Picking up the Pieces

Chapter Two

This story is dedicated to my friend, Pam, who recently lost her husband to cancer. She's a wonderful friend with a beautiful soul who didn't deserve losing her best friend to such a devastating and deadly disease. I love you, girl.

Not mine...Just sayin...

Chapter Two

We never made it to the barbeque at my parents' house. Alice called them, explaining my emotional breakdown. It was irrational. I knew this, but I couldn't pull myself together. Alice and my new friend, Rose, were understanding as they led me out to Alice's Lexus. Unfortunately, the barbeque was rescheduled for a later date. Damn it. Alice drove me back to the house with Rose in tow. She said we were having a girl's night since my kids were staying with Grandma and Grandpa.

Back at my tiny house, Alice linked her arm with mine. "Go upstairs, Bella and put on something comfy," Alice said, pushing me toward the stairs. "I know you're dying in that dress."

It was a gorgeous dress, very pretty, flowery and flowy, accenting my best features but it wasn't me. Not anymore. I was the Widow Black. I should be wearing black, not flowers. I nodded sadly, agreeing with her statement and dragged my weary body up to my gorgeous bedroom. My breath caught when I looked at the bed. I hated that bed. I will always hate that bed. It's even a new bed. I had to replace the mattress after Jake died because he had gotten so sick on it from the chemo. It smelled like vomit and death. I also figured if it was a new bed, I'd be able to sleep in it. Not so much ...

Narrowing my eyes and cursing the foreboding pile of springs and padding also known as my mattress, I grabbed a pair ofyoga pants and one of Jake's hoodies. Walking into the bathroom, I scrubbed my face and slid on my glasses. I didn't need to wear them every day at every moment, but when I was tired or emotional, I wore them. It prevented me from having headaches. I could feel a nasty headache brewing and using the glasses would hopefully quell the nastiness in my noggin. I had contacts but hadn't put them in since the last date I went out on with Jake.

Our tenth anniversary.

Just before he was diagnosed. Tears filled my eyes and I whimpered quietly.

"Bella, do you want white or red sangria?" Alice called up to me, breaking my reverie.

"White please," I replied, my voice quaking. With a huff, I walked back to the bedroom scowling at the bed before I slipped on a pair of thick socks. When I got downstairs, Alice and Rose had made themselves comfortable in my kitchen. A large pitcher of sangria was on the counter along with some fancy cheese, pepperoni and crackers. Alice was in a pair of short shorts and a tank top while Rose was in a pair of yoga capri pants with a loose-fitting t-shirt. Her hair was pinned up in a loose but messy knot at the top of her head. "Where did you find the clothes?" I asked.

"I had something packed. I always keep a gym bag in my car and yes, the clothes are clean," Alice said, handing me a filled wine glass. "Rose just borrowed something of mine."

"These are supposed to be pants," Rose quipped, indicating to the capris she was wearing. Looking at Alice and Rose, there was easily a foot difference between the two. Rose was close to six feet tall while Alice was just shy of five feet.

We took our sangria, along with the massive pitcher of booze and the cheese and crackers, into the living room. I curled up on my couch/bed while Alice sat next to me and Rose cuddled on the chair opposite. "While you were changing, I told Rose a little bit about why you broke down," Alice said quietly.

I sneered at her. I loved Alice. Don't get me wrong, but she had a propensity to stick her nose in other people's business when it truly wasn't warranted. If I wanted Rose to know about my sucky life, I would have told her on my own. "Don't give her shit, Bella. I just asked why you started crying. I thought you looked smoking hot but then you started bawling. I was confused. I'm sorry about your loss," she frowned.