Captive(11)
“I just don’t see the point anymore,” she said softly. “There’s no reason to even get out of bed. No one to cook breakfast for. No one to clean up after.”
“Fifty-one years of marriage is a very long time,” I said. “It’s completely normal to feel this way.”
“Henry was my other half. Part of me died with him. I’m just a shell now, going through the motions. I put on a good front for my kids and grandkids, but inside …”
Her words sent a tingle down my spine. I wanted to tell her I knew all too well how she was feeling. That I was also going through the motions and wondering why I bothered.
“Have you thought at all about what we talked about last week? About setting some goals?” I asked. Last week had been a lifetime ago. I’d been pregnant then; my baby and my dreams had still been alive.
Margo smiled and I saw the first flicker of life in her eyes since she’d come in my office. “I don’t want any new goals. We had a wonderful life together, my Henry and I. We achieved all the goals we ever had. And at my age … I just wish I could’ve gone with him.”
“Do you ever wonder if he’s looking down on you?”
She furrowed her brows and smiled. “I know he is. I feel him with me sometimes.”
“What would Henry want for you, Margo?”
Her smile got wider. “He’d want me to take the trips we were planning before he got sick. A train ride across Europe and an African safari. Oh, was he excited about that safari.”
“So why don’t you go?”
She opened her mouth, closed it again, and sighed. “I don’t think I’d enjoy it without him. I’d be thinking the entire time about how much he wanted to see those places, and how he never will.”
“But didn’t you just tell me you feel him with you?”
“I don’t want to be the crazy old lady who talks to her dead husband.” She shook her head and waved a bony hand.
“So bring your grandkids and talk to them. Just think about it, okay?”
“You’re a sweet girl,” she said, patting my knee. “You remind me of my granddaughter.”
“Thank you. Call me anytime, you’ve got the card I gave you.” I put my hand on top of hers and she nodded before getting up.
“See you next week,” she said, standing up.
“Consider the Tuesday night group, okay? There are several widows and widowers in it. And you don’t have to talk.”
I walked her out to the tiny lobby of the office I shared with Kirk and another counselor. When the door closed behind her, I walked into Kirk’s office and flopped into the beat-up blue chair I loved.
“How we doin’?” he asked, taking off his dark-rimmed glasses and turning away from his computer monitor.
“Same,” I said. I’d told Kirk about the miscarriage because he’d had to cover my appointments.
He cracked the window behind his desk and lit a cigarette.
“I’m like a drunk AA leader,” I muttered. “When clients tell me they feel like shit, I want to tell them I do, too.”
Kirk blew a mouthful of smoke through the screen. “Empathy makes us better counselors.”
“I have so much to be happy about. What the hell is wrong with me?”
“You’re too hard on yourself. That’s the main thing. You’re also overly cautious and indecisive.”
“I didn’t mean for you to answer that.” I glared at him across his faux-wood desk.
“You’re resilient,” he said, cracking his knuckles one at a time.
“I don’t want to be resilient. I don’t want to be that woman who can’t have children so she rescues animals and gives the best Halloween candy in the neighborhood.”
“What do you want to be?” Kirk asked, stubbing out the cigarette, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers counselor-style.
“A mother. I wanted to be the mother of my husband’s children.” It was the first time I’d said the words out loud, and the past-tense statement brought on a new wave of sadness.
“I’m sorry, Kate. Do you need some more time off?”
I shook my head and stared at my hands in my lap. “No. With Ryke gone, I’d just mope around the apartment. I guess … life goes on, right?”
Kirk nodded and offered a tiny smile. “It does. And you’ll go on, too, when you’re ready.”
***
I pulled the bed covers around my neck, enjoying the blissfully relaxing state of waking up slowly. Ryke stirred and hooked an arm around my waist, pulling my back against his warm chest.
It was Friday, and today was the first day we’d woken up together all week. He’d had a road trip and then a trip to L.A. for a two-day photo shoot for an endorsement ad campaign. I remembered him crawling into bed the night before, but we hadn’t seen each other face to face since last Sunday.