I shook my head.
“OK, then. When you are ready I will pull away the sheet. Let me know as soon as you can if you can identify the body. Take your time.”
I nodded for him to proceed, to get it over and done with as soon as possible.
My hands were clammy with perspiration as the doctor lifted the corner of the sheet. He pulled it back to reveal a familiar yet distorted face beneath.
It’s over.
Exhaling the breath I’d been holding I responded, “That’s my husband. That’s Eric.”
I was surprised by my lack of reaction; my eyes stayed dry, my heartbeat was steady and my breathing was a little fast, but only due to the lengths I’d walked. All the way down to the morgue, it had felt like I was about to go into meltdown at any moment, but now that I was there, seeing for myself his expressionless face, a blanket of calm came over me.
Eric looked so small, so powerless lying there, his upper torso discoloured and bruised, his face misshapen. Lifeless, he bared no resemblance to who he’d been in his forty-odd years. And for the briefest of seconds my calmness was replaced with relief.
Appalled at myself, I brought a hand to my mouth, and let appropriate tears escape and wash over my cheeks.
Eric was dead.
I was left alone in the world. And all I could keep thinking was: thank god it was over.
I’d found a chair not far from the nurse’s station and sat alone with my thoughts, unsure of what I was supposed to do next, letting the hours dwindle away. It didn’t seem right to just leave him there and go back to our home alone without him. I’d waited for someone official to come find me, to give me some guidance, but no one approached me. Even the collection of leaflets that were spread haphazardly on the small table beside me could not help me navigate this unknown territory. It seemed like there was a leaflet for everything but what to do when a family member died.
A loud male voice penetrated my thoughts, and I glanced up. Taken aback at seeing my stepbrother Harvey walk towards me, I got to my feet, puzzled at why he was here. I hadn’t called him, didn’t want to bother anyone with my troubles. A blonde-haired woman followed behind him, an expensive handbag flung across her shoulder, her nose inches away from her phone.
As Harvey approached, my pulse quickened, as it always did whenever I saw him. There was just something about his presence, his dominating stature in a room, that made me uneasy. His neutral face, solid jawline and broad cheekbones, bore no expression. Beneath the surface, though, I detected a whiff of annoyance, or maybe I was reading too much into his stoic features.
Judging from his clothing, dressed from top to bottom in exquisite formal attire, it was clear he’d been on a date, the lady behind him the lucky woman in question. No wonder he looked mildly pissed, I thought. I’d ruined their evening.
“You shouldn’t have come,” I said as he invaded the space in front of me. Gifted with height, he towered over me, his shoulders, thick and expansive enclosed within his suit jacket, made him look more formidable, too. His inside shirt hugged his defined torso. I let my eyes fall, feeling guilty that he’d come all this way, and I watched as his chest puffed out as he inhaled, the crisp white shirt stretching slightly with each controlled breath.
“Sara, you couldn’t have kept me away,” he replied as I met his clear blue eyes. There was a flash of pity? Or was it worry?
We stood for a beat looking at each other before he pulled me towards him and took me in his arms.
“How did you know?” I asked, my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat thudding steadily. I was dangerously on the verge of tears. Enveloped in his arms, I’d never felt safer, and my body shook with grief. The tremors were not for my husband but for the loss of something I never thought I needed. My body was on overload. I couldn’t remember the last time someone held me as tight as this, put their whole self into a hug. Officer Pierce had done his best with his handholding, but this was something much more intense. I didn’t want Harvey to let me go.
“Someone from the hospital called me. I should’ve been here sooner. I’m so sorry, Sara.”
“They told me he didn’t suffer, it was painless,” I said, believing his apology was sympathy for my loss.
He pulled and looked down at me. “Pity. I never liked the bastard anyway.”
3
Harvey
Sara looked lost when I first spotted her at the end of the corridor. Hunched over in her seat, her body broken in more ways than one.
My stepsister wasn’t the greatest looking beauty in the world, but she’d had this light when I first met her, something that pulled you in, that made you want to be around her—a spirit that told the world to fuck off, that she could do anything. But over time, it faded to nothingness. She spent less and less time with the family, pushing us away, happily building up her new life with her husband, or at least that’s what I’d thought.