Later that night after Jason and Laura left, Jenny called. “What did you do tonight?” she blurted out without even saying hello.
“Nothing.”
“Oh, you’re gonna pull that bullshit? Will just called Tyler and asked if you were seeing someone. He said he called the apartment and some guy answered.”
“Jenny, just leave it alone. Will shouldn’t be involving you guys.”
“Well, okay, Mia, we’ll leave it alone. I can’t help you, anyway. Stop playing games, that’s all I’m gonna say.”
We said goodbye and that was that. She didn’t bring it up again.
Track 17: Angels’ Wings
On January 26th, exactly one week before Will was scheduled to come home, Jackson died. I took him for a walk through the park that morning. I threw the ball for him and he chased it like a puppy. We took a nap on a blanket overlooking the children’s playground; he seemed so happy and content. When we got back to the apartment, he went and curled up on his bed while I took a shower. Coming out the bathroom, I glanced into the doorway of my bedroom and noticed that he was lying in a different position. He was facing the wall, which was unusual and he was very still… too still.
I knew he was gone without getting any closer. “No, no no, please no.” I ran straight out of the apartment, wearing nothing but a robe. On the street, I was blasted by freezing air, which caused me to scream loudly. I was hysterical by the time I walked through the café door. Martha and Jenny swarmed me.
“It’s Jackson!” I said, sobbing.
Martha wrapped me in her arms then turned toward Paddy and Joe. “Can you boys man the counter?”
They stood up, proudly saluted Martha, and dashed behind the counter like it was the most important job they would ever do. “Thank you.” I mumbled, barely loud enough for them to hear.
“Of course, luv,” Joe said sympathetically, sounding just like my father. Pain shot through my heart again. I winced and then buckled over. Jenny rubbed my back and urged me toward the door.
Once on the street she called Tyler, asking him to come over immediately. When the three of us got to the landing outside my apartment door, I turned toward them. Hyperventilating, I tried to get the words out. “I can’t… go… back in there.” We slumped into a pile at the top of the stairs, both of them holding me tight as we waited for Tyler. I cried softly into my hands until I felt him moving past me. He bent down, leaned toward my ear and spoke slowly. “I’m sorry, Mia.”
“I know,” I said, voice raspy. “Thank you for helping.” He kissed my temple and went into the apartment.
He brought Jackson out, wrapped in a blanket. I stood up and put my hand on him. Through sobs I spoke to my dead dog. “I’m sorry, buddy. I love you—you were the best.” And he was. He didn’t even make a fuss about dying; he just curled up on his little bed and went to sleep. Man’s best friend… I get it.
Inside the apartment Jenny hugged me. “Tyler will take care of everything—he has a friend who works for a vet.”
“What are they going to do with him?” I said, squinting. In Ann Arbor we buried our dogs in the back yard; in New York that wasn’t an option.
“They’ll cremate him and bring you the ashes, but don’t worry about that right now. Do you want me to call Will?”
“No,” I said sullenly. “I’ll call him later.” I knew Will was going to take it hard too, and I wanted to spare him that while he was away. I had no intention of calling him later.
I looked at Martha and Jenny and thanked them as tears continued pouring from my eyes. “You guys can go; I’m okay. I just want to be alone.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, we’re not leaving you alone,” Jenny said.
“No really, I’m serious. I just want to cry alone, please.” They looked at each other and then back at me. “Please,” I said again.
They stood there, paralyzed, until Martha broke the silence. “We’ll be in the café, close by.” I fell into her arms and sobbed on her shoulder. “Oh my Mia Pia, poor girl. First your Pops and now Jackson.”
I let out a loud cry. When I could finally speak I said, “Please, I’m fine, I just need to be alone. I love you guys.”
After they left I went and threw on some underwear and one of Will’s white T-shirts. I could barely handle being in my room where both my father and Jackson died, so I went and curled up on Will’s bed and cried myself to sleep at two in the afternoon.
I woke up several hours later, surrounded by darkness and feeling as desolate as the apartment looked. It was nine o’clock and I wondered how I would get through the night. I yearned for Will and it was worse being in his bed, surrounded by his things.
I went to the kitchen and opened a bottle of wine, attempting to numb the pain. Of course, half a bottle down and nothing was numb. If anything, I had become more of a raw nerve. I sat at the piano and played “Wild Horses” over and over, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, while the tears ebbed and flowed. Just before midnight, I closed the cover on the piano and put my head down. I cried tears I didn’t know I had. My head ached. I drenched tissue after tissue as I cried for my dog and my father and for Will too.
I was in that moment right as you fall asleep, when your body relaxes slightly and your hazy thoughts become a dream. I jolted awake when I heard someone coming up the stairwell. Without looking or caring, I swung the door open and stood face to face with my angel, except that he looked like a mere mortal that night. He was thinner than before, his eyes were bloodshot, and he shivered beneath his thin, black sweatshirt. His head was down; the top of his hoody came to rest just above his sad, dark eyes, which peered at me through narrow slits. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets as he shifted nervously.