return to dust, part 2

October 2086. Aurora Harris is 40, Zach is 9, Rebecca is 3. Meadow Lind is 71, Brady is 72. Clarice Miller is 40. 


The story of how Aurora ended up in California with the kids was a complicated story. If she had to summarize it, it would be that she ran and ran until she hit the ocean and could go no further, contemplating whether she should just keep walking out into the sea. No, she decided, she would not walk out into the sea. She had children to raise for fifteen more years. The sea could come for her later.

Of course, there were a few more steps between that moment and now.


First, she had to leave the house that she’d shared with Joel for twelve years.

Aurora was distraught. She was a widow as well as an award-winning yet penniless author. But her best friends, Blake and Clarice, promised to take care of her. They took care of everything—they helped her sell the house, they helped her pack, and they promised that she and the kids would be taken care of until she got back on her feet. Blake and Clarice were her guardian angels, they wrapped her up into their family, and they all went off in search of a new start together.

They ended up in Arizona because that was where Clarice found work.

For the first few months—those horrible months of anguish and festering pain—they got by. They found a place to live with plenty of bedrooms. They settled in. The kids started school. Nobody thought the least thing of their little arrangement. Until they found out that some people did wonder about it. People started to gossip, people started to stare, and then the children began to ask questions? Which one is your mom? Which one is your dad? Why do you all live together? Then the children came home from the bus stop using words that only some gossiping adult could have taught them.

Zach asked, "What does polygamous mean?"

And if their neighbors thought it looked like that, was Joel looking down on them from his afterlife thinking it looked like that?

Aurora's family and friends tried to tell her. "He wouldn’t care. He would want you to be happy and taken care of."

But how do you know if he wouldn't care? How could anyone possibly know what Joel would think or feel? Because Aurora knew Joel inside and out.

But why is he always tickling you? 
What do you talk about? 
Is that story about me or him? 
But that story at the fair, that was about him, wasn’t it? That wasn’t about me. 
What kind of kissing in college? 
How much tongue? 
Did you ever touch his dick? 

Aurora couldn’t even remember what the story at the fair was about. But if Joel was still the same Joel in spirit that he was in life, then he would have cared. It would have plagued is eternity.

She was so sorry after all the trouble they'd gone through to take care of her. But it had to be this way.


It was time now for her to take care of herself, anyway. At some point, you have to decide what to do with the rest of your life.

She couldn't write books anymore. She couldn’t finish this book in particular, even though she was still on contract for it with her publisher. They were being very patient with her, considering the circumstances. She’d drafted this book after Joel left for war and the stories were very tender and personal. Now she loathed to even read it again. Stories About You, indeed. Joel could be assured that all of these stories were about him. And now she couldn't stand to look at them.


Would it have been such a big deal to just tell Blake, "No tickling?" To set some rules—no late nights, no bedrooms, no hugs. If her husband hated it that much. If it didn’t mean anything? But she never did. Maybe she felt entitled in their righteousness—they never did anything wrong, why should they change their friendship because Joel was insecure? She never gave her husband that one little thing for peace of mind. And it plagued him until the day he died.

"I'll ask your brother to look in on you... Your real brother."

But it was true that she needed to be looked after. She couldn't support their family on her own on just her story royalties. Her story collections were well reviewed, but they were still artsy little short stories and they barely made any money. Now she couldn't write anything at all. Not her artsy little love stories at least. Her love stories were dead.

Joel left them a death benefit though the military and she got a good price for their house. She did the math and figured that they could afford this apartment until the kids were grown. And then she would be free to walk herself out into the sea.

Or maybe she'd get a job.

But she didn't know what kind of work she could do, if not writing. A military wife with a husband at war should always have a backup plan, yet she always believed that it would never happen to them. Until it did.


"Can we have a play date with Elliot?" Zach begged. Zach hadn't seen his friend in two months since Aurora broke their families apart and ran away.

"I don't know," she told him.

"Or Raine?"

"Sure. Maybe Raine, I'll call her mom."

"Maybe I'll drive you out there if you want to see Elliot," Meadow offered. 

"Mom, don't," Aurora said. 

"You should get out of the house. Join a class. Get a part-time job. Drive your son to Sierra Nova to see his friend. Something. Anything." 

"Maybe I’ll finally find that grocery store," Aurora said.

"Aurora, you make it difficult for people to help you."

But Aurora didn't want people to help her. She wanted her husband not to be dead. But she couldn't have that.


She was being unfair, perhaps. She knew that. How could she ruin their boys' friendship because she had weird and complicated feelings?

Clarice still called often to check in. "We just want to see you," she said. "We just want to know that you're okay. I don't understand why you can't see Blake, but could you see me? Will you have dinner with me if he doesn't come? We miss you."

I miss you guys too, was what Aurora meant to say. She missed them both desperately. She missed her husband, and she missed Blake and Clarice. But the difference was that they weren't dead.

"Yes, okay," Aurora said. "Just the two of us."


"How are you? How are the kids? How are your parents? You smell so good."

"Everyone is fine. And why does everyone keep saying that? How bad did I used to smell?"


"Are you hungry? Do you want to eat?"

Aurora's nerves were hungry for something liquid and strong. "Maybe in a while. I think I’d really like a drink first."


They ordered two of the strongest cocktails on the menu.

"Coming right up!" their waitress said.


It had only been two months since they'd seen each other last, but they had a lot of catching up to do.

"Are you working yet?"

"No. I suppose I should. I don’t know what to do. I have some money left over from the house. We get Joel’s pension. My book royalties here and there. It’ll be enough for a while."

"Are you writing anything?"

"I can’t write anymore," Aurora said. "My publisher wants me to finish the collection I was working on, but I just can’t. Nobody's even read it yet."

Blake used to read all of her drafts before anyone. He saw everything first. They'd met in college as freshman before either of them met Clarice. In freshman comp, it was just the two of them. Aurora intended to be the next Ernest Hemingway and Blake would be the next Leonard Cohen. By junior year, Aurora had found her voice in witty domestic essays and Blake gave up songwriting to focus on political science instead, but Blake still admired her craft in a way that nobody else in her life ever could. He was her first fan, he used to say.

But this book was Joel's book unlike any that she'd written before. Even if she could bring herself to see Blake, it would still feel inappropriate for him to read that book first.

"Maybe I could read it instead?" Clarice offered. "I know a little bit about writing, too. You know, newspaper editor and all."

Aurora smiled politely. "Maybe," she said, knowing that it wouldn’t be the same. But it was an idea. If anyone ever got to read this tortured manuscript, perhaps it should be Clarice first.

"Or maybe try some non-fiction?" Clarice suggested. "Something very non-fiction. I could use another writer at the newspaper. Restaurant critic or something?"

"I’ll think about it."


"It makes him sad," Clarice said.

Blake, she meant.

"At least he's not dead," Aurora said. "You're not dead. He could be sadder."

What her mother said was true. She did make it hard for people to help her. Had she turned into a terrible person? A cold, unfeeling, heartless person?

"I know, but still," Clarice said. "When there’s so much sadness already, why should there be more? We want to be there for you. He wants to be there for you." Clarice's face turned serious. "Can I ask you something?"

Aurora nodded.

"Did Blake do something?" Clarice had a tremble of panic in her voice. "Is there something you two aren’t telling me about? Is that why you won’t see him?"


"No, he did nothing," Aurora said. "He was perfect. Your husband is the kindest and most respectful gentleman I’ve ever known."

Clarice took a sharp breath that looked like relief.

"He thinks he did something wrong."

"I did something wrong," Aurora said. "I should have cut off the friendship years ago, but I didn’t. That was my fault."

"You’re entitled to your feelings, of course, but I don’t think you did anything wrong." After some time, Clarice smiled at Aurora's hand. "You're still wearing your ring."


"I have no reason to take it off," Aurora said.

"That’s fine. Wear it until you’re ready to start dating again."

Aurora shook her head.

"I know you don’t want to think about it now, but someday you’ll want to date again."

"No."

"You’re only forty! You could live another fifty years. That’s a long time to be alone. That’s more than half your life."

"Maybe someday I’ll take a lover."

They chuckled at this far off fantasy, for it being so very unreal. The vague idea of sex, not real sex with a real man. The idea of actually touching another live man’s penis revolted Aurora. Even Blake’s penis—maybe especially Blake’s penis—which, for the record, she did not ever touch in college. Not underneath their clothing, at least.

No. A vibrator and sappy romance novels would do her just fine for the next fifty years, probably. Joel would probably hate for her to have a lover.

"Pat and Lara are out here now," Aurora said, wanting to change the subject. "I guess I'll probably take Zach over to see Raine. Maybe Elliot could come, too. Zach has been begging to see him."

"That sounds nice," Clarice said. "Hayden and Piper are coming out here, too, after the new year. With Riley and Chad. Nessa and Jack are talking about it now, too, since everyone else moved. We should get everyone together. Like an old college reunion."

Then Clarice stopped, realizing what she said.

"All those married couples. That would be like torture for you, wouldn’t it?"


"I’ll come when one of you guys gets divorced," Aurora said. "Well, if fifty percent end in early death or divorce—I’ve got the death taken care of, so who do you think will be the divorce? It won't be you and Blake. I know that much."

"I hear Riley and Chad are on the rocks?"

"That doesn’t count, they’ve been on the rocks since before they got married."


"Now that we drank their bar dry, I'm kind of hungry. Now I could eat something."

The dinner crowd had come and gone. Now the waitstaff brought out greasy bar food and desserts. They ordered some ice cream for dinner.

—

footnotes: Joel was worried about Blake // Ghost Joel is not resting in peace



TS4 Emily and Elliot, who didn't get a chance to show up in this piece. Emily is four, Elliot is nine.


TS4 Blake, who didn't get to show up in the story, either.


Blake is running for Representative of the Sierra Nova district. He brings ten years of government experience on Lake City's town council and is endorsed by his former Governor, Madison Riley. He supports public health programs, public schools, and government programs to help citizens in need.