February, 2019
Anastasia glanced at the clock. Already 10:42, the light streaming wayward rays across her desk. She’d spent most of the morning daydreaming about the early years, first moving after university, to when Cassie was born.
She smiled at the image of Bradley sneaking in to be with her after the birth even though such things were verboten in 1971. He’d managed to caress Cassie’s wrinkled belly and kiss Anastasia on the mouth before the horrified nurse shooed him out of the room and back to the waiting area.
Outside, the snow continued to fall. Silent, frozen tears accumulating a thick blanket that would shroud everything in more silence. Why had she agreed to write this infernal book?
Ah, right. At the time, she’d thought about how this volume would finally complete the Relpek trilogy. Go out with a splash, so to speak. My One would become her magnum opus, her spectacular exit: not only the final book in her trilogy but also the last book she wrote before retirement. An almost-50 year career felt like more than enough at the time, and she and Bradley had planned to travel the globe, spend more time together, revel in each other’s company and the many excessive spoils of her work.
She snapped to attention at the sounds of her stomach growling. How had the entire morning escaped her? She hadn’t written a single new word, lost in her own reveries.
In the beginning, when she’d been so bereft that she could barely get out of bed, the lack of writing didn’t alarm her--much. But as the days turned to weeks, that low grumbling in the back of her mind became a full-on, panicked screech: The deadline! Remember that contract you signed, Anastasia, right before Bradley took sick? Now you have to deliver on that promise! She had already worked out the basic outline and the main characters, as well as some world-building around the home planet and the life of the Sbarac below the ocean.
At the time, it all seemed perfectly clear, a fresh beginning. She imagined she’d knock off the book in a few months.
But now, glancing out the window, everything felt depleted. She couldn’t imagine mustering enough energy even to boil the kettle for tea. She could foresee nothing new being born from her imagination.
Instead, she spent countless hours during each day reviewing the past: how she and Bradley met, that day by chance in the quad, both of them eating a packed lunch while stealing a few moments between classes in the sunshine.
She had glanced over at Bradley’s lunchbox, one of those square, childhood holdovers with images of Captain Kirk and Spock on the cover, which made her giggle. She took in Bradley’s slapped-together salami and butter sandwich on Wonder bread, laughed and pronounced his mother unfit to feed her son. As she’d suspected, he admitted to having made it himself, as he lived alone and never had time in the mornings to prepare lunch, what with his crazy schedule in the faculty of Engineering. She was smitten, right then and there. Within a month, they were living together.
The phone rang. She glanced at the call display and picked it up.
“What I did was shameful,” she said, before Cassie could even say hello.
“Mom? What are you talking about?”
“That light bulb. I’m sure I could have fixed it myself.”
Cassie sighed. “I didn’t mind changing it for you. Actually, I’m pretty sure you’re too short now to reach the ceiling, anyway.”
Anastasia laughed. “I suppose you’re right. And I so appreciate that you did that, when all you expected was a relaxing lunch. You’re a dear, really. But I was talking about another time, with your father.”
“I don’t think I--”
“Oh, I must not have told you about that one. It was when I was pregnant and working on The Fires of Argnon. I was almost done with the manuscript and it was right before deadline. Well, you know how I get before a deadline.”
“Not really, Mom.”
“Right. Of course not. Well, I’m frantic. I used to be frantic, at least. And with the pregnancy, and all. . . well, the bulb burnt out and I just couldn’t face it. I called your father and he came home to change it for me.”
“That seems pretty normal for you two,” Cassie said.
“Yes, you’d think.” Now there were two little grey birds on the windowsill, pecking at something on the ledge, hidden under the snow. Anastasia couldn’t see what. “But he was in Boston at the time.”
“And you still lived in Wrentham?” Yes, now Cassie was getting the picture.
“Oh, I’m not proud of it, believe me. Two hours each way to change a light bulb. I told you it was shameful.”
There was a momentary silence on the other end. “Mom, please don’t beat yourself up about it. You know, Dad never did anything he didn’t want to do. It was his choice to go home that day.”
“That’s very sweet of you to say, Cass.” What were they doing now? One seemed intent on picking up a snow-covered leaf, perhaps to build a nest?
“But really, I did kind of boss him around. And your father was just the sweetest man on earth, so of course he’d never say no to me. Now I wonder how much I took advantage of that sweet, good nature. . . “
“Mom, I think you could use a break,” Cassie said.
“You might be right,” Anastasia said. “I was just sitting here thinking about how your father and I never missed a winter away. All this snow! I’m not quite sure how to handle it.”
“You’re not used to winter any more.”
“Yes. I think I just need a change of scenery,” Anastasia said. She might drive over to the mall this afternoon, or see if that nice Lucy from down the hall was available for tea.
“That’s a great idea, Mom! You know, the timeshare is just sitting there, waiting for you.” Her voice dipped lower, to what Anastasia called her “Mama Cass voice.” She used it when she assumed her “take care of Mom” role.
“Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly manage all by myself--”
“Mom, I’m serious. I know how much you love spending time in Florida.”
She and Bradley had spent every winter away, the previous twelve at that condo. But she hadn’t been able to even entertain the idea since his death. Cassie and Joel had a unit there, too, which Anastasia had gifted them for their first anniversary after they got back together.
“Well, you’d only be by yourself for a month, until Joel and I can come over. It would be perfect right now. It’s quiet, it’s warm, you’ve got every amenity you can think of.” She paused.. “And it’s WARM.”
When Anastasia remained silent, she heightened her pitch.
“Think about a whole month on your own to write before we got there to join you. Seriously, Mum. I bet you’ll get your mojo back in no time there. At the very least, you’ll relax and get away from the cold.”
Anastasia didn’t have the heart to tell her that it wouldn’t matter. No matter where she went, she’d feel the void of Bradley’s loss. That gnawing sensation in her stomach never left her, and distracted her endlessly from the words on the page.
You’ll never understand, she thought. He was more than my husband. He was my soulmate, my muse, my bedrock. He’s what kept me focused, what kept me going, what kept me wanting to continue. Now all I do is live life alone. I eat alone. I sleep alone. I move through this empty home alone. You have Joel. You don’t get it.
“Mom, I know it’s really hard for you right now. But I honestly think that a bit of time in a completely different environment would do you a world of good. Plus, it’s easier to get around there. . . at least you’d be in a warm climate. . . “ She drifted off. Her voice had already melted into the background like the music in a movie, susurration without any meaning.
She glanced out at the vast expanse of white outside the window. The birds had flown off. Now there was nothing but snow, blanketing the hillside and dusting the treetops. White, as far as the eye could see.
“The Chinese wear white to funerals, you know,” she mused.
“What? Really? Okay, sure.” '
Anastasia could tell that Cass was growing impatient.
“But how about it?”
That daughter of hers could be a real pain sometimes. “All right, dear, fine,” Anastasia said. “If it will make you happy, I’ll go.”
“Settled! I’ll talk to Joel and make the arrangements.”
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As much as I always love to read your things, Ricki, I will not read these serializations.
Why?
Because I want to read the WHOLE THING all at once. I am really excited for your endeavor and I pray you keep at it. Godspeed.
Ok, so I read a little, like a little bite of cake. Wonderful.