Her voice calling through the letterbox jerks my eyes wide open. “Calla,” I whisper out loud. She is the one personwho understands. I drag myself out of bed, pulling on my thick fleece dressing gown as I thud down the stairs.
To the side of our wooden door are two panes of frosted glass, and a blurred version of Calla’s face is pressed against it.
I ignore the pile of letters trapped underneath the door as I struggle to open it. Who is sending me so much crap at a time like this?
Concerned, glassy eyes meet mine. “There you are.” She looks down at the stack of envelopes on the floor, then her lips purse as she tilts her head to one side. My tears spill uncontrollably at the sight of my best friend.
Calla pushes her way through, and as soon as she’s inside, I fall into her arms, resting my head against her shoulder. She smooths my hair at the back of my head. “I'm here now. Don’t worry.”
Gently, Calla guides me back inside the house and settles me on the sofa. Once she’s cleared the stack of letters from my door, she takes a seat beside me, holding my hand in hers.
“You have a lot of cards to open.”
I close my eyes at the thought. “Why do people send cards when someone dies? The last thing I need is everyone telling me how sorry they are.”
“Your friends want you to know they’re thinking of you.” Her reply only makes the lump at the back of my throat harder to swallow. “We can’t keep doing this, Angie. I'm worried sick about you. Please, come and stay with us.”
I sigh out loud and look around the room. How can I make her understand I need to be here with his clothes in the wardrobe, his aftershave in the bathroom, and the last music he listened to on Spotify, blasting from his custom speakers? Everything he ever did has an imprint in this house and,although we only rent it, there is so much of him in every single room. I don’t want to be anywhere else.
It’s a shame. We were all set to move before he died, but the house we planned to buy fell through just a few days ago. In a way, it was a blessing in disguise. Scott was the one with all the vision. He was an amazing carpenter and wanted to strip the place bare and start again. I’m not sure I even liked the new house, but I knew he would have turned it into the perfect home for us. “For now, all I have left of Scott is here. This house is where I’m closest to him.”
Calla places a supportive hand over mine. “I understand, I do. I loved him too. But I also love you and I’m concerned that being alone with your thoughts is not good for you or the baby.”
Her words strike right in my heart. I am the worst kind of person. Scott left me with the most precious gift, but all I can focus on is getting through each day. I can’t think about which vitamins to take or hospital appointments.
“Angie?”
I shake my head, bringing my attention back to Calla. “I’m sorry. You must think I'm being difficult, but I promise I’m not. You have Ash off his feet, Zoe to take care of, and you’re also pregnant. I can’t add to the strain already on you.”
“If you came to me, it would relieve some of that strain. I would stop worrying and could take care of everyone. Liz is around to help, and the boys from the band. Tommy’s been asking after you.”
“That’s kind, but I don’t need anyone else.” The truth is, I’m not sure I can cope with everyday life going on around me when I’m not ready. At this point, I don’t know what normal looks like for me.
“When was the last time you ate?”
“I’m not sure.” I can’t answer that question. My memory is non-existent on the subject of food.
“You've lost a lot of weight. You need to eat properly.”
“I won’t go hungry, Cal. I can eat later.” My freezer is full of homemade shepherd’s pies and soups dropped in by friends. It’s kind of them to care, but I have no appetite at all.
Calla’s hand brushes back and forth over mine. “How about I do you a deal? Come back with me for the night and I’ll make you some dinner.”
“How is that a deal?”
“Because I said it is.” She smiles, although it’s sorrowful.
“But I’m not hungry.” The very thought of food brings the acid taste of bile to my mouth.
Her voice cracks. “I need you to keep trying, Angie. Please. Scott wouldn't want this for you.”
Tears burst from my eyes, along with a sob I can’t contain. “How am I meant to carry on without him, Cal? I can't see a way past this.”
Calla shifts herself close and holds me. “Shh,” she soothes. “The future is too big to think about right now. I’m only asking you to stay with us for a night and have dinner. Nothing more. Do you think you can do that?” She passes me a tissue from the box on the table. For a few seconds, I lose myself in thoughts related to nothing and everything, then I turn towards Calla. She has tears running down her cheeks. I’m so engulfed in my grief that it’s easy to forget she’s grieving too.
Taking the tissue from her hand, I wipe away her tears before my own and her sorrowful smile returns.
“I'm happy you’re here,” I tell her. “But I don’t have the strength for anything much. The pain inside won’t let up, and I’m not the most sociable at the moment. I was never meant to live without him, Cal. I’m not sure I can do it.”
