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Now, it was mostly silent. Her favorite songs too painful to hear, too reminiscent of a time when life was perfect.
Tightness coiled in her chest, twisting until she could no longer draw a full breath. The metronome of her heart no longer beat properly. It hadn’t since the day he left her, the day her world broke into a thousand unfixable pieces.
Vivid flashes of that day raced through her mind, and she flinched at the grotesque reality of the nightmare that became her life. The scent of ice and snow mixed with the burn of rubber. The flash of red lights against the trees. The sight of blood, and his blank, unblinking eyes. The scream that shattered her world when they told her he was gone.
Totaled, the car never returned home, only a few personal possessions left on the driver’s seat that the emergency responders had salvaged. Meaningless, but oh so significant. An ice scraper, his cell phone, and a box of lightbulbs for the porch.
She could hardly breathe for months, every inhalation a serrated reminder that she was alone, and he was gone. She’d passed an entire year in tormented surrealness. Her reality didn’t make sense. They were Maggie and Nash. They were going to start a family. They were happy. Ridiculously happy. This wasn’t the way things were supposed to go.
Her lungs seized as she covered her mouth, smothering a sob. She hated to cry in front of him. Not that he was there. It was a graveyard. But she always felt like he watched her whenever she visited the cemetery.
Her gaze turned to the gray sky, and she blinked back her tears. “Sorry.”
Pushing up from the cold ground, she ignored the damp stains on her knees and pressed a kiss to her fingers where they poked out of her cutoff gloves. She traced her fingers over his name.
“I love you.”
She waited for the silent beat to pass, giving him plenty of chance to say it back from wherever he was. Turning away, she lost the fight against the choking sobs and bundled her arms deep in her jacket pockets.
Taking brisk strides toward her bike, she sniffled, trails of tears chilling her chapped cheeks. Adjusting the wool beanie cap on her head, she placed the thermos in the basket of her bicycle, then pivoted in the direction of her house.
She hadn’t driven since the accident. With their car totaled, the idea of driving terrified her. There were the rare occasions she accepted lifts from others, mostly when snow made it impossible to ride her bike home from work, but she was never easy about traveling in cars.
Center County was known for its brutal winters. She used to love the snow. Her affection changed when a small patch of ice stole her husband’s life and her future.
Cheeks frozen, she peddled around the bend and her shoulders tensed at the sight of her sister Perrin’s small blue car parked at the curb. Great, Maggie thought, brushing her gloved palm over her cheeks to erase the tracks of her tears.
Mrs. Nanomaker’s house stood vacant on the corner, the FOR SALE sign an unceremonious declaration that someone could buy the house at any time, though no one had attended the many open houses that took place shortly after her neighbor’s passing.
Maggie had adjusted to the quiet of their block. She preferred the solitude, but her peace was not impenetrable. When outsiders came to visit, the slightest noise caused the greatest disturbance. Her sister was no exception.
Turning her bike into the driveway, Maggie hopped off just before the shed, the pedals still spinning. Perrin waited on the back porch, two cups of coffee from the local café in her gloved hands.
“You’re out early.”
Maggie mimicked her sister’s smile with a brittle one. Her sister knew where she’d been. It was no secret she visited Nash’s grave every morning.
“Where were you?” Perrin held out a paper cup of coffee.
Maggie accepted the cup and unlocked the back door. “You know where I was.”
Her sister made no comment and followed her into the kitchen. Maggie leaned her hip into the corner of the counter and waited. Perrin’s gaze scanned the unchanged interior of the house, seeking a point of small talk or silently judging the lack of progress.
Progress was one of those fancy buzzwords regular people liked to throw around as if they had some secret intellect on the stages of grief. Another two cent term was closure. Everyone was so concerned about her progress and closure, as if it were that easy.
Didn’t they know her heart had been ripped to shreds? Sometimes things were too messy to simply close.
“Do you need something?” She plucked off her hat and stuffed it in the front pocket of her jacket.
Her sister’s manicured brows pulled together in a familiar look of concern. Her short, windswept blonde hair at complete odds with Maggie’s long, straggly brown waves.
