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“Gotta keep you busy,” is all he says as he leaves the room, returning a moment later with a gift. It’s a medium-size box, which has me worried. What could it be? “Have faith in me, Elizabeth,” he repeats for the second time today.
Turns out, it’s only cookie cutters. They are in the shapes of flowers. There’s also cans of icing and sprinkles.
“We’re going to bake cookies and decorate them the way normal people would. Then, we’re going to eat all of them.” He stands, holds out his hands, and adds, “Come on. We have work to do.”
I let him pull me up, and then I kiss him. It’s just one, simple, sweet kiss. He’s kept his promise. This has been a good day.
Today is Roger’s birthday. It is not a good day. I left Marc’s, and he thought I was going to see Sylvia and the girls. I’m not. Instead, I’m sitting on the cold ground next to a tombstone with my shoulder resting against it. On past birthdays, I’ve talked to him. Sometimes, I didn’t, but I’ve always spent the day with him.
I’m uncertain what I want to do today, so I’ve been silent thus far. This is the first time I’ve felt both at ease and yet uncomfortable here. I mean, just yesterday I was with someone else, someone who doesn’t even know I’m here now.
That familiar guilt rears its ugly head. “I’m sorry,” I finally whisper, leaning my head against the side of the stone as I watch the limbs of a nearby tree sway back and forth with the strong breeze. I rest my hand on the ground and pick at the dead grass. “I guess we don’t need to go over my guilt again. You’re probably tired of hearing about that anyway. But if we don’t talk about that, then that means we have to talk about Marc, and I don’t know which would be worse.”
Hearing footsteps, I stop talking and look behind me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask Scott. He never comes here when he knows that I’m visiting Roger and they all know when I come. Practice must be over, and for a second, I worry that he told Marc about me being here, but I should know better.
“I came to check on my brother and my sister-in-law.” He sits down next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “How are you doing?”
I shrug. My eyes begin to burn with a sudden need to cry. “It feels different this time. I’ve felt the same way each time I’ve come, but now, it’s different. I don’t think I want it to be different.”
“Aw, Lizzy,” he whispers. He pulls me closer. The tears fall without my permission. “If you’re happy, then you know he’s happy. The day he married you, after all the convincing you had to do to get your parents to come to the wedding, do you know what he made me promise him?”
I shake my head.
“He said that if anything ever happened to him, he wanted Sylvie and me to look after you. Make sure you took care of yourself and had someone around for support because he didn’t think your parents would be. He said if he wasn’t here and you found someone else, to make sure you let yourself be happy again.” My crying turns to sobs now. “It always confused the hell out of me that he was thinking about this on your wedding day, but I think he just wanted to make sure he always did his husbandly duty to take care of you, even if he wasn’t here to do it himself. So, it feeling different is a good thing. You don’t have to do anything you aren’t ready for, but do what makes you happy.”
I nod. Scott wipes away my tears and quietly sits with me. As a thought occurs to me, I can’t help but voice it to Scott. “What do you think would’ve happened if he was still here when I’d met Marc?” We both would’ve met Marc at some point had Roger been alive, and it probably would’ve been sooner than when I met him.
Scott frowns. “What do you mean? Like, would you have still been attracted to Marc if Roger was alive?”
“Yeah, I guess so.” I don’t know what I mean.
“I think Marc wouldn’t’ve annoyed you as much as he did in the beginning, and you might have found him attractive, but that’s it, Lizzy. There’s no reason to think about what would’ve happened if they were both here.”
I want to ask him if he thinks Roger would forgive me for what I did, but that would be inappropriate and Scott would be a bad person to ask.
“How was yesterday with Marc?”
“Good. I’m actually glad I didn’t spend it alone.”
“That’s good. Are you going to spend all day here?”
I nod. Stupid questions don’t deserve for my breath to be wasted on an answer.
“Marc know you’re here?”
“He thinks I’m with Sylvia and the girls.”
“Maybe you should let him know you’re here instead. Only because it seems like you’ve been open with him, so why stop now?”
“I’ll think about it.”
Scott nods. “Okay, well, I’m leaving now. I just wanted to see you and talk to you for a few minutes. Maybe you and Marc can come over for supper sometime.”
“Yeah, maybe we can.”
But right now, I’m going to sit next to the grave of my late husband and try not to think about anyone but him. I think about everything he’s missing because he’s not here. About how he would’ve grown over the years. How he may have looked now, which is probably more like Scott because the Boyd men have strong genes. I try to think about what our future would’ve looked like, but it’s botched and Marc keeps replacing Roger. That rattles me. I should be able to see certain aspects easily, but I’m not because Marc is the one who keeps showing up in my mind. I know I should move on, and I want to, but I should be able to remember Roger in peace, too. Upset and bothered, I mutter a goodbye and leave earlier than I normally do.
