Chapter 3 - The Ghost and The Guilt
That night, the house felt larger and emptier than ever.
I sat in the living room, staring at the mantle. Above the brick fireplace sat a framed photograph of Elena. It was taken on our honeymoon in Maine. She was laughing, her blonde hair blowing across her face.
For four years, that smile had been my anchor and my prison.
I poured myself a glass of bourbon and sat heavily in the armchair. "I met someone, El," I whispered to the empty room.
Saying it aloud felt like a betrayal. A physical ache bloomed in my chest. When you lose a spouse, the world tells you to move on, but they don't tell you that moving on feels like leaving them behind in the dark. How could I make room for Clara and Lily without erasing Elena?
I drank the bourbon, letting the burn distract me. I remembered Elena's voice, her fierce independence, her boundless capacity for love.
I didn't die so you could stop living, Julian, my mind supplied in her voice.
I stood up, walked to the mantle, and touched the frame. I didn't put it away—I wouldn't ever put it away. But for the first time, looking at her didn't make me want to disappear. It made me want to honor the life she couldn't finish.
Saturday arrived with a brilliant, biting cold. The town square was transformed into a hallmark painting—thousands of fairy lights wrapped around oak trees, stalls selling roasted nuts, and a massive ice rink in the center.
I found them near the hot cider stand. Lily was wearing a puffy pink snowsuit, looking like a highly mobile marshmallow. Clara wore a red knit beanie, her cheeks flushed from the cold. When she saw me, her face lit up.
"Julian!" Lily yelled, sprinting toward me.
I knelt down just in time to catch her, lifting her effortlessly into the air. She giggled, grabbing my shoulders. "Did you bring the space scanner?"
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"I left it at the shop," I teased, setting her down. "But I brought reinforcements." I pulled two tickets for the carousel from my pocket.
Clara watched us, her eyes shining. As we walked toward the rides, our gloved hands brushed. I didn't pull away. Neither did she. For the first time in 1,460 days, I felt the ice around my heart begin to thaw.
