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“Yes, we do, and they do, too. Those babies have so many people who love them.” After a pause, she adds, “Will you call me if you need me?”
“Always.”
“We love you so much.”
“Love you, too. I’ll be okay. I promise.”
“I’ll call you later.”
“I’ll be here.”
Long after I end the call with my mom, I sit on the mudroom floor, staring at the wall and trying to get my mind to quit spinning so I can function.
My phone chimes with a text from Steve.The report is in. Do you want to see it?
Do I want to see it?
No, I do not.
My phone rings with a call from a news channel in Wisconsin, where the crash occurred.
I respond to Steve.No, I don’t think I should see it. The media is calling me.
Don’t take those calls. I’m talking to a crisis communication expert about how to deal with this.
The phrasecrisis communicationsends my anxiety through the roof.
I’m trembling so hard, I can barely hold the phone.What’s going to happen?
I’m not sure. I’ve never been through something like this. I’ll keep you posted if you want me to.
Maybe just the need-to-know stuff.
Understood.
By the time I pull myself off the floor, an hour has gone by. A precious hour that could’ve been used for laundry, cleaning and many more of the endless chores that make up my days. I also planned to do some work on a business plan I’ve been developing to provide a wide variety of support services to single parents. It’s a lofty idea born of my own circumstances as well as a TikTok following I’ve stumbled into by posting about the perils of single parenthood. In forming my plan, I’ve focused on the needs I would’ve had if I had no support system. I was looking forward to getting back to work on that, but it’s not happening today.
In the kitchen, I make a cup of coffee and sit with it at the table, staring out into the backyard, my gaze drawn to the play set Mike and Rob spent an entire weekend assembling. My heart aches for Mike, who took such incredible pride in his work. A finding of fault in an accident would’ve devastated him.
I get a text from Tracey, the wife of the copilot.I can’t believe this. I’m heartbroken.
Same. I don’t even know what to say.
The families of the other people killed in the crash have become close friends as we supported each other through unimaginable loss. Will they turn away from us now?
My phone rings incessantly with calls from media outlets. Thankfully, the names of the places pop up on my caller ID so I can decline the calls and block the numbers. Do they honestly think I’m going to have something to say to them?
I get a text from Jeanette, the wife of one of the other men who was killed in the crash.I’m so sorry, Iris. I know this has to be heartbreaking for you, as it is for all of us. Whatever happens next… Please don’t take it personally. Be well.
God, that all but assures they’re going to sue the company because of my late husband’s negligence. How do I not take that personally? Ugh, I cannot add that to my own agony.
When the doorbell rings, I’m terrified of who and what I might find on my front porch. I go to the door, peek through the glass and am shocked to see Gage. I unlock the door and open it.
He comes in, bringing cold air and the appealing scent that takes me right back to being in his bed. “I saw the news. I figured you might need a friend.”
I walk into his outstretched arms and lose it all over again.
“Shhhh.” He runs his hand over my back in soothing circles. “What can I do?”
