053:

This paper floated to the ground out of lifeless hands. Abuse? No. Neglect, yes. Confusion? Yes. Love? I don't know, is it a true marriage? No. Do we have a common goal? No. Was it a mistake? Yes.

But do I want it to end?

Ryan! Ryan! What's wrong with us? Why did you marry me? Why did you convince me it was right? And then.... This?

It's not right. It's all wrong! I feel it. I feel something is wrong. Are you holding a grudge against me? Are you getting revenge against me? Are you just being stupid? This isn't the you I remember. You were more attentive even two weeks ago. Two weeks ago when I wasn't all wrapped up in a wedding ring.

She stared at her new ring and pulled it off her finger and set it on the night stand, and stared at it some more. What more was there? She felt more confused than ever.

*****

The pier was gray shrouded in fog, colder than it usually was at this time of year and a slight, very slight breeze wafted her pony tail now and then. Melia wrapped herself in her long black and gray sweater, and folded her arms across her belly. Where was he?

She actually didn't want time to think about herself. Her own problems were annoying and depressing to her. His problems maybe she could relate to, be there for him. Listen if he needed someone....

It wasn't a long wait, and she kept her mind perfectly blank watching the undulations of the ocean. He came up beside her. Melia turned her face to his, and he stared straight ahead, completely engrossed in his own thoughts.

Melia remembered that morning after Jared had died. She'd walked back to the gazebo, it was dawn, she hadn't put Hannah down at all, and her arms ached. Hannah had cried for an hour, and then fallen into a disgruntled sleep. Melia simply paced the floor with her while her parents and his made arrangements.

Her mind had been foggy, trying to hold onto Jared, she knew. For her, he had still been there, floating around the atmosphere-- as confused as her at this new separation, one where picking up a phone wasn't possible. She hadn't talked to anyone, not even Hannah. Robert's silence she could relate to.

So she stood there, aware of his proximity, the way he leaned against the railing of the pier, even though it was wet and cold. She thought about Jared's funeral. She didn't recall it, had told herself that morning she wanted to record the whole thing, had felt that remembering every word was tantamount, and important. Not. She didn't record it, didn't remember it, and didn't care. It wasn't Jared, and he wasn't there.

The graveside was a little more poignant, as he had designated a cemetery on his property before he died and even laid out the plot. So, that part she had watched in dry-eyed submission. It still wasn't Jared. She felt rebellious-- toward everybody even Jared. A back hoe? Really?

Her parents had urged her to leave after the service. She hadn't. She'd literally been the last one to leave, hours after the service. She'd simply stood there. Until Megan had come. Then some spark of life had returned to her.

That was the ticket, she realized. Robert hadn't yet felt that returning spark of life. For him, he was still with Karen May. His mind had followed her, his heart had flown. Perhaps being there with her right now was his mind and heart's way of returning to earth, grounding himself.

She shifted her weight, and he instantly turned to look at her. "Cold?"

Her head jerked from side to side.

He nodded imperceptibly and then went back to staring out to sea, but she'd felt his awareness turn to her.

"I think their spirit gets far enough away from earth that we can't follow." She said softly, not looking at him.

His lips twitched, the mustache quivered and a tick went off in his cheek.

"You think her spirit just floats up to heaven?"

"No-- I don't know. I just know that after Jared's funeral I didn't want to speak to anyone, I wanted to keep him close to me."

"And there came a point where you couldn't feel him anymore?"

She let her head fall forward. Yes, that had been it. She hadn't been able to feel him anymore, almost like he had finally reached a point where he had to go--- had to embrace his new existence-- literally couldn't be there for her anymore.

Robert sighed heavily, leaning into her side. "That is exactly what has happened."

Melia felt that throat choking sensation hit her hard. Like a knife.

Robert didn't look at her. "She was here... even after, she was here. I felt her. I knew where she was with a sixth sense I hadn't known existed. Like her presence was aware of me, aware of everything, listening, comforting, watching..."

He shifted his weight and pushed into her even closer, his heavily muscled arm, encased in a loose brown jacket forced its way under hers, gripping the railing with white knuckles. "And then-- she just drifted, slowly, as if her interest had been pricked by some strange butterfly or fish... or I don't know... something other than me... like those times we hiked and she would be talking and then she'd stop suddenly and see something she wanted to investigate, and her curiosity got the best of her, and she'd stop mid-sentence and--- just go---"

Melia nodded, choked up, and Robert squeezed her arm, his forearm now cuddled against her and the baby. They stood, sharing, feeling--- that spark of life returning, the bewilderment still there--- but at bay.

And so they stood till her feet ached, her back burned and her neck and legs trembled. And she would have forced herself to stand there longer if he'd needed her. Nothing else was said. Nothing else could be said. The rest wasn't comprehensible-- it was just there.

*******