She stared at the shoe box on the floor between the front seats.
I have to carry that in, she thought. And the bag of clothes. The effort seemed overwhelming. Is there a desk I take them to? she wondered. Should I have labeled this stuff like when the boys went to camp? Maybe I have a Sharpie in the glove compartment. She reached across in front of Liz, her sister-in-law, not even noticing her efforts to get out of the way.
How had her summer come to this? As she rummaged in the glove box the receipt for her license renewal fell out. Was that just two months ago? Really? That was how my summer began? Okay, she told herself, they’re just clothes. Nothing else. Block out where you are. And why. Just block it out. But, then a hearse pulled into the long driveway next to her. She watched stunned family members leaving the funeral home and getting into limousines behind the hearse. So, I’m not the only one. There are other people who have lost someone. This happens to everyone. This happens all the time.
“How come I never knew?” she said, more to herself than to Liz, who’d been sitting silently with her.
“Knew what, honey?”
“Knew that people died. Every damn day. Knew that families had to collect clothes and shoes for their dead children. Knew that there were all these details. . . .” Ellen’s voice trailed off.
“Because it hadn’t happened to you.”
Ellen shook her head. It was more than that. But she didn’t know what. Add it to the list of things I don’t understand anymore, she thought.
She went back to looking for a Sharpie; she hauled out all the papers and receipts and manuals crammed into the glove compartment, but even though she found two tire gauges and several straws from McDonald’s, there were no markers. She dropped the mess on the floor and started to gather up the clothes and shoes instead, but when she reached for the door latch, she stopped.
“I can’t,” she whispered.
“I’ll go with you,” Liz offered.
“No. I can’t do this. Not by myself. Not even with you or with anybody.” Ellen hugged the clothes to her chest and inhaled deeply. She sniffed the shirt again, expecting the smell of fabric softener. Oh God, she thought, he must have worn this and put it away again rather than down the laundry chute. I smell him. I can’t lose that. I won’t. I can go home, she thought frantically. I can go through all his drawers and smell all his shirts. And I can seal up all the dirty ones in Zip-loc bags, so years from now I’ll still be able to smell him. She heard Liz gasp and realized she had said some of this out loud. First the new shoes, she thought and now this. They’ll be ordering me a strait-jacket before sundown.
“Ellen, I’ll take in the clothes. You stay here.”
Ellen nodded but didn’t loosen her grip on the clothes. Liz got out and came around to the driver’s side and opened the door.
“Okay, honey, let go. I’ll be right back. Stay here.”
Ellen nodded and unclenched the clothes, but even so, Liz glanced back as she opened the doors to the funeral home as if expecting Ellen to jump out of the car and take off running. I would if there was anyplace to go, Ellen thought. I’d run and run and run. But she knew that she could run for hours or weeks or years and never get back to where she wanted to be, where it was safe, four days ago on the dock at the lake right before the accident or maybe two months ago at the start of what had seemed like another summer.
- End -
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