I was happiest here.
Sheffield, England.
Day 8: 05.25.2016 09:00AM
I was at the airport on my way to London. I had to go to Sheffield to find out more about Emily.
I had the letter and a map of Sheffield with me. I was looking forward to experiencing the Emily that she wanted me to experience.
I reached the house on the address. It was empty. I asked around for help, but no one knew who Emily was. One stranger knew there was a family who’d lived there with their redheaded daughter but they sold it off and moved. With the help of some neighbors, I managed to find the current owner of the house. By chance he had no current occupant living there, so I decided to move in. I found the perfect closet to store all of Emily’s non-donated possessions. I also found a space in the corner for my stuff. It had a window facing the front, opening up to an endless valley of trees.
It was a view Emily would have liked. I could picture her standing there, looking out at the world through this window.
Day 9: 08.19.2018 08:00PM
Every day I opened the letter and re-read every word carefully. Wishfully hoping there was a hidden message Emily wanted to convey. Something that my inept brain may not have picked up on all these years.
When I was done reading a first time, I’d read it again from the beginning. It didn’t matter how minor the detail was. I memorized it word for word.
And not just the words.
I knew the empty spaces between them too. It reminded me of all those times I spent away from her while she was there in her townhouse. It was sad to think about, but at the same time, I was thankful that it was those moments that had brought me to Sheffield.
I’d gotten used to living there. The place felt nicer than when I’d first arrived. It had a pleasant Emily feel; more than Stafford Street. It portrayed healthy, happy Emily, and I like it that way even though she’s not with me.
Day 10: 12.31.2019 10:50PM
I flew in just for this. I had to be there where it had all begun.
It was the time of year I was least fond of.
I pulled onto Stafford Street. The street I’d once accidentally found.
I parked the car right in front of the townhouse. The surrounding townhouses, once empty, now had a lot of life in them. There was a party going on next door, a gathering of people on the front porch.
I turned off the ignition and put Frank Sinatra on my phone.
I got out of the car and looked at the upstairs window. The same window from ten years ago. There was a light on.
I yearned to be asked, “Can I help you?” in a thick British accent.
I sat there and listened to the song over and over.
Suddenly the countdown began, followed by cheering, and fireworks coming from all around with people wishing each other a Happy New Year!
I started the car and drove to my hotel. I had a morning flight back to London. I was looking forward to going back to Sheffield.
Going back to a happy Emily.
The decade had ended, but life was lived.
I had come full circle — but this time I didn’t feel so alone.
