The Meridians

One

You stare out the window, watching the rain pour down on outside world. Normally, you would have loved to be out in the rain collecting water to greet your husband with a splash. Your eyes start to water as you envision him walking through the doorway. He would expect a kiss and a warm meal, but instead, received a face full of rainwater. You would laugh as he seethed and then started to chase you around the house trying to envelope you in a hug. The two of you would run until he caught you, which normally took minutes of cunning and planning. Then he would pick you up and press your dry clothes against his wet ones, while carrying you to the bedroom. You would forget about dinner and he would forget about asking you to make it. It was always like this when he came back from business trips.

When the two of you finished your romantic romp, you would order take-out. Normally, pizza though he really did not care for it, it was still quicker than everything else. Once you hung up with the pizzeria, you put on your favorite shirt from his dresser as he flipped through channels. You'd climb into bed and cuddle while he tried to fight off sleep. He would always lose, so you'd get the pizza half-dressed and smile coyly as the delivery guy ogling you. After paying and closing the door, you would take the pizza to the kitchen to set it on the counter.

"Dagen!" You would yell after shoving a piece of pizza in your mouth. "Pizza!"

You would watch him emerge from the bedroom his dark hair messy and his greyish-blue eyes puffy and swollen from sleep. He'd devour over half the box while frowning as you cut yours with a fork and knife. This would lead the two of you to argue about which was the correct way to eat pizza. Which normally ended with him making a smart-ass comment about how he would never take you to Italy. To which you would reply that you could take yourself to Italy if you wanted to. He would frown and try to make it up to you by getting handsy again. You would swat at him and tell him no, but he would pout and tell you that he missed you. To this you would sigh and tell him that you wanted to finish your pizza, he would wait patiently until you got to the very last bite of your very last slice. When you finished he would grab your hand and drag you back upstairs to the bedroom. When he finally tired himself out you would go to sleep until the morning.

But Dagen wasn't coming home tonight, or any other night. You look down at the letter crushed by your clammy hands. It told you that Dagen had died in a car crash while he was out of the country on one of his business trips. The Embassy had sent back his suitcase after a while of trying to figure out whether he was a United States citizen or an Irish citizen. After weeks of stress, you finally had his belongings and his wedding ring. A large silver band, that he insisted on having because of his dislike for gold. You can remember the light shine in his eyes when you asked him why you also remember the two-hour speech that followed. That was one of the things that drove you crazy but made you love him more than anything, his ability to have an explanation about anything.

"Mrs. Meridian?" The lawyer, who you hired to help you get your husbands possessions back, clears his throat as your fingers trace over the engraving inside. It reads: Even in Death. If only you knew.

"When can I bury my husband?" You say numbly, you don't dare risk looking up at him and showing him that you are falling apart. What person would not fall apart if they were reminded that their world had just been snatched from them?

"We can'--" You snap your head up, revealing your puffy eyes. He stops talking and swallows hard, trying to think of a way to make you understand.