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“Sounds like a plan. If you want to swim, I can turn the heater on.”
“No. No swimming. I’m observing this week. Not participating.”
She unlocked the back of the car and grabbed plastic grocery bags of leftovers from the gifts her neighbors and family had provided.
“I have stuff from Lila, too,” Devon said, unable to carry much because of his burns.
“We’ll eat it all eventually,” Aisling said. “I swear I’ve got more Italian food than Primo’s Pizza has on their menu.”
“I’m not that hungry, to tell you the truth,” Devon said.
“Me either. I hope my appetite comes back. If you get company, we’re set.”
“No one will come up here,” Devon said. “Everyone is too afraid of me right now.”
“Because of the burns?” she asked gently as they put the food away.
“That and because of what happened. Not that I care, mind you. I’m grateful they’ll keep their distance. My experience has been that after a tragedy, people’s compassion has an expiration date.”
“Dev, it just happened a week ago.”
“Yeah, but now the funeral is over, everyone will expect us to get back to work. Don’t be surprised.”
“I won’t. It’s just a little disappointing. I’ll never be the same after this,” she said. “I wouldn’t expect someone else to get over it quickly, either.”
She got the rest of the food inside and put it away after Devon threw the old stuff in his fridge in the trash.
“I guess that’s it for me,” he said, yawning. “I want to get out of this uniform into sweatpants. My appetite is returning since I smelled Lila’s cake.”
“Let’s have cake, then. I’ll change, too.”
They went their separate ways, Devon to his old boyhood room that he’d never left, and Aisling to his parents’ master suite. It was so appropriate for the vintage of the home, with wood paneling and a George Jetson light fixture. Aisling and Mike had been honored when Devon had offered it to them as their permanent room.
After he’d removed his parents’ belongings, he told them they could decide whether to keep whatever artwork was in there, and they’d kept it all, loving the windswept watercolors of Big Sur and Monterey, Bodega Bay and Sausalito, all places Ray and Marie had gone to on their honeymoon thirty-five years earlier. They’d replaced the mattress and pillows, and Aisling had bought new linens and added a few things of theirs. It was truly a home away from home.
But now, it was just depressing. Mike wasn’t there. His dress uniform was on his body. Before they put him in the grave, she’d instructed that all the medals and other paraphernalia be taken off his suit for posterity. After all, Mike’s mother might want it.
Thoughts moving to the macabre, Aisling sat on the edge of the bed she’d shared with Mike on long weekends when they were off work, choosing to be up here in the clouds with the ocean view, the beautiful pool, and only Devon and Tilly as company. She closed her eyes and the vision was there, of a burned body in dress blues, lying with his hands folded across his stomach. The funeral with the bagpipes and hundreds of firefighters from around California and the rest of the country wasn’t just for a firefighter, it was also for a soldier who would have been leaving for Iraq in three weeks. Some other poor soul would be leaving instead, saying goodbye to his wife. But chances were he’d come home alive. If Mike had gone to Iraq instead of to the Ridge Fire, he’d probably still be alive. The voice of reason told her that wasn’t necessarily true, but the inner argument would continue for years. What if.
A tap on the door put an end to her introspection. Devon wouldn’t allow her to ponder alone. They’d do it together, philosophizing, looking back, but not looking forward, yet. There was no future without Mike. They’d both take it one day at a time.
“What are you doing?” he asked when she went to the door.
“Feeling sorry for myself. What about you?”
“Same. Do you want to fix a plate? We can go out and watch the sunset. It’s getting earlier and earlier every day. I’m not ready for winter.”
“No, I’m not either. Come. Ralph is already on my bed sleeping.”
“Oh no. Ha! I’m sorry. He just makes himself at home.”
They went into the kitchen and unpacked some of the food, deciding Lila’s soup and bread would be a perfect meal. Watching Devon try to do anything was painful, so Aisling took a stand.
“I insist you sit down. It can’t be good to move around like you’re doing.”
“Actually, they told me it was good. Something about blood clots forming.”
“Right, I know that! I’m a nurse. At least I was. I’m not sure I’ll remember what to do when I have to go back next week.”
