It was early November and multi-hued fallen leaves lay strewn and clumped in mounds, leaving their homes nearly barren, giving the skeletal trees the appearance of reaching to the sky as if petrified in prayer at the moment of death. One might even say it seemed as if the trees themselves were weeping, their tears all around them, missing him…
Jenna awoke as the sun was rising, vainly attempting to filter through the tightly shut girder that thwarted its efforts. Yet the power of that giver of life and familiar warmth could not be contained, a spot here and there seeping into the dark room.
There was a strange, yet continual feeling of mixed dread, longing, and anxiousness, accented by minimal contentment, all roiling in the pit of her stomach, rippling outward to the tips of her extremities and seeming to emanate into the room beyond. It had been one month and three days since her world had come crashing down. Even today she was picking up the pieces — which now, in part, entailed picking herself up and out of bed each morning.
It had gotten better, bit-by-bit and day-by-day. But as she went about the semblance of her old morning routine, she was still constantly reminded. Opening the closet, all his clothes were neatly hanging, untouched in the past month — save, of course, that long white shirt of his that she had begun sleeping in every night. His towel — clean and untouched — hung on the rack in the bathroom, accompanied on the counter by his toothbrush, hair gel, and other articles. Jenna couldn’t bring herself to remove these items, for if she did, she would be admitting to herself that he was really gone. She spit out her mouthwash and replaced her toothbrush in its holder next to his, trying to ignore the myriad things he had left behind.
It was like that throughout the apartment — pictures in frames developing a thin layer of dust; the coffee table they had painted all sorts of wild colors, cluttered, as always, with papers and files from work; and of course there was his smell. Even in all that time, he lingered there, begging her to hold onto him.
All these things, too, she pushed out of her mind, consciously fighting the pain that threatened to cut her down and all that she had meagerly accomplished since he had left her.
Her things gathered, Jenna slipped a small silvery item on a thin chain into her pocket. It was the one thing she carried around everywhere she went. Then it was off to the bus since her car was still a wreck. She plugged her headphones in and the player started on Jewel’s “You Were Meant for Me”. She quickly changed it to something more upbeat and loud: Volbeat’s “Mirror and the Ripper”. It was background noise mostly, something to help take her mind off of things. Less than a block away from the bus stop, she noticed the monstrous vehicle pulling up. Early!’ She ran as fast as she could in her heels, nearly braking an ankle on the curb. ‘Stupid heels! I hate my job…’ Luckily, there was a line boarding, which bought Jenna just enough time to stumble before the open doors, a bus driver with a somber face glaring at her.
She gave a weak smile as she began proceeding down the narrow aisle flanked on either side by rows of seats. Jenna found her way to the back and sat down. At first she was so absorbed in her thoughts and background music (now the relaxed tones of John Mayer’s “Who Says”) that she failed to recognize a familiar face sitting across from her. When she noticed who it was, she froze, her heart pounding. Albany, her best friend’s sister, sat there, apparently unaware of Jenna’s presence, her nose deep in a book, as usual. She prayed she wouldn’t be noticed, prayed she wouldn’t have to bear further scrutiny for what had happened. ‘Not now, not yet…’ Albany had been graduating from college on that night, one month and three days ago. She was expecting her sister to show up, though they weren’t particularly close. When she found out what had happened, she had immediately blamed Jenna. She didn’t know if Albany felt any different after such a short period, but she strongly doubted it. As her stop came up, Jenna tried to sly away and out of the bus, but as she exited, she caught a glimpse of Albany, shocked, looking right at her. Jenna pushed Albany out of her mind — as she had so many other things that morning — and proceeded on her way.
She arrived at the bank just in time. The caress of a gentle, brisk breeze gave her a shiver that reminded her, on a fundamental level, of those days they used to walk along the trails in mid-winter when the heavier snows would begin to let up. As if transported to another time, she was there, walking hand-in-hand through the falling snow flakes that powdered them, causing him to make fun of how it made her hair look old but forever beautiful. She punched him and laughed, leaning in closer for warmth against the lilting wind. He had proposed to her there, on a day like that — a day like today — and she had wept with joy. She shook off the memories, brushing a tear aside, and opened the bank to the waiting patrons she had hardly noticed.
It had only been a week since she was able to return home from the hospital, and already she was back to work — her first day. She could still hear her boss chastising her on the phone:
“Jenna, you went through more in one night than most people experience over a period of years. You need time to recover. Why don’t you wait at least another month?”
“I know Perry, but please, I need to do this. Being alone all day… I can’t take it. Friend and family visits don’t really help, either. I need to get back into my old routine. I can’t keep feeling like this all the time.” She needed to find a source of strength, and Jenna hoped that getting things as close to normal as they had been would do just that. It was proving to not be so easy.
The day droned on and she tried to lose herself in her work. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a terribly busy day, which allowed Jenna to slip into a few reveries, but she would soon catch herself and begin helping any newly arrived customers. A few new accounts were opened, but as business picked up she was asked to switch to the teller lines. She did so promptly, and after several deposits and withdrawals, she ran into a ghost.
Mrs. Briant stood before her, her puffy red curls framing a round face of too much makeup and smelling of too much perfume and hairspray. Her cheap attire and knock-off Gucci bag rendered her air of superiority decidedly wanting. Jenna wanted nothing more than to run, every fiber of her being crying out in sorrowful anguish, anger, and hatred. She smiled.
“Hello Jenna,” Mrs. Briant’s droll, condescending voice bellowed. She had never liked Jenna, especially since her son had chosen her rather than the heiress to some family’s fortune. Mrs. Briant had wanted all her life to live in luxury, but her son had decided to follow his heart, not his mother’s wallet. Unsurprisingly, even after the accident Mrs. Briant’s tone toward Jenna hadn’t changed.
“Good day, Mrs. Briant. What can I help you with?” Externally Jenna managed to maintain her facade, but internally she played out an answer: ‘Bring back my son. It’s your fault he’s gone.’
Mrs. Briant made a deposit, eyeing her disdainfully the whole while. In the middle of the transaction, completely unprovoked, Mrs. Briant sarcastically prodded: “You know, it’s awful soon for you to be working. It’s only been a month since the deaths of my son and your best friend. I guess it’s easy to move on when you really just use people, like you used my son.” The end of her sentence was laced with venom and it dug into Jenna like a fatal snake bite.
Jenna couldn’t believe what she was hearing. ‘I used your son!? You’re the one who saw no more value in him than as a tool to exploit the riches of another family!’ As much as she wanted to retaliate, she had to maintain her professional behavior. From the self-satisfied smugness on Mrs. Briant’s face, Jenna could tell her own face betrayed more than she wanted it too.
At the end of the transaction, Jenna mustered every ounce of composure she could in order to bid her… former… fiancee’s mother goodbye, but Mrs. Briant saw it more fitting to indignantly turn and ignore her on the way out.
By now Jenna was completely overwhelmed. She asked Elizabeth to cover for her and ran into one of the small back rooms, shutting the door silently. A hand came up to stifle sobs as waves of emotion flowed through her and out her eyes. She leaned her back against the door and slowly slid down until she was crouched on the floor. Though she tried to minimize the sound, loud, sharp sobs lurched forth from the depths of her being. ‘Why!?’ She beseeched the ceiling, immobilized inside and out. She couldn’t take this anymore. He had left her alone in this world, and it really was her fault. Those tormenting images flooded her mind once more: the old, fat tree, the other car, the bridge… the water; all a blur to her afterward.
‘If only I had been more careful in that storm, both of them would still be here. And also…’ She glanced down at her stomach and tenderly placed a hand upon it, wondering, as she had so many times in the last month, what could have been. ‘What SHOULD have been…’ Anger briefly alighted her then left, replaced once more by a feeling of inertia.
Reaching a hand into her pocket, she pulled out the small silvery item. It was a locket, broken with one side missing. Jenna had decided to break it in half and bury one side with her lost love, so he would always have a piece of her. Within the remaining side was a picture of him, smiling as he held her waist tight, her stomach then just beginning to show. More waves of uninhibited suffering issued forth, bringing her back to that terrible day — which was all together not unlike today. No matter what she did, he was all around her and she felt she couldn’t escape. Or perhaps it was that she didn’t want to, though the pain of loss hounded her. Jenna sat there for a long while, immobile, clinging for dear life onto a broken locket, unable to free herself from the man who had captivated her soul.
Also posted on Medium (https://medium.com/@gostudent7676/one-month-gone-68047631bdc7)
