“Beats me.” I wasn’t about to admit that I’d ignored emails from Ali’s accounting firm requesting that I mail his computer back. The laptop was such an integral part of Ali’s life. Returning it felt like losing another piece of him.
“I can’t believe the company sent someone to pick it up in person,” she said.
“They emailed a label for me to send the laptop back, but this colleague of Ali’s offered.” I neglected to mention that the firm probably sent the man over to force the issue, since it took me weeks to respond to their emails.
Lulu retreated back to the kitchen just before I answered the door. It was my first time meeting Jake Barnes in person, but I felt like I knew him. He was a work friend Ali had often mentioned, and theyoccasionally golfed together. Jake’s kids were younger than ours, and, over the years, Ali enjoyed passing several of Adam and Ayla’s hand-me-down bikes, scooters, and skateboards to the Barnes children.
“You really didn’t have to come all the way out here.” I reluctantly handed him the laptop, swallowing against the ache in my throat, trying not to think of the transfer as another erasure.
“It’s no problem.” Jake was physically fit and balding on top, with a band of dark hair curving around the sides. His manner was pleasant, but his watery blue gaze was watchful in a way I found a little unnerving. “I live pretty close by.”
We chatted for a few minutes. “We really miss Ali around the office,” he told me. “He was always so kind, always asked after the kids.”
“I hope they’re enjoying the bikes.”
“Very much so.” He smiled, but I still felt scrutinized. Maybe he wanted to assess whether I seemed sad enough for a widow. Or Ali had talked about me over the years and now Jake was finally able to sync what he’d heard with the person standing before him.
“Well, I’d better get going,” he said after a brief pause. “Do you happen to have the mail label for the computer? The firm likes to check all that stuff back in.”
“Of course. I left it in Ali’s office.” I ran upstairs to retrieve the label. I could still feel Ali’s presence in the guest bedroom where he’d set up his desk. Going in there made me feel closer to him.
“Thanks,” Jake said when I handed over the label, his gaze briefly flitting to the staircase behind me in the foyer. He shifted Ali’s computer to the other hand. “Listen, if there’s anything else you need to facilitate through the firm, I’d be happy to be your liaison.”
I couldn’t imagine what business I had left with Ali’s firm. Right after the funeral, there’d been that swirl of documents and payouts from the company.
“I can give you my number,” Jake offered. “Only if you’d like.”
My first instinct was to say no. The information was obviously in Ali’s phone, which the police returned to me after the accident, along with hiswallet, wristwatch, and wedding band. It felt strange and surreal for all his personal effects to be here after he ... poof! ... vanished off the face of the planet.
“It’s a good reminder that you take nothing from this world but your good deeds,” my sister-in-law Julia had reminded me. Ali’s younger sister had surprised her family when she joined the Muslim Club in high school, becoming so devout that she took to wearing a headscarf, the only woman in her immediate family to do so. Both of our families were more culturally Muslim, following many of the conservative social customs while not being very religious. Julia was a year older than me and one of the best people I knew.
But now, rather than go through Ali’s phone again—and experience the unwelcome wash of grief that would undoubtedly accompany that walk down memory lane—I exchanged mobile numbers with Jake and promised to call if I needed anything.
“And you can always reach me at the firm.” He provided that information as well. I recognized the familiar number, except that Jake’s extension was different. My chest felt sore as I punched the digits into my phone. I used to call Ali’s line all the time. He often silenced his mobile at the office so his meetings wouldn’t be interrupted. Even though I hadn’t dialed the number in months, the thought that I’d never call Ali at work again made my throat swell.
“Ali had a whole other life,” I remarked to my sister as I watched Jake walk back to his car.
Lulu, who’d stayed out of sight in the kitchen, came over to look out the window with me. “What do you mean?”
“All spouses do. Think about it. Ali spent a third of each day at work.” We made our way back to the kitchen. “He was at the firm for ten years. He had full friendships with people I’ve never met. Look at Jake; he’s a complete stranger to me.”
“Is that guy a good friend of Ali’s ... um ... was he a good friend?” It still didn’t come naturally to any of us to refer to Ali in the past tense.
“Ali talked about him sometimes, stories about his kids’ sports activities. One of them is supposedly a lacrosse prodigy.”
“Was he at the funeral?”
“Jake? I’m pretty sure I saw him there.” Even though the entire day was a blur, I vaguely remembered Jake extending his condolences to me and the children. We buried Ali so quickly—the day after he died, in accordance with Muslim tradition—that many of his colleagues didn’t find out about the funeral until it was over. Some had been away on their summer vacations.
“I’ve got to go.” Lulu grabbed her tote. “It’s time to pick up the kids.” My sister had three girls, all much younger than my Ayla and Adam.
I stared at the mortgage notice glaring up at me from the counter. “I guess I have to call the bank.”
“They won’t bite.” She dug her keys out of her bag. “You’ll feel much better once you’ve cleared up any confusion.”
After she left, I forced myself to dial the bank’s customer service number. It took effort. I resented having everything dumped in my lap. It wasn’t logical, but handling tasks that Ali used to take care of was like repeatedly getting hit over the head. A reminder that he was really gone, his absence permanent.
“Your husband has been dead forhowlong?” the bank representative asked in a way that reminded me of a doctor with a terrible bedside manner. “And it took you this long to notify us?”
