The alarm clock goes at 8:00. It wakes me with the soft sound of classical music. A piano and a bit of violin mixed in with it. It's a peaceful yet sad awakening. I sigh. Waking up alone gets easier every time. The sadness doesn't go away, you just get used to the fact that he’s not here anymore. Not here anymore to wake me up gently and tell me I look as pretty as I did when he first saw me. I have to keep my day filled up with things that keep me busy so I don't notice as much that I am alone. I always thought I would have him to spend the rest of my life with, till I was too old to remember my own name. I always thought I was too young to lose him. Reality cleared that up for me. I get dressed and fix up my hair so it’s smooth with slight curls and so that the gentle blond streaks show. I dress up in a white blouse and black dress pants as if to say "I'm important and on a job mission ... Don’t get in my way". I need to seem strong and confident so people stop asking me if I'm doing OK and if I'm mourning still. The answer is 'Yes'. But I put on this mask, of light makeup and put on a show. The thing he never wanted me to do. And I smile a type of lie that fools most people. But in the mirror, my reflection is still just an aging, weak, single woman that I wish could up and disappear and never come back. But she’s part of me now and she always will be. I have to deal with it. Some days I'm not sure if I still want to wear my wedding ring. It brings up questions that lead to bringing up all the memories. And everyone I know gives me a look that says "poor her, still holding on, won’t let go". But would I be hurting the memories if I took the ring off and acted like there was nothing that happened that has made my days empty and less meaningful. but with my mask I have painted on, I can handle anything. And I slip the ring on my finger anyways. Bring it on world.
The process takes just a little over 30 minutes and I get ready to walk out the door, throwing on a long dark purple coat with black dress shoes and i grab my reading glasses, gently placing them in my bag beside my book, I'm a sucker for romance novels. Not the typical ones that have the damsel and the shirtless hunk on the cover, which multiple writers do. Where am I going do you ask? Out of this house, out and away of only me and the empty left side of the closet. The empty side of the bed, the empty side of the dresser. I have the day off today and I do what I do on most of my days off. I drive, though I hate it, I was always the passenger, but had to get used to it since I can’t rely on people to drive me everywhere all the time. And I end up at the mall. where I walk down to the small square that contains cushioned chairs and benches, where the men usually sit, wait and hang with the other husbands and boyfriends while their wives and girlfriends go around and shop at stores that don't contain sports equipment, cars, food, or movies with people getting beat up and dying every other minute. And I sit. All small stores within the mall are closed and the grocery store is full of employees fixing everything on the shelves to make them look nice. But I'm not here to shop. Most of the people that come in around nine a.m are the retired folks that go straight to the lotto to win that few million dollars before they die, or the food court for a morning deal of heart attack. I pull out a book and my glasses and open to the page I left off on last night. Most people might think that the mall is a weird place to decide to read a book in, there's no quiet or peace and there's always people walking around that can be distracting. But to me it’s something different. I don't mind the people, early like this, there is not a lot anyways, even the odd number of teenagers there seems to be today, but I don't feel alone, which is what I want as much most of all. And I can always zone out into my book and become this damsel that gets saved by a shirtless guy on a powerful white horse. Cheesy yes, it never happens, but my hero is gone. I just want to be surrounded by people and not have to talk to them, not feel alone but be in silence at the same time.
I'm not there for long before my name being called brings me out of my trance and I look up to see Betty, dressed in a long black coat, clutching her bag strap and looking as upbeat as always. Her unnatural curly hair in place and wouldn't move if a wind storm hit. I smile at her but not sure if I want to deal with her at the moment. But too late, before I can do anything and go back into fairly tale land, she’s chatting up a storm as always and sits down beside me before I can offer her a seat. Oh Betty. I respond when there's a question and just smile and nod to everything else. But then I realize how nice it is to actually talk to someone. And her endless chatter seems a little peaceful and my smile becomes real. I bookmark my page and close it so my full attention is on her and then she is asking me if I would like to get some coffee and a biscuit. I agree without really thinking and we get on our way to a small coffee shop away from the mall. I tell myself to enjoy it as much as possible and soak it all up. Don’t take this friendship for granted and be interesting in the conversation. Make an effort Claire. Because when the day ends and I’m back at home, I climb into my side of the empty bed and fall asleep. And when the alarm clock wakes me up. I’m alone again. And it starts all over.
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