My Blossoming Redemption

THIRTY-FIVE

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A    W E E K    L A T E R

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Ten days.

I remember when I applied for the divorce in the days before Joel died that it could take up to ten days for them to get back to me. That's been and gone now they've been informed of his death.

Ten days is a week and a half. A drop in the ocean in terms of time, yet it's felt so long. Researching widow's benefits, how to update the mortgage, trying to contact Monica and Summer about his funeral... it's all rolled into one, long day.

Except it hasn't. It's been a lonely ten days. Though Nick and I have been in contact via calls and messages, we haven't seen each other since the day Joel died. He's been working, and I've been trying to deal with this as I should be. I don't know whether he thinks I need time to grieve or whether he's trying to cool things off. A part of my brain thinks he's probably backing off because he doesn't want the grieving widow as a partner, but I know him better than that after three months.

I stare at my phone when it buzzes: 'Have you told your parents yet?' Nick asks.

'No, they haven't been in contact though. I probably should. Are you busy tonight?'

I wait approximately eight minutes for his reply: 'Aspen... I want you to have time to grieve. Are you ready?'

I furrow my brow and phone him instead.

"Hey."

"Am I ready for what? Nick... you've been avoiding me for ten days."

"Aspen, I've been working," he replies. "I also think you need space. Your husband died."

I sigh. "I'm fine. What about comfort? Anyway, I'm... recovered."

"The fact that you've said it like that makes me think you aren't."

I stare at the clock as it ticks in the same place despite telling the time. It means it needs a new battery soon – Joel was usually the one to lift it off the wall and insert the new battery. If only life's problems could be solved with a simple change of battery – no one would die, just come back to life with a new lease of life for another few years. If only life were as simple as a clock – always going in the same direction, only twice a year would things be different when you go forward or back one hour.

Except life sucks. Life is always changing, never staying the same. It's the polar opposite of a clock.

"Nick, I need you."

The other thing that has not stopped crossing my mind in the past ten days is the number of times I've stared at the ream of texts from my mother and the number of bible verses I've been thinking about. The day Monica told me to essentially get a divorce because I didn't believe, and the day that Nick made me realise I didn't believe, were the two days that stopped me from turning into my mother.