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His shoulders dropped. “I’m sorry. I know, but don’t you think it’s weird that you haven’t gotten pregnant? Maybe we need to see a doctor.”
I didn’t want to see a doctor yet, but concern was evident and written all over Bridger’s face, so I agreed reluctantly for his sake. In the meantime, we began checking things off our bucket list whenever we had free time, and the conversation about kids or a doctor didn’t resurface. Once we got on the road, Bridger realized that now probably wasn’t the most ideal time to have a baby. We had a lot of living to do before we changed our lifestyle completely.
Even though we didn’t talk about it, I did have my concerns about not being able to get pregnant, and they scratched at the back of my mind from time to time. What if we couldn’t have kids? What then? Would we adopt? Would our marriage fall apart? Some thoughts were more rational than others, but hadn’t marriages ended for far less? At some point, we may have to face some hard truths and get our questions answered.
Although we had tried for almost five years before Bridger was diagnosed, we never got pregnant. The doctor gave us both a clean bill of reproductive health, so I accepted that it must not have been in the cards for us. Eventually, we stopped talking about it because it became too painful and was putting a wedge in our marriage. We agreed to let fate be. I got Midnight to fill the void. It wasn’t the same as a having a baby by any means, but it was something to love.
Just the short conversations with Drew and Levi had resurrected memories that I tried not to revisit too often. Bridger in the hospital, Bridger’s going away party, our wedding, and ten-year vow renewal. The memories rushed me all at once, and it was almost too much to carry. One of my fondest memories, though, were the years Bridger and I came back to this beach on our anniversary to skinny-dip in honor of our first surf lesson where I lost my bathing suit. I’ll admit, the first year I chickened out of skinny-dipping and he ended up doing it alone, but I joined him every year after, even in the pouring rain. Two months after we celebrated our thirteenth wedding anniversary, Bridger was diagnosed with PH and our future slowly disintegrated with him.
I stopped scrolling through the pictures on my phone and curled up on my bed with Midnight, hugging my empty belly tightly. If we had a child, it would have given me a reason to move forward, but we didn’t and I couldn’t live in the world of what-ifs because it didn’t have the power to change the present. I turned off my phone and closed my eyes.
In the morning, I felt better. As I was getting ready for my daily trip to the café, the wall calendar I had purchased in the café’s little gift shop area caught my attention. The calendar was silly, filled with funny dog images, but it was this or a fish one. I had only added one thing on it. A broken heart around Bridger’s death day, which was approaching soon. His ashes filled a small wooden box on a little table next to the couch. The box itself was unmarked and insignificant compared to what was stored inside. When Bridger gave the box to me, it contained something vastly different and represented so much hope. Now it was a reminder of how much I lost.
A week after Bridger propositioned me with a family, he had made a special dinner with all of my favorites: chipotle penne, garlic bread, wine, and molten chocolate cake. It was over the top and bound to give us a food hangover the next day and it had seemed to be out of nowhere. After dinner, he had pulled me over to the crackling fireplace, turned on our wedding song, a haunting version of “I’ll Stand by You”, and got down on one knee and presented me with a wooden box.
“What are you doing?” I laughed. “I already married you once.”
He smiled deeply and held up the box. My stomach flipped with anticipation as I took the box from his hands. “You’re crazy,” I teased.
“Maybe, but you are the one who’s stuck with me forever.” He winked.
I squealed quietly as I fumbled with the lid. Once it was open, Bridger asked, “Charlee, will you do me the honor of having a family with me?”
I pulled out a little silver spoon engraved with Baby Cooper. I stared at it for a moment as if I was holding our firstborn child. “Bridger, it’s perfect.” The words caught in my throat and I teared up.
Tears filled his eyes as well, and he jumped up, hugging me tightly and twirling me around. I couldn’t help but giggle hysterically.
“I love you, Charlee Cooper.”
“I love you, too, Bridger Cooper.”
It only seemed fitting to store Bridger’s ashes in the little wooden box until I was ready to spread them here at our beach. In our ocean. His dream was to chase waves all over the world, and once I scattered them, he could fulfill that dream on the other side of this life. The waves would take his ashes to every corner of the planet, and one day I would join him so we could travel it together. Nottill death do us part,buttill death do us part and beyond.
It was hard to believe that it had been almost two years since Bridger died when it felt so fresh and raw, like it was only weeks ago. It seemed abnormal and made me wonder how people moved on and survived outside of the loss. It seemed so intangible.
On my way out to the café, I threw on an oversized cardigan and leashed up Midnight. It was a cool morning with a heavy fog that threatened to hang on for the entirety of the day. I hugged my cardigan tightly around me and walked briskly up the path. I didn’t bring Midnight often, but Beverly didn’t seem to mind the first time I did and, on the contrary, I think she rather enjoyed the visits.
“Morning, Beverly.” I scooped Midnight up as I stepped inside.
Her expression immediately melted when she spotted Midnight. She definitely had a soft spot for her.
“It’s about time you brought my baby to visit again. It’s been too long.” She came around from the counter and cupped Midnight’s face. Midnight responded by licking Beverly’s hands and then her nose when she was close enough.
The first time I had brought Midnight, Beverly told me about her dog who had passed away. I assumed it was very recent because Beverly had teared up immediately.
“I still miss my Daisy something fierce.” She smiled warmly now. “How’s your ankle, hon? I was so busy last night I didn’t get a chance to ask you.”
“Better. Thank you.”
“I saw that strapping young man sit with you last night.” Her lips curled up slyly.
When I didn’t respond, she continued, “He seems like a nice fella. He comes in here multiple times a day.” She led me to my booth as she talked. “I think he’s hoping to see you here. He asks about you a lot.”
I was surprised when a thrill of excitement shot through me. “Oh yeah? What do you tell him?” I slid into the booth and put Midnight in between the window and me.
“To leave you alone,” she said matter-of-factly followed by a deep, guttural laugh.
I smiled then. I haven’t said much to Beverly, but she’s always given off a tender, motherly vibe that I have solely missed. “Well, he’s not heeding your very well-intentioned advice.”
