“Do I have to need something to stop by, Maggie?”
No, but there was always a motive, always a sense of obligation that she “check” on her poor brokenhearted sister.
Maggie sighed, trying hard to reel in her cynicism. “Sorry.” She waved a hand toward the table. “Wanna sit?”
Perrin lowered herself into a chair. The fur lining of her hood matched the gold hues of her hair. Only she could manage to keep a down jacket so pristinely white all winter long.
Maggie pulled off the bulky layer of her thermal hoody, made for warmth more than any sort of vanity. It was what everyone wore in the sub-zero supply store where she worked. Static electricity assaulted her hair as she stripped off the added layer. She hung the outerwear on the hook by the door next to Nash’s leather jacket.
As she sat, her sister watched her, like an animal at the zoo in a new exhibit. Used to such scrutiny, Maggie popped the top off her coffee and took a sip.
Her eyes closed as she recognized the savory flavor of quality coffee. “This is good coffee. Thanks.”
“It’s from the café in town.” Perrin’s lips pressed tight. “I know the anniversary’s coming up, Maggie.”
“Yup. That’s the funny thing about anniversaries. They come every year.”
March would forever be the month he died. April commemorated their first official date. May was when he asked her to move into his apartment. July was their wedding anniversary. September was the month they bought their house. October was his birthday. December was all together brutal because no one did Christmas like Nash. January marked the day he proposed. February was the month they first kissed outside the gym during a school dance. And then, it was March all over again.
“Maybe it’s time for you to get back out there—”
“Don’t.”
She didn’t want another speech about how young she was or how many fish still swam in the sea. She’d been with Nash since middle school. He was her first everything. She couldn’t remember who she was before he’d come along, and without him breathing life into her soul, she felt no urge to keep on living. She had no desire to pretend that the mundane social bullshit other singles did to waste time and distract them from their lonesome, meaningless existences was actually worth her time.
Perrin nodded and backed off but then announced, “Bran’s mom knows a therapist that just opened a new practice in town. Maybe you could call. He’s doing free consultations.”
Every time her sister mentioned Bran, Maggie had to remember this person had become a fixture in her sister’s life. But to Maggie, he was no one. Another stranger. She didn’t care what he or his mom had to say.
She reminded herself that her sister was only trying to help. “Thanks.”
“A therapist could help. Maybe he could fix some things in your life.”
Her lips formed a thin line. People used terms like fix because she was so obviously broken. No one wanted to acknowledge that some breaks were permanent and unfixable.
“Perrin, I’m mourning. My husband died. Grief takes time. I’m sorry if my inability to get back out there is hard for you, but trust me when I say, it’s harder on me. I’m the one who’s broken, and sleeping with someone else isn’t going to fix me.”
Her sister recoiled at the verbal slap. “I’m only trying to help you, only suggesting you talk to a therapist. I’m not suggesting you have sex with someone. But I think you need to socialize more, Maggie. All you do is go to work and the cemetery. Socializing, even with a professional, could help your progress. You have to get out of this house.”
“I like it here.”
Perrin’s head turned, her gaze traveling over the unchanged signs of Nash. “It’s dark and quiet. Why don’t you turn on some lights or play some music?”
“I like the quiet.” She dropped her gaze to her coffee cup.
Perrin slid a business card across the surface of the table, into Maggie’s view. “I just think it would help if you talked to someone.”
“I talk to people.”
“Who?”
“Well, you’re here. And I talk to people at work. I had to buy some things in town the other day. I was polite and said hello to those who waved.”
“But maybe it’s time to talk about the things you’re afraid to say.” Perrin slid the card another inch, until it nudged Maggie’s fingertips peeking from the clipped edges of her wool gloves. “Just think about it.”
The black ink beveled under her fingertips, raised to the touch. Dr. Alec Devereux. Sounded pretentious. “I’ll think about it.”
Her sister smiled, and she hated giving her false hope. “Thank you.”
Maggie stood and pinned the card on the corkboard above the trash can where the house keys hung. Her gaze swung to the window where the FOR SALE sign in the neighbor’s yard stood, and she did a double take.