Being: A Collection of Short Stories

A Story of Life

I couldn't feel my face for a long time after. I couldn't hear anything. I couldn't keep track of time. I'm not sure how long I stared ahead of me, seeing nothing. I didn't shower or eat. There was nobody to make sure I took care of myself.

It's like I went to bed one day and didn't wake up. But I knew I was awake. There was a feeling in my chest, buried under all the nothing.

The love of my life died. He left me.

I'm not sure how long I've been laying in our bed. The bed we shared for so many years. I think I'm hugging his pillow, trying to remember him. He always smelled like coconut and hair gel.

Our home used to be filled with his laughter. We used to cuddle on the porch swing, trying to remember our lives from decades ago, or just people watching. At night we'd hold hands as we fell asleep.

Ten years ago was when we decided we were too old to keep traveling. We bought a home in a small town where everyone knew each other. We didn't stay very long, because almost everyone there was racist. We settled down in a bigger town where our relationship was approved of.

Twenty-five years ago, we retired and wanted to travel the world together. We've been to six continents and more countries than I can remember. We've eaten in hundreds of diners, slept in hundreds of hotels and motels, and been to every state fair. We've ridden camels and elephants, pet tigers and lions, and climbed as tall as a giraffe. We have memories from all over the world. Many of them still live around the house.

Fifty years ago I became a doctor. I didn't think I could actually do it, but he was right there beside me every step of the way. He encouraged me when I thought it impossible. He stayed up late many nights helping me study. He massaged my hands when they cramped from writing too much.

Our only child passed away fifty-three years ago. She was hit by a car while on her bike. We never tried for children again.

Sixty-two years ago we got married. We had a small ceremony because I was always trying to save money. Most of our family came, and all of our friends. Our best friend acted as priest, and we hand wrote our vows. It felt like we were the only two in the universe. After we were pronounced husband and wife, I wanted to be alone with him. But our parents insisted on a reception. We couldn't focus on anything but each other. My mother caught the bouquet and tried to give it to my cousin. We honeymooned in Italy for two weeks, spending the first week by ourselves.

Sixty-three years ago, he became a police officer. I never approved of his occupation, but I supported him nevertheless. I was constantly worried about what might happen to him. Many dangerous situations occurred, but he came out without too many injuries. He always looked so handsome in his uniform. There's still a picture of him sitting on the end table in the living room.

Sixty-six years ago we got our first apartment together. I was in college with my first job while he was in police training. We fought more than usual, but we'd always butted heads over silly things. He proposed to me one weekend when we came back from the beach. He said he would've done it at the beach, but he didn't want all the attention. I started to cry before I could say yes.

Sixty-nine years ago we went to senior prom together. He looked so stunning in his tux. I was wearing a long deep purple dress that was originally too long for me. We took over one hundred pictures together and you could tell how ecstatic we were in every one. The dance went by too fast and we couldn't go to any after parties because he had strict parents.

We first met seventy-three years ago; in our eighth grade math class. We both had a crush on each other but were too shy to say anything. We didn't talk at all in ninth grade. We were both in other relationships. In tenth grade my friends kept telling him that I liked him, and the rest is history.

In the distance I could hear sirens, then a pounding on the door. I wanted to answer it but I couldn't move anything. There was a crash and all the lights came on. I wanted to say something but my mouth wouldn't move.

"Mrs. Warren?!"

Somebody came into view but I couldn't focus. They grabbed my wrist and I couldn't push them away.

"There's barely any pulse, get her in the ambulance!"

But I didn't want to leave. This was the only place I could remember him. I was lifted from the bed.

"She hadn't left her house in a couple days. Some of us should've checked on her, I feel so guilty. Her husband just died I-"

"It's alright, we've got her now."

I wanted to shout at them to leave me be. I wanted to be near him.

They said something else but I couldn't hear very well. I couldn't see anything any longer.

Someone was crying.

Someone was waiting for me.

He held out his hand.

I hadn't lost him after all.