Yesterday’s letter was a little different. It was the first time since the pancake fiasco that Natalie made an actual request in her letter, instead of narration with wishes of kisses and cuddles to the kids at the end.
DAY 6
Luke,
If I actually decided to give you these letters, then I’ve only been gone for a week or so. I’ve never been through this losing a parent thing, at least not as a child. You know more about that kind of grief than I do. But remember, our kids have something you didn’t—a caring father.
With that said, here’s the thing I’ve been pondering today: I think it’s time for you to go back to work. Okay. Take a moment to freak out and be annoyed that I’m telling you to get back to work just days after your wife died. Maybe you won’t miss me as much if you remember what a control freak I could be. Take your time. I’ll wait.
Long enough?
Listen, work’s always been an outlet for you; the numbers and simulators, that’s your haven. At work they understand how your mind works in a way I sometimes struggled with. I’m hoping when immersed in your work you can get a respite from all the reminders of me haunting our house. So, when you’re done reading this, go pick out your clothes for tomorrow, but don’t forget me completely. Here’s an idea: you should wear something blue—for me.
And as long as I’m being bossy, let’s get those kids back to school. During this whole cancer drama, I’ve noticed routine is the antidote for this chaos in our lives. Breakfast together, making those lame-ass lunches every day, homework, piano lesson, baseball practice, dinner, bed. Those routines hold our kids up during the week now, and they will for you. It’s the quiet times I fear, when those dark thoughts of leaving you creep in and I can’t sleep at night. Perhaps keeping busy with work and school can save you from sleepless nights too.
So you know I’m not all talk and no action, I’m starting school today at good old Eastern Michigan University. Since Doc said I couldn’t be around my first graders till the chemo is over, I need something to keep my brain working. Only two more classes to complete my MEd. Wouldn’t it be awesome if I could kick cancer’s butt and graduate school’s butt at the same time? This time I’m walking the stage, even if I have to sew a wig into my hat. Remind me not to throw it at the end. Though that might be hilarious.
Have a great day at work tomorrow! I love you.
Love,
Natalie
Luke carefully refolded the letter, following Natalie’s lines, picturing her carefully pressing in each crease. He held it in front of him. The last thing he wanted to do was leave his house and talk to people. Even in his world of computers and numbers, there were people there. Unavoidable, occasionally annoying, people.
She’s dead. She won’t know. She can’t. He’d been telling himself the same thing for the past twenty-four hours, but it hadn’t worked. Tugging up the knot on his light-blue tie, Luke pushed off his bed, fully dressed. Clayton played quietly in his bedroom, which was refreshing after two weeks of nonstop zombie TV state. Luke poked his head around the doorjamb into Clayton’s little-boy room.
“It’s time to go to Miss Annie’s house. Let’s get your shoes on.”
“Miss Annie?” He shot up like a missile, a pirate action figure clenched in each fist. “Can I bring my toys?”
“You can bring two,” Luke said, spreading two fingers out in front of him to illustrate. Clayton scanned the room looking like Luke had asked whom he’d save first in a house fire.
Ten minutes and four toys later, Luke had successfully packed Clayton and his things up in the car. At least May and Will had grabbed the bus twenty minutes earlier and were probably already at school. They’d gone back the Monday after the funeral. “Luckily” Natalie had passed away over winter break, or at least that’s what at least half the out-of-state relatives kept saying. “How nice the kids don’t have to miss any school.” Luke had to work really hard to bite his tongue.
As he pulled out of the driveway into the street, with his workbag on the seat beside him, he looked back at the house. It was covered in snow, only a few slivers of green showing through the patches of white on the ground. The last time he did this was over a month ago, Natalie still inside watching him leave from her bed in the front room.
He shook his head. It must be surreal for May and Will. They left school three weeks ago with a terminally ill mother, and returned with a dead one. May said the first day back had gone well. The kids were a little distant, the teachers a little too clingy. Will was less helpful with information. When Luke asked how his day was, Will grumbled, “Fine.” He’d have to ask Annie to text him later to make sure he was okay.
Luke pulled into Annie’s neatly snowblown driveway, Brian’s cruiser parked out front. This was all part of the plan. Annie would watch Clayton during the day and do her medical transcriptions in the evening.
They’d always used a day care for Clayton when Natalie was teaching, so Luke was going to reenroll Clayton in Tiny Tots Day Care down the street until Annie had pulled him aside and asked, more like begged, to help. At first it just seemed like too much change for such a young child, but whenever Annie and Clayton spent time together, Luke could almost see their hearts healing each other. When he considered what Natalie would say to Annie’s offer, he knew there was no way he could refuse.
But Annie couldn’t watch the kids all day. Natalie had been very specific about what should happen with the kids after school. Luke was supposed to contact a college student Natalie had met on campus. Nat was sure she’d be great with the kids, could even tutor Will. A girl named Jessie. But he wasn’t ready to have an unknown college kid in his house every day. For now he’d work half days until—he hoped—he’d just know when it was the right time.