He lies down next to me. “Yes, grief will do that to you.”
I’ve decided to stay for the night, and have called Cassie to make the necessary arrangements.
“Thank you for this,” I tell him. “Thank you for being here for me.”
He smiles. “Ditto.”
“She used to always have purple Popsicles for me,” he says, a wide smile tracing his lips. “But only purple. I wanted banana and orange, but no, Judy only liked the purple ones.”
I laugh. “But the purple ones are the best."
“I’m partial to banana and orange myself,” he tells me. “Speaking of which, you want one?” he asks. “I only have orange and banana.”
“Yes,” I cheer. “Orange please.”
He hops off of the bed, and rushes downstairs.
He’s back a minute later, with an orange flavored popsicle for me, and a banana one for him. I feel like a kid as I crack my popsicle and tear into it. I knew moments of joy would sure come again eventually, but I never thought they’d come so quickly. We haven’t even had the funeral yet, and here I am enjoying life again. I’m suddenly filled with guilt, but I’m brought back to my own words, words spoken to Christian just earlier today.
Judy didn’t want any sad faces at her celebration of life. It’s supposed to be fun. It’s okay to be happy tonight.
We stay up late into the night swapping happy stories about Judy. I have more than he does, and I really enjoy sharing them with him. We both finally drift off to sleep, not in each other’s arms like the last time, but side by side, bellies full and hearts content.
* * *
Unfortunately, real life beckons as I wake, and the sad emotions sweep back in. Today is the funeral, and this will be a much more somber affair. I’m wearing my black dress, and there’s a lot of work to do, things to go over with her family. I’m very thankful for the night Colton and I shared, but that’s all it was. One night. It doesn’t change anything between us. I just needed a friend. I needed to be loved. I needed to forget.
“Hey, beautiful,” Colton whispers in my ear just as I'm about to get up. “How did you sleep?”
“I slept great.” I slide out of his grip. “Thank you so much, but I really need to get going. Lots to do today.”
Disappointment traces his features. “You can’t even stay for breakfast?”
“I should really go,” I insist as I pull my panties on. Funny enough, we never took off my bra.
“What was this?” he asks.
I gather my dress from the floor, and slip it back on. “It was…” I don’t know what to say. I struggle with my zip. I don’t want to hurt him, but I don’t want to lead him on either. “It was two friends turning to each other in a time of grief.”
“That’s it?” he scoffs. “Not for me,” he says. “It was so much more for me. I thought it was for you too.”
“I’m so sorry, Colton,” I say softly, “but I can’t talk about all this right now. I need to go, and I just can’t handle this right now.”
He doesn’t say another word, just stares at me with a blank expression. I give him a quick kiss goodbye, and rush out.
As I slip my heels and jacket back on, I realize that I could have handled that much better. But my brain is fuzzy, my heart still full of pain.
And I’m as confused as ever.
* * *
The funeral is beautiful, and so very sad. It breaks my heart to see Christian struggling to be a big boy and not cry. So many others are. The night before was a celebration, this is a goodbye. We’re all dressed in black and filled with sorrow. Colton and I glance at each other occasionally, and he looks as heartbroken as I am. I’m not sure if it’s because he’s upset with me or it’s just because he’s sad about Judy.
Christian is exhausted when we finally get home. I read him a story, and stroke his back as he falls asleep. His ‘Nana’ is gone, and it’s just the two of us now. I’m the only one he has. And because of that, I can’t be impulsive, and I don’t have the luxury of making wrong decisions. He’s my first priority, and comes above anything else.
* * *
I’m back at work on Tuesday. It’s a distraction if nothing else. Both Miriam and Cassie call often, checking up on me. I don’t hear from Colton. I’ve noticed he’s not keen on phone conversations. He seems to prefer emails and the occasional text.
