“Start carrying these bags out to the garbage bins in the garage. We’ll get the big stuff now and do the real cleaning another day.”
I moved to collect the bags, amazed that there were already four bags filled.
“The vegetable bins are just gross. Everything goes, then the bins have to be washed or we’ll never get rid of the smell.”
We worked our way through the other cabinets, dumping any open containers of food that would possibly be spoiled or stale. She even did a quick scan of the canned goods and tossed unopened cans that had expired. The last eighteen months had taken their toll. Eating had been reduced to the absolute minimum to sustain life. Christie had been a marvelous cook. I had lived on canned soup and sandwiches.
“Go into the other rooms on this floor and collect anything you don’t want to keep. Set those items by the front door.”
So much for a slow, studied review of our worldly items, interweaved with memories of the specific times each item brought to mind. I scanned the bookshelves, open shelves, table tops, anything that held pictures or other memorabilia. I pulled out books that were Christie’s. All of this was gathered into a growing pile by the front door.
“What about the pictures? Are you going to keep all of these?”
Some were of Christie and her friends, marking their journeys here and there.
“Why don’t you go through them and keep the ones that seem memorable.”
“Don’t worry about the upstairs today. A group of us are coming over Saturday to gather her clothing and other items. We’ll take those to donate. Start a pile in one of the spare bedrooms of other items you don’t want to keep.”
It was fast and furious. We sat at the kitchen table for a few minutes. “I’ll start with the dishes, get a load in the dishwasher and then sweep and mop the floor. You should go through her car and take out anything personal. I’d have it detailed, then sell it somewhere. If you price it fair it’ll go pretty quickly.”
I moved to the car. I had driven it back and forth to the hospital many times, much of the stuff in the car was now my material to sort through. I cleaned out the glovebox and the trunk. It was dirty. Stephanie was right, it would need a thorough cleaning before being sold. Other than the car, the garage was pretty well my domain. There might be a few things in storage that would eventually go but otherwise it was just the stuff you slowly gathered as the years go by. I’d have to go through the Christmas stuff someday but certainly not today. I moved back to the kitchen. It already had been Stephanied, it now had a certain sheen to it. The floor, counters and sinks were gleaming clean. If I gave her another hour the windows would be as well. The dishwasher was churning away. The fridge was running again after being turned off to facilitate the mass cleansing. I heard noises from another room. Stephanie had already moved on to the downstairs bathroom and had gone through it, tossing whatever was appropriate.
“Jeremy, would you go through the hall closet?”
That was the least I could do. It pained me to see Christie’s coats, boots, gloves and other cold weather gear. I got a bag from the kitchen and placed those items in it, adding it to the growing pile. Stephanie had opened all the curtains and blinds, letting in more light than there had been for months and months. I slowly looked around, noting what was still there and what was now gone forever. The whirling dervish I sometimes called Hurricane Stephanie emerged from the bathroom.
“That’s a good start. You should go upstairs and gather some things for yourself. I’m not letting you sleep here alone with all of this surrounding you. You’re staying at our house for a couple of nights. The girls and I will get the donated stuff out of here on Saturday. I’m inviting you to go to dinner with us Saturday night.”
My immediate reaction was to say no. But as I thought about it, it seemed like the right thing to do. I needed to thank all of them for constant support through all of this. I turned to Stephanie and said, “Yes, I’d be happy to go.”
“That’s great, I thought for sure you would turn me down. Now get your stuff, you’re taking me to lunch.”
Lunch was Italian and it was good to eat something besides soup, sandwiches and hospital cafeteria food. I thanked her for her help this morning.
“Feeling better?”
“Yes, I am. I dreaded going through the house. Now it doesn’t seem so overwhelming.”
“Forget selling the car yourself. Let’s take it to one of those consignment car lots and let them sell it. You don’t need to deal with all of those memories tied up in that car.”
Christie’s car had been her pride and joy. Unlike many women, she preferred a manual transmission and had bought a new Camaro three years ago. Given what transpired, it had almost no miles on it. It was bright red and suited her personality. Another jolt of pain coursed through me as I thought about it. After lunch we drove home and used the internet to find consignment dealers in town. We chose one, and she drove the Camaro to a nearby carwash where we first cleaned and vacuumed it, then drove to the lot with me trailing her in my car. The paperwork done, we got in my car and drove to her home. She showed me to their guest room, pointed out the bathroom, and said think of it as your home away from home.
John called me on my cellphone. “I hear you’re my guest.”
“It’s very difficult to tell your wife no. She’s very persuasive.”
“I gave up telling her no a long time ago. It just saves a lot of conversation and aggravation. She’ll hammer on something from a million different ways until she gets what she wants.”
I understood those words all too well. Stephanie had set her sights on an affair with me and eventually I had said yes. Given what had transpired, I still felt massively guilty. To John I said, “Women seem born with that ability. It’s not just Stephanie.”
“Amen to that!”
We said our goodbyes and I went to find Steph. I found her in the kitchen, baking bread. “Don’t you ever do enough? Can’t you ever just relax?” She had a dab of flour on the end of her nose. She looked absolutely adorable.
“Let me finish this. The dough will have to rise, so I’ll sit down with you in a couple of minutes.”
True to her word, she finished up, washed her hands and found me on the family room couch. She joined me on the couch, surprising me by laying on the couch and putting her head on my lap. “You told me to relax! Don’t get bent out of shape by this. You’re hands off for a long time.”
I looked down at her, thinking that she already had a plan for the future that included me but let it go. That was the future, I’d deal with that when it came. In the meantime, there was getting through today. I thanked her for working on the house. She shrugged it off, saying it had to be done. Better to do it with someone than doing it alone.
That night we had dinner. The fresh baked bread was delicious. John came home about two hours later, pleading last minute deadlines. I had the feeling that those deadlines were the same ones from the day before and the day before that. They were going through the motions of him making excuses and having them accepted at face value. At least they weren’t bitter and fighting about it, though I thought that was the inevitable conclusion. I spent time telling John about we had done and telling him what a good friend Steph had been. He again told me how sorry he was about what had happened. John had somehow managed to fit the funeral into his busy schedule. I should be grateful.