Closure

2

As the days droned on, Clara kept herself locked inside her house. She found it remarkable how differently things looked when she was alone. Without another person to share the space, the rooms seemed bigger, emptier, and somehow infinitely more cluttered all at once. She began to wonder why she and Robert had collected so much furniture when all they really needed was a single sofa and a table for sharing meals. All the other chairs and lamps and nightstands and tables just seemed pointless. Clara found herself wishing they had lived in a tiny flat with a tiny bed and nothing else. That way, they'd have hardly enough room to leave each other's arms.

Her bed seemed like an ocean. When she closed her eyes, she felt awash in a vast expanse of blankets and sheets. When she tossed restlessly, there was nobody there to nudge. When she stretched her legs, there was nobody to kick. When she ripped the blanket from the far edge of the bed, there was nobody to pull it back in the other direction. Each night, Clara spent hours lying on her side, staring at the empty space beside her and longing hopelessly to see Robert lying there when she awoke the next morning.

There was a knock at the door. The sound startled Clara who sat at the kitchen table, forcing herself to swallow a few bites of hot cereal. Startled by the unanticipated visitor, Clara lifted herself from her chair and staggered across the house toward the front door. Her legs were week and her joints ached with each step. She was thin and malnourished; she had hardly eaten in the days since Robert's funeral. Her hair was unkempt, and her cheeks looked sunken. She paused before reaching the door, taking a moment to smooth her hair and straighten the seams of her clothing. Drawing a deep breath, she opened the door.

Looking through the doorway, she didn't see her mother, she didn't hear the condolences of a friend or the falsely sympathetic local minister. In fact, there was nobody there at all. Clara peered through the doorway, past an empty stoop and out toward the empty street. For a moment, she thought the noise was some sort of phantom. Perhaps a trick played on her by her own foggy mind. Then, just as she was about to close the door, she looked down and discovered a bouquet of flowers lying at her doorstep. They were lilies, a tad wilted and yellowing. A card was tucked inside the bouquet which read,

Though the lost can never return, they do not need to remain absent.

Eager to meet you both,

Madam Fenix

There was also an address written on the card which Clara recognized as being on the other side of town. She held the card in her hand for a long time. Her eyes scanned each word repeatedly as her mind combed through the cryptic message.

Eager to meet you both. She wondered what that could mean. Surely you both must refer to she and Robert. And who is this, Madam Fenix person? She had never met a person named Fenix, nor did she know of anyone who referred to themselves as Madam. Also, who sends lilies as a gift of condolence? Although, they were beautiful, so bright and lively.

Clara carried the bouquet and the card inside. She tossed the card onto the kitchen counter while she rummaged through the cupboards for a vase. Once she found one, she filled the vase with water, stuffed the flowers inside and placed the arrangement in the center of the kitchen table. She stepped back to admire them. Their cheery, white pedals and bright green stems had a way of brightening the room, as though their presence made the pale sunlight seeping through the windows shine a little brighter.

Madam, Clara thought. Madam. Madam. Who calls themselves Madam?

She figured baronesses were the only ones who referred to themselves as Madam, and Clara didn't know any of those. Unsure, she shrugged her shoulders and decided it didn't matter. Besides, whoever left her the flowers didn't bother to wait for Clara to answer the door. For all she knew, Madam Fenix was an estranged friend of her mother. Tragedy has a funny way of bringing distant acquaintances out of the woodwork, but only for a moment. Soon someone else's husband will die, and Madam Fenix will shift her attention to them, never to think of Clara or Robert again.