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Hours pass, and I’m shocked when the bar starts getting busy. That’s when I realize it’s well past dark, and not wanting to be this pathetic fuck up, I hightail it out of there, finishing off what’s left in my glass.
I stumble down the sidewalk, only stopping when I pass the liquor store. Disgust fills me, remembering my first date with Gigi, how I walked around with a hand on her lower back, practically claiming her. Was I thinking about Sara then? Was I thinking about her when I took Gigi back to my home? The home I built with Sara. No. I fucking wasn’t. Where were my fucking vows then? Where was my loyalty?
What the hell is wrong with Gigi to even bother with someone like me?
I’m broken. I put on a good show for Georgie, but soon enough she’ll grow up and realize that her father is nothing. Has nothing.
Fuck.
After purchasing a bottle of rum, I stumble out of the store and start walking the long trek to the cemetery. I weave my way through the angel statues and headstones before walking the familiar steps toward Sara.
I bring Georgie here all the time so she can talk to her mommy, but being here alone on the day that’s supposed to be filled with love is fucking awful.
I stand before her as a shallow, empty man and drop to my knees, just staring at her grave. “Happy anniversary, baby,” I whisper, lifting the rum to my lips and willing it to dull the ache.
How did it ever come to this?
A lump forms in my throat as I lift my gaze and read her name across the headstone. In loving memory, Sara Jane Waters. Wife. Daughter. Mother.
Tears sting my eyes, and as I sit here in front of my wife, I feel nothing but hollow. I thought I was starting to heal with Gigi, and maybe I am, but right now, it’s just . . . nothing. I’m empty, desperately clinging onto the ghosts of my past.
I fall from my knees into a distraught pile in the cool grass, willing myself to hold the sobs at bay. I need Georgie. I need to seek out the comfort I find within her, but I refuse to allow her to see me this way.
The flowers Georgie and I left here last week look atrocious, and I curse myself for not bringing her new ones. She deserves the best flowers money can buy, especially on our fucking wedding anniversary. I was too caught up in my grief and selfish need to dull the pain that I forgot to bring her flowers.
FUCK.
Anger shoots through me, and I launch the bottle of rum across the cemetery. The bottle shatters against a tree into thousands of pieces. “I’m so sorry,” I tell her, feeling like a pathetic piece of shit. “You deserved so much better than me.”
I sit in silence, lost in my memories. I owe it to Sara to tell her what’s going on with me. She deserves a conversation, and even though I’m more than aware she isn’t here anymore, I know she’s here in spirit, always looking down on me and Georgie.
“It hurts, baby,” I breathe, the words getting stuck on the lump in my throat. “Why’d you have to go? I feel like I’m starting to find myself again until days like this come around, then I’m nothing. Sara, I’m nothing without you.”
My head hangs as the grief overwhelms me.
“I just . . . please. I need you in my arms again. Come back, baby. I promise, I will never let you go again. Please, I’ll be better. I’ll put the trash out. I’ll clean more. Anything, I’ll do anything, baby. Just come home to me. I need you. Don’t you see how badly I need you?”
I sit, wallowing in my grief until the lump in my throat disappears, and I prepare to be upfront. “I’ve met someone,” I tell her. “I’m sorry. I love you so much, Sara, but I think I love her too. She’s helping the pain go away, and she adores Georgie. I think you’ll like her. I was scared at first. I didn’t know how to be with anyone else, but she slotted straight into my life. And what’s more, she respects us and she respects you. But, I just . . .” I let out a shaky breath. “I just need you to let me know I’m doing the right thing.”
The chill has well and truly seeped into the air, but the liquor in my body is keeping me warm, so I sit here for hours until I can no longer bear it. The overwhelming need to curl up next to her headstone hits me, but I know I can’t do that, and I push myself to my feet and stand before her for just a moment.
