Alone

Gillian walked into the living room and her heart dropped as she saw that it was empty. There was a blanket crumpled up into a messy ball on one side of the sofa. Hiding behind the ball, was a deflated pillow. She could recognize the outline of her husband’s profile uncomfortably pressed into it. The house was modestly furnished with simple furniture not taking up any more square inches than absolutely necessary. Her slender fingers reached over to feel the warmth from the blanket. A part of her was tempted to fold it up neatly, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Instead she walked over to the kitchen and gently swung the door open. The cool breath of the ice box kissed her aged paper skin as her eyes found the wine bottle. It was nearly empty and seemed to have only been opened once. Tears struggled to amass at the corner of Gillian’s eyes but to no avail. She had enough of crying. Her tired feet carried her back to the sofa, where she dropped her face into her balmy palms. Just then, the door opened.

It was her husband. No words could be spoken. He placed his things on the coffee table and headed to the refrigerator to finish up the bottle that he started on just hours prior to his entry. She did not get up, did not move, just lifted her head. She looked at him in a vain attempt to will her husband to notice her presence. He just past by her, the subtle scent of alcohol and grapes followed him as he sat on the other end of the sofa. Her eyes were fixated on him, pleading for him to acknowledge her presence while his eyes were promptly glued to nothing in particular.

Frustrated, she stood up and went into the bedroom. The linens were untouched and each pillow had been left exactly where she left it. It had been four days since anyone other than herself had been in that bedroom. She ripped the sheets from corner to corner and climbed into the cold bed. Her body curled into fetal position as she pulled the sheets back over her. It was the closest thing to an embrace that she’s felt in some days.

Sleep was as elusive a goal as calling her husband to join her in bed. She could hear him taking his shoes off and adjusting his aching body onto the uneven cushions of the sofa. She tugged the blanket to cover her mouth taking a deep breath hoping there was still the scent of her husband still in the fibers free of the stench of cheap wine. A knock on the door startled her.

She lifted her head to point her ears in the direction of the knocking. First she noticed the sound of her husband’s blanket being slung over and his legs swaying his feet onto the floor. The sound of his argyle-socked foot shoved efficiently into his wool slippers was unmistakable. The rhythmic flip flopping of the slippers on the hardwood floor shuttled toward the knocking door.

“Hang on,” he muttered as the clickety-clacking of the locks and door knob served as a fanfare to welcome the visitor on the other side.

“Hey,” the voice of a young woman greeted him. She emerged from the bed and walked towards the bedroom door, which was slightly ajar and saw her husband embrace the woman. “How are you?”

“I’m doing okay,” he answered. “You didn’t have to come here, Claudia.”

“I know I didn’t,” Claudia replied, “I wanted to.” Claudia walked into the kitchen and placed a bag full of groceries onto the counter. She reached over and squeezed his arm then headed to the living room where she collected the empty wine bottle and neatly folds the blanket. “How long have you been sleeping on the couch, dad?”

“It’s been four days,” he answered. Claudia looked at her father with sympathetic eyes and walked to the bedroom. She opened the door and saw the bed neatly made, linens untouched, and every pillow where they had been four days ago. “I can’t sleep in the bed anymore.”

“I know it’s tough,” Claudia remarked, “She passed away less than a week ago. But sleeping on that sofa is no good for that back of yours. And we both know what a fuss you kick up when I invite you over to our house.”

“I know, honey, and I appreciate it,” he replied, “It’s just- It’s just that it feels so empty in that bed without her.” Gillian reached over and placed a hand on her husband’s arm. There was a subtle curl to his lips trying to become a smile; it was almost as if he felt a warm hand on his arm.

“What are you smiling about?” Claudia asked as a smile started form on her own face.

“I’m not sure,” he chuckled to himself as he took his pillow and blanket into the bedroom that he hadn’t been in for the past four days.