On Saturday morning, Stephanie came into my bedroom, plunked herself on the side of the bed and told me she was leaving to join the other women of their immediate group at my house for a cleaning and donating party. John was already gone to work, something that seemed to be a common occurrence and one that she seemed to think was the better alternative. At least Christie and I had never acted in this way. She leaned over and kissed me.
“God, I love you. Christie was a lucky woman. I am so profoundly sorry to see you in such pain. It’s because you cared so much for her that you have such pain. I think that if I died in similar circumstances John would miss the home cooked meals and the occasional tender moment but would be back at the office the day after the funeral.” With that, she got up and left.
Five hours later she returned. She told me of what they had accomplished. She also said they were all looking forward to having dinner with me.
Dinner was at Charlie’s Bar & Grill, the unofficial watering hole and eating place for the group. They put us in a private room, probably because they knew how loud this group could be. Christie had told me about some of their raucous get togethers. Stephanie, Sheila, Amber, Faith and Claudette were five of a kind: accomplished, intelligent women. I made a short speech thanking each and every one of them for being so supportive during the long, losing battle. There were tears in their eyes. I also said dinner was on me. That said, I settled back to watch and observe. They moved to other topics of information with lots of give and take. Faith caught me watching them, a bemused look on my face.
” OK, Jeremy, spill it. What’s so interesting?”
“I’m just thinking how lucky Christie was to have such incredible friends. You guys are the League of Extraordinary Women.”
By acclimation, I was inducted as an associate member of the League for having suggested the name. The League would meet monthly to discuss business, eat and drink, not necessarily in that order.
On Sunday I moved back into my house. I say house because it no longer was my home with Christie. Almost all indicators that Christie had ever been in that house were erased. There were still photographs of the two of us together but otherwise she was gone. The sheets were changed, her clothes, shoes, makeup, shampoo, anything and everything that indicated a female presence were gone. The house had probably not been this clean since we had moved in. We had been good but not great at house cleaning, often finding other things to do of greater priority. I was again in debt to the League. I guess I would be paying for the next meeting, too.
Monday found me back at the office. I went through the rounds of condolences, hoping this would end soon. It felt strange to be back. I had taken a leave of absence to be with Christie through the last few months. Everything looked familiar yet strange. Paul, my boss, was one of the last to offer his condolences, then he gave me a new assignment to work on. It felt good to have something to do.
That night I opened the refrigerator to find something to eat and found five days worth of pre-made dinners, just having to be heated to be ready to eat. I found myself again in debt to the League.
The days crept by. Stephanie called daily to see how I was doing. I joined a support group for widows and widowers. I was probably the youngest member.
The next monthly meeting of the League of Extraordinary Women came quickly. I joined the five at Charlie’s, getting a great hug from each of them. I told them dinner was on me, to thank them for their work at the house. The offer was accepted unanimously. We ate, drank and laughed. Being around a group of women is completely different than being around an equal number of men. I am constantly amazed at the brutal honesty among them. Nothing was off limits. They all talked about their husbands and families with incredible openness. I was seeing these men from a completely different perspective, some of those perspectives completely unflattering. We heard the DJ in the main room start up. They all turned to me and said it was time to dance. My dance card filled up quickly. They danced with other men, with each other and with me. At moments it was five women and me on the dance floor. I finally begged that it was time to go. We filed out and I got a hug and kiss from each of them. I was sated. Stephanie was last in line to say good night.
“Come sit in my car for a moment. I’ve got something to talk to you about.”
I joined her in her car. She leaned over and kissed me on the lips. “Everyone else got to kiss you, so do I.” I didn’t mention that most of them had been on the cheek, or lightly on the lips, not a firm kiss such as hers. “You are doing great. I’m really proud of you. Everyone is equally proud of you and glad that you’ve come to two of our get togethers. We all look forward to this so much, to be able to put down the everyday world and spend time together. Everyone is looking forward to you continuing to come.”
“I hate to think what was said about me in that group. Every other husband and boyfriend was thoroughly dissected.”