[ - ]
Table of Contents [Report This]
Printer Chapter or Story Microsoft Word Chapter or Story
- Text Size +
After: Favorite Memory


Ashley

The rest of the day was a blurry mess of noise and colors. I sat, catatonic, staring straight ahead. The kids were talking, Zoey and Oliver arguing like usual and Leslie was painting Presley's fingernails while Steve Perry rolled with her belly up trying to get one of them to rub her. The house had an odd quietness to it, and I found myself glancing at Nick's chair, like I expected a sound to come from it, like I expected him to wake up over there and throw his two cents into everything that was going on.

"Ma..." Oliver's hand was on my shoulder, "Ma, do you want anything to drink? Coffee? Tea?"

I shook my head.

"Can I get you anything at all?" he asked.

I shook my head again.

Presley looked up from her seat on the floor next to Leslie. "We could do your nails, mummy," she suggested, holding up the sparkly purple polish she and Leslie were painting on one another.

I shook my head.

Zoey sat down next to me. "Do you wanna talk?"

I looked at her, my baby girl, and for a moment I remembered her teeny tiny and oh-so-pink, clutched against Nick's chest as he sang the Beatles to her, dancing around her nursery. For just a moment, I could hear him, smell him, feel his presence as strongly as I could that day in the nursery. My heart about burst. What I wouldn't do to hear, smell, and feel him again right this moment. Anything. Anything in the world.

"I just... miss him so desperately," I choked the words out.

Leslie moved so she was looking up at me, and Presley pouted out her lip. Zoey took my hand, and Oliver sat down in Nick's chair, the perfect image of what Nick had looked like almost sixty years before. I felt tears creep out of my eyes, "Oh Jesus, I just can't believe he's gone," I said hoarsely. "I don't know how to cope with losing him."

"I'm sorry, mummy," Zoey whispered, and she rubbed her hand across the back of my hand and I stared down at the folds and linees of her skin, skin that was so shocking to me because I remembered when she was tiny and perfect and smooth as could be, and I remember getting lines and wrinkles like she had now, and I remembered when my lines and wrinkles were way more than lines and wrinkles and more like deep grooves and folds. Nick had told me everyday when I put on the anti-aging creame in the mirror you don't need that, you're perfect, but I'd done it anyway. Now, he wasn't here to tell me that.

I looked up at them, "I met your father seventy years ago," I said, my voice shaking. I looked down at my hands. "And I loved him for every single moment of all of those years."

Leslie rested her head against my knee.

"He was such a good man," I whispered.

"Daddy was the best," Presley said thickly.

I nodded.

Oliver shook his head, his adam's apple bobbing. "It isn't fair," he choked the words, and the three girls looked over at him. It was so rare Oliver showed emotion in front of them, he was usually so tough, but I'd seen him break down many a time they never knew about. He'd always come to me when he hurt, and I could recognize the anguish on his face. "Dad didn't even do anything," he said, he shook his head, "It's not right."

Zoey let out a trembling breath.

We were quiet in the wake of Oliver's words.

"What's your favorite memory of Daddy?" Presley asked.

We were all quiet again, formulating our answers. My heart ached. Then Leslie spoke up, "He used to tell me stories, when I had nightmares. He'd come in and chase off the closet monsters and tell me stories about a great big dog in the woods named Steve Perry that protected children from nightmares..." Leslie looked down at the black lab and smiled, reaching out and rubbing her belly.

"My favorite was that time when we took that trip to Australia and Dad fell off the boat," Oliver smirked, "Remember that, mum? You were screaming at him because he was showing off trying to do something to the sail and the wind caught the boom and it knocked him right off into the water."

Zoey cracked up, "Then he pulled mum in when she tried to get him back onto the boat."

"That was terrifying," I laughed. "I thought there were sharks in the water."

"Remember the time he got us all up in the middle of the night and drove all the way to North Carolina?" Presley said, "And Zoey got in trouble because the only bathing suit she owned was a bikini and daddy said it made her look like a hooker?"

"Remember the Dating My Daughters Is a Hazard To Your Well Being shirt?" Leslie piped up.

Oliver snorted, "I remember the time he made me follow Presley around the mall on her first date."

"What!?" Presley shrieked, "Nuh-uh!"

"Yep, he paid me thirty bucks to do it," Oliver laughed.

"What about you, mummy?" Zoey asked, turning to me, "What's your favorite memory of Daddy?" she asked.

I felt my throat swell.

"The look on his face when my father walked me down the aisle on our wedding day," I replied without hesitation.




Nick

The moment that I realized I'd died was the strangest moment I've ever had - either in this life or in the previous one.

I was on the tour bus and I was thinking about the tour dates and trying to count back concerts to figure out how long it'd been since I'd been home, and try to figure out how many dates I had left on the tour before I'd be home again. I looked through the calendar and I couldn't remember the month or the day or even the time of year it was and it left an unsettled feeling somewhere in the pit of my stomach. And then my cell phone had rung and it was a voicemail from Ashley.

"The kids and I talked for hours today about our favorite memories of you," she was saying, "They have so many... and so don't I... and it occurred to me that you and I, we did okay, didn't we, Nick? Considering we started out two kids from the wrong side of the tracks, two kids who nobody ever thought would go anywhere. And we have such beautiful children, Nick, you gave me such a wonderful family, and a wonderful marriage. I was so blessed, so lucky, to have you in my life. I could never thank you enough for everything. Seventy years of knowing you, forty-two years of being your wife, it wasn't enough. I wanted forever. I miss you so much, it breaks my heart. Good night, my love."

My mouth felt so dry after hearing those words.

I got up and went to the bathroom mirror, my hands shaking. I looked into it, and I didn't look a day over thirty. It was the first time I'd really seen myself, the first time I'd bothered looking. It occurred to me that I was moving a lot better, more nimbly, than I had in years. It occurred to me that my skin was smoother and my hair was thick and heavy on my head. I was young and verile and handsom again.

I ran my hands over my face. My scar was gone.

"Oh God," I whispered.

I hurried back to the cell phone and tried to call Ashley back. I had to tell her that I loved her just once more, she had to know, she had to hear it. I wasn't supposed to die before her, I was supposed to die with her, peacefully, in our sleep years and years and years and years from now, when we were hundreds, maybe even thousands of years old.

But try as I might, I learned in that moment that my cell phone couldn't call out, that it was a one way communication, just her prayers reaching me across time and space.

I curled myself into a chair, hugging my knees to my chest, burying my face in my arms.

I wondered how I'd died and if I would be stuck here, forever on tour, always anticipating going home to Ashley, for the rest of eternity.