Sarah was getting more frustrated each minute. Now she was in the lane behind a Bi-State Bus! The bus seemed to stop at every corner and always took up both lanes. She couldn’t pass and she felt like the watch on her wrist was shouting the time to her.
She was supposed to be at Mary’s house by 12:30 for lunch. Sarah was always a bit late, so Mary knew not to expect her before 12:40 or maybe even 12:45. But it was already 1:04 and the bus was stopping again!
She hit her horn out of frustration. It wouldn’t make the bus move any faster, but it made her feel better. She was still at least five minutes from Sarah’s. No doubt Sarah had a gourmet lunch for her. Some people could garden, some people were wonderful with their children, and some people could do just about anything. Mary knew that she was good with legal matters. She was one of the better young attorneys in the office, but that was about it. She was still single so she didn’t know how she’d be with children of her own, and she had to admit, other people’s kids made her nervous. And she couldn’t cook at all. But Sarah was a wonderful cook.
She’d known Sarah for almost a year now. They had met at an exercise class. Two women going downhill towards thirty, fighting to be something they never were. They had gone together to aerobics three times a week for six months. After a while they realized that it really wasn’t making any difference. Mary remembered the night that she and Sarah both admitted to one another that the only reason they were putting themselves through the grind was that they were afraid to let the other down. They’d laughed and opened a bottle of wine to celebrate. Sarah even took their leotards and burned them in the barbecue pit on the balcony. She called their “liberation bonfire!”
And then Sarah’s husband, Ed, had died suddenly. Mary hadn’t really known him well. He had a job where he traveled quite a bit. He mostly was home on Mondays and weekends. He seemed like a nice sort, Mary thought. But she also noticed how much quieter Sarah was when he was around.
“Damn,” she thought, “here’s my chance.” The Bi-State bus had actually pulled over to the curb to pick up an older lady. Mary gunned the Saab and shot past the listing bus. She made a left turn on Union Avenue, two more turns, and she was there.
Panting from frustration, without even locking her car, Mary ran up the steps to Sarah’s apartment. It might have been her imagination, but she could smell something wonderfully spicy wafting into the stairwell. She tapped on the stained glass panel in the door.
“Just a minute,” Sarah’s voice called from inside the apartment. Mary sighed and leaned against the wall. There was something funny about Ed, but she could never put her finger on it. Sarah and he were happy, but something wasn’t right.
The door opened and there was Sarah, perfect as ever. She was wearing a red apron that said, “At these prices, don’t complain.” Her black hair was pulled back in a bun, just like she used to wear it for exercise class.
“I’m sorry, I…” Mary began.
“Say no more,” said Sarah, pulling her inside the apartment. “I knew you’d be late so I’ve had the casserole on warm. Now I’ll go turn it up. We’ll eat in no time!”
Mary relaxed and gave Sarah a hug. She felt a bit guilty for not having come to see her sooner. Mary had been out of town when Ed died, and as soon as she heard the news she called Sarah, but the funeral was already over. It had been a private service, Sarah said, and they hadn’t even published Ed’s death in the papers. Mary remembered Sarah’s comment, “We’re from out of town, so no one really knows us, except you. Ed’s business is still really stationed in Atlanta. Besides, it’d be too depressing to be at a funeral home and not have anyone even come.” Apparently there wasn’t any family for either of them. Mary hadn’t understood all of this, but that’s what friends are for, she thought, to accept even when they don’t understand.
“Now have a seat on the couch, and I’ll be back in a minute. I’ve already poured you a glass of wine.” And Sarah was gone. Mary could hear her rustling around in the kitchen, and she took the opportunity to lean back on the couch and close her eyes.
“Why hadn’t she gone to see her sooner?” she wondered. Growing up, she’d never really knew anyone who had died. In her early twenties there were a couple of family deaths, old relatives, and a young cousin who had tragically died in an auto crash. There were rumors that he was drunk. The car had gone off of the highway at three-something in the morning, and there were four empty beer cans in the front seat, but nothing was ever proven. At least Mary hadn’t heard about it.
After Ed’s death, Sarah had called her twice to chat, and they had talked quite a bit the second time, but Mary had felt awkward coming over to visit. She had asked Sarah about starting up exercise class again, but Sarah didn’t want to do that.
Her thoughts were broken by the sound of a small bell. Sarah was in the doorway, without her apron, beckoning her to the table. “Why this is beautiful,” Mary said, and it was true. The place settings and food looked like something out of a magazine. Sarah was an extraordinary cook.
They sat and began to eat, two friends who hadn’t seen enough of one another lately. They talked about the tasty dinner (“one of my favorite recipes,” said Sarah), the weather, clothing, politics, and their true common interest, Mel Gibson.
Afterwards, Sarah cleared the plates and it was time for some decaf coffee. Finally, Mary could stand it no more. She blurted out, “Sarah, how in the world can you go on like this without Ed?”
The silence grew louder with each passing second. Sarah said nothing. She swallowed, and gently wiped her lips with a pink napkin. “It’s as if he never left. That’s because he really hasn’t.”
Mary felt terribly awkward and started to apologize, but Sarah cut her off. “No, I’m glad you brought it up, Mary,” she said. “You’ve been distant lately, and I know that Ed’s death has bothered you. You haven’t known how to treat me, have you?”
Mary nodded, unable to say anything. Sarah continued, almost in a whisper. “Ed and I were very close, even though he wasn’t here much. While his death was sudden, we were prepared for it. While we were dating we spent lots of time talking about death and how to go on when the other person wasn’t around. We actually made a pact of things to do to keep the other’s memory alive. I never told you this,” Sarah took a deep breath, “but we used to fool around with Satanism when we first met. The Night Church believes in preparing for and accepting death in a different way than you’re probably used to.” Sarah suddenly stood and grabbed Mary’s arm.
“Here, come with me,” she said, and pulled Mary forcefully to the hall and into a room. “This was Ed’s room. See!” Mary looked and saw a room that was clearly masculine, pennants from athletic teams, a couple of old clocks, and a soiled light blue sweater on a chair in front of a computer.
“That’s Ed’s sweater,” Sarah said, “I haven’t cleaned it, I haven’t moved anything in this room since his spirit left.” Sarah paused, but Mary said nothing. Sarah continued, her speech coming a bit more rapidly. “Each morning I bring Ed his juice and toast, just like I did the days that he was home. Of course, he doesn’t eat or drink it, but that’s ok. I feel good bringing it to him. His flesh is gone, but his spirit is still here in this apartment. Can you feel him now?” Mary didn’t know what to say, but Sarah wasn’t waiting for an answer.
“Come look at our bedroom,” Sarah went on, “I have his pajamas laid out like I used to do, and…” but Mary could hear her no more. Sarah had her arm in hand and was steering Mary down the hall, talking, but the words were a blur. This was a side of Sarah that she’d never seen, and it scared her.
They were almost running down the hall now, and suddenly Mary knew she couldn’t go on. “Stop. STOP” she shouted at Sarah. They both froze and then Mary began to back away very slowly.
Moving towards the door, Mary spoke to Sarah. “I know that you’re under a great deal of pressure. And I’m sure that all of this helps you, but it makes me very uncomfortable. Ed’s dead and I don’t want to see his clothes or hear about food you prepare for him.”
Sarah interrupted, “But his spirit is still with us and the flesh doesn’t matter.”
“I know, I know,” said Mary, leaving the apartment. “I’m sure I’ll be fine in a couple of days, but this is just more than I can take now. I never really knew Ed and that’s the way I want to leave it.” The door slammed and Sarah sat on the couch. This evening certainly hadn’t gone the way she’d hoped, she thought. She had felt that there was something special about Mary and this was to be her introduction. Maybe she’d wait a week or so and try again. But then she smiled, because the evening wasn’t a total loss. Mary had gotten to know Ed more than she could ever imagine, thought Sarah. After all, Mary had asked for a second helping of her “family recipe” casserole. That was good, because there was lots more of Ed in the freezer in the basement.
