The Big Blue Sky: Thirteen

Doug was sitting at the dining room table. The room was dark but for the ambient eggshell light off the porch sep. The light was softened by the rain that ran in rivulets upon the window. Through the open window a chill wind embraced Doug. The wind carried the thumping surf just beyond the tall pine and birch at the back of the yard. One arm was hooked over the back of the chair. In the other hand Doug swirled a snifter of amber Armagnac.

It was his third glass that evening, and the warm bite of the spirit perfectly reflected the autumn chill, as if they were lovers swept into a moment of attraction. Together they proved the appropriate juxtaposition to the numbness wrought by the week and the day. From the other room, almost lost to the wind and trees and surf, came a languishing Nick cave melody. It was one of Jane’s favorites. The word fell like fat raindrops, running away with the blessedly remorseful piano melody:

And no more shall we part
It will no longer be necessary
And no more will I say, dear heart
I am alone and she has left me

And no more shall we part
The contracts are drawn up, the ring is locked upon the finger
And never again will my letters start
Sadly, or in the depths of winter

And no more shall we part
All the hatchets have been buried…

He was thinking. He was thinking that one spouse would one day outlive the other was implied in marriage. It is the burden few dare entertain in youth, but grows steadily with the sunset of lives. A good loving man prays he will be the one left to fend alone, while quietly dreading the ultimate weight of that loss. Doug sighed at the thought, and sighed mournfully. He closed his eyes tight against threatening tears and downed the last of the Armagnac.

There was a sound from the family room behind him. Gentle hands fell upon his shoulders. Doug’s heart fluttered with emotion. For just a moment he expected to find Jane standing there, ready to console him. He looked up and in the half light that fragmentary illusion seemed complete. It was enough that he nearly burst into tears of joy.

“Startle you, Dad?” Megan asked softly, as if her voice was a quality of the wind and distant surf. Doug didn’t answer right away. He studied the empty glass in his hand for a moment.

“No, honey, just thinking.”

Megan went around to the window and pulled it closed, shivering at the cold. She was still in the dress she’d worn for the funeral. Megan slid into her usual chair at the long dining room table and sat.

“Want to be alone?” she asked, sweeping a hand across the smooth polished wood, as though exploring it. Her hand paused in front of her mother’s chair, as if expecting Jane’s hand to reach out. Doug weighed Megan’s words. It wasn’t an easy question.

“You okay?” he changed the subject.

“Worried about Dana,” she replied softly, tears threatening.

“Is she…”

“She’s up in your and…in your room.”

“I’m worried about you guys,” he said.

Megan’s brow faltered. For all her strength she was just holding things together. “I’m okay.”

“So proud of you through all of this, sweetheart.”

Megan chewed her lip, sporting that same refusal to be ruled by emotion that Jane used to criticize Doug over. She looked to the window. Doug watched a thought materialize in her eyes and waited in anticipation. Even still, he wasn’t entirely prepared for it.

“Will you ever get married again?”

The thought had not even occurred to Doug. Even after Jane was told she was terminal he had never once considered a time after. He never once imagined that he would one day have to take stock of his new life. What would it mean to the girls? Was it a way of selfishly assuaging his own loneliness and need? Did it break the vow he’d made to her the day of their wedding? Was ‘till death do us part’ only a mortal contract absolving and releasing the survivor upon the other’s death? These were not questions he could form a proper view of just yet, even as they assaulted him at every turn.