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“How are you feeling today?” David asks from beside me on the flannel blanket we’re sitting on, close enough that I can rest my head on his shoulder if I wanted to. He takes a bite out of a granola bar and then sips from his metal water bottle.
I smile and think for a moment before I admit, “Today is a good day.”
He grins and says softly, “Good.”
“I never thought I would get to them again,” I ponder thoughtfully, “they seemed impossible for so long.”
“The good days?” David asks.
“Yeah,” I answer, pausing on my flower braiding, putting my hands behind me to lean on them.
“I’m glad I can share some good days with you,” he says, his face close to beaming. “I can only imagine how difficult the first days, months, were,” he says quietly.
I turn to him again and nod, “They were terrible.”
He nods, considerately.
“One of the hardest things was just seeing life go on around me,” I say, looking up at the sky, feeling so thankful for the nice weather. The clouds drift slowly and the sun is sending soft rays of light towards us. “Driving to his funeral and feeling like it was the end of my own life, and then seeing the cars drive past me and people walking on the sidewalks—it was just a normal day for them. The men and women, the families that would pass me in grocery stores had no idea that I was barely hanging on by a thread, just trying to make it through the hours, the minutes. They woke up like they always did, they were living their lives without a care in the world. And they didn’t know that I was walking past them and my world was crumbling all around me.”
David watches me, listening intently. He reaches over to me to brush a piece of hair out of my face. I continue, “You don’t realize how fleeting your normal days are. All of the planned, expected, scheduled moments of your life that you’re ready to grasp, can be ripped away so fast you don’t even have a chance to say goodbye.” My voice breaks and I reach up to cover my eyes with my hand, trying to hide.
“Come here,” David murmurs gently. I drop my hand and look at him. His eyes are swimming with sadness and kindness, his arm outstretched. I don’t overthink it when I scoot even closer to him and lean into his warmth. His arm holds me close to his side, rubbing my arm up and down. His other arm reaches around to cup my face, gently guiding it to look up at him. “You have so many more good days waiting for you,” he promises, our eyes locked into each other. I see every brown and hazel speck in his eye. I’m close enough to him that I could count each of his dark eyelashes.
I nod, holding his gaze, believing his words. “I know,” I admit, “I can see them now.”
He smiles and kisses my forehead, his fingers making gentle strokes on the side of my face. I close my eyes, feeling the warm breeze of the approaching summer caress my skin. His lips pull away from my head and he lowers his hand to pick up a discarded red wildflower next to him. He reaches up and tucks it behind my ear then says, “I can see them too.”
FIFTY-FOUR
NOW, SUMMER
A few weeks later I find myself cursing at the sky.
I have always hated the rain.
But I hate the rain even more right now because my car broke down on the side of the road on my way home from work, and it’s raining. Not like cute droplets of the end of spring rain, but a torrential downpour coming from the heavens. I can barely see out the windows of my car, and I’m just praying that anyone driving by will see my flashing hazards and either go around me slowly, or stop to help me—as long as they're not murderers.
I called my 24/7 roadside assistance people about thirty minutes ago and they should be here soon. But right now, I’m sitting alone in my car while the rain and wind beat down around me.
I eventually see a dark blue maxi van slowly drive up behind me and park. I can see their hazards flashing and then a dark blurry figure get out and walk up to my window. With an internal groan, I roll my window down, knowing I’m going to get wet.
“You the one who called?” the guy asks, his voice gruff like he’s smoked every day since he was born. I can make out a scruffy and uneven beard on a pale face from beneath his hood. He must be in his late fifties. His eyes are dark, almost black. He immediately gives me creepy vibes, but I see the company logo on his rain jacket and hope that I’m just being judgmental.
“Yes,” I respond. “Thank you so much for coming.”
“Of course. You’re lucky I’m here, on an empty street with nobody around you. Not a single car on this road. It’s a miracle that I found you.” He grins, showing yellowing teeth. I instantly have a terrible feeling in my gut. “Why don’t you pop that for me?” he asks in an incredibly suggestive way.
I stop my mouth from dropping before I say, “Excuse me?”
“The hood, beautiful.” He winks and my stomach turns. I’ve never been so disgusted by that sentiment.
“Oh, yeah.” I reach down and pop the hood. I give him a leveled and serious look. A look that I hope says I’m not the type to be messed with. He stares at me from under his hood for a long time, his face getting soaking wet despite it, then he saunters to the front of my car and examines it for a while. I want to make a smart ass retort about leaving me the hell alone but my gut is telling me not to engage. I’m alone, on the side of the road and in a very vulnerable position. I’m strong and tough and an independent woman, but judging from his size he could probably overpower me. I roll my windows up and make sure the doors are locked before I grab my phone and call the first person I think of right now.
It rings for just a second before I hear his warm voice, and in this moment it secures itself around my heart like a life jacket, “Ana,” David says, and I can tell he’s smiling by the way he says my name.
“David. I need you to come get me,” I say, trying and failing to keep my voice from being scared.
“Where are you?” he asks, his voice taking on an edge I’ve never heard before. I hear movement coming from his end. “What’s going on?”
