I was lying. I knew full well why I was here, telling Natalie. I wanted her approval. Her blessing.
It’s okay.
The voice was stronger this time. As though I’d heard it right next to me.
My head popped up to see a woman, an older woman, maybe in her late fifties, early sixties. She was kneeling down next to a tombstone two away from Natalie’s. She was laughing, silent but notable.
“It’s okay,” she repeated, louder this time.
I blew out a breath. At least I wasn’t going crazy.
“I know it’s okay. That everything is going to be okay,” she said more firmly.
I blinked, moving from my knees to a crouched position, wondering if this was the direct sign that I had been looking for because as the woman stared at the tombstone, it was as though her words were being spoken directly to me.
“Everything is going to be okay,” she repeated. “I know you’ll send me an angel. You always do. You were my angel on earth, and now that you’re not here anymore, you’ll send me an angel, exactly what I need. And then I’ll know I’m taken care of.”
The woman touched the tombstone and stood, and before she turned to walk away, she caught sight of me staring back at her. She smiled as her grayish hair rustled against the wind. “Everything will be okay.”
I shifted on the ground, getting up to stand, and smiled back even though this eeriness rushed through me. Something about this woman … it was like she knew me. Knew my troubles.
I watched her walk past the trees, past more headstones, and get into her car. Then, I dropped to my knees again, and I touched the words on Natalie’s headstone.
Beloved mother, wife, and friend.
“Baby, please … send us an angel too. Because I need help with myself, with these girls, with big decisions that I’m not sure how to make.” I paused, feeling deep emotions hit me directly in the chest. “Nat … can you do that for me, please?” My vision blurred, and the heaviness in my chest spread everywhere. I missed her so much that it hurt every part of me. I went on my knees, leaning closer to the headstone. “I know you’re looking out for us. You always do.” I pressed two fingers to my lips and then to the carved word wife. “I love you, baby. Forever and ever. Until we meet again.”
I sat at the kitchen table in the pitch-dark. Who knew what time it was? Three in the morning maybe. We’d been in our regular schedule for the past few weeks, and the girls had adjusted fully to Patty being gone and Becky being in charge.
Earlier, I swore I’d heard Becky scream, which was why I’d gone down to the kitchen, waiting and hoping she’d get a glass of water but she hadn’t.
It was cruel in a way—that people had to handle their nightmares alone in their heads.
Meeting her down here, in the dark, that night she’d cut her toe had made me feel better. For the first time in a long time, I hadn’t felt alone—as though she understood me as we bonded from the nightmares of our past.
The house was fully asleep, and you’d only realize it was a scream if you were awake at such a god-awful time, which I was.
Yesterday, I’d heard her. I swore it hadn’t been my imagination. I’d stood by her door, all of me wanting to go in and hold her, which was absurd and obviously could never happen.
I wanted to hold her because I understood about nightmares, how real they were, how when you were stuck in one, it felt as though you were never, ever going to get out. It was like reliving the worst moment of your life over and over again, and that was why, at times, I was afraid to close my eyes.
Only when I was bone tired did I reluctantly fall asleep, against my will, only to wonder if this was going to be another night that I was going to wake up in a cold sweat.
Suddenly, I heard footsteps padding down the stairs, and I sat straighter in my chair. When she flipped on the lights, her eyes eventually spotted me at the table.
“I … I don’t want to be scared again.” Her voice shook, and her arms were wrapped around her waist, as though she were holding herself together.
I didn’t know if she meant me scaring her or the nightmare.