The sunny morning pushed through the open widow, bowing the curtains and carrying the aroma of warm soil and the sound of a distant lawnmower. Karen didn't care if the calendar said she was a week early; as far as she was concerned, today was the first day of spring. The last of Ed's things were wrapped neatly and stuffed into bags by the door. The Banana Republic bags were going to the goodwill shop at the hospital. The Victoria's Secret bag would be dumped. She finally had to admit that Ed was gone, and that holding onto a few of his sweaters, jeans, and bits and pieces of memories wasn't going to bring him back. Her friends told her she was better off without him, but letting go wasn't that easy. She wasn't like her friends. She felt things more deeply, maybe too deeply.
Karen gathered up the bags, a little surprised by their weight, and left her apartment.
When she reached the street a sense of accomplishment coursed through her. It was the first day she could go out comfortably without a coat. Her arms swung boldly, buoyed by the weighted bags. Spring really was in the air. At the corner of the hospital an elderly Italian man stopped Karen. He waved a ticket in one hand and pointed at a parked K car with the other.
"Excuse me. Can you read this? I can't see how much asposed to pay."
"Sure." Karen cocked her head and scanned the slip of paper. "I think they intentionally make these things hard to read."
"I was only a minute late, maybe two. I was in the hospital to see my wife--her leg is not so good--and I ran out with the change, but the ticket, it was already here. I was only a few minutes late."
"You have to be careful around here. The police are like vultures--oh, here it is. Ten dollars." The check mark next to the box was barely visible.
"Ten dollars," the old man sighed. "That's not so bad. But I wasn't even five minutes late."
He thanked her. Karen wished his wife good luck and continued down the street.
He seemed very sweet. The thought of an old man, visiting his ill wife in a hospital should have depressed her, but it didn't, not on a day this beautiful. They had each other. That was a nice thought. Someday I'll find something like that.
The bell over the door jangled as Karen entered the goodwill store. She brought her bags to the counter, and an old woman in a blue smock took them with a smile. She reached for the Victoria's Secret, but Karen held onto it and said, "Just those two."
The old woman took her time, removing the shirts and sweaters. Karen noticed her name was stitched over her pocket with yellow thread: ROSE. She wished Rose would hurry up and give her a receipt, so she could get on with the day. The air in the store was stale. It smelled of dusty clothes and widows' loneliness.
At last Rose tore a receipt from a pad, stamped it once and held it out to Karen with an unsteady head.
Karen took it. Rose said something about saving it for her taxes, but Karen was already heading for the door with her last bag.
She took her time going to the park. Since it was a weekday, the playing fields and running paths were unusually empty. As she followed the trail and listened to the narrow brook slide by her, a runner passed. He said excuse me between gasps. Karen flashed him a shy smile, and watched his lean legs carry him around the next bend. He had a very tight butt.
I could date a man who runs, she thought. Ed didn't exercise regularly, but sometimes he played basketball with his friends from work. Once or twice, Karen watched the games, but Ed didn't like her hanging around. Looking back, that was probably the first sign of his distance, his coldness. If she dated a runner, she could exercise with him. Maybe she'd even buy a nice running suit, something a little baggy until she lost a few pounds. Later she'd buy those spandex tights.
Halfway across a short footbridge, Karen stopped and leaned against the railing. She gazed at the slow, dark water and thought of Rose and her sweet Italian husband. Karen knew that someday, she'd find happiness like them. On a day as beautiful and clean as this, all things seemed possible. It was too bad about Rose's leg, though. She paused. That didn't seem right. Did the woman in the goodwill shop have a bad leg? She couldn't remember. Sometimes she got things confused.
Karen reached into the bag and removed Ed's heart, which was sealed in Ziplock bag. It was the size of a fist, frozen black and solid. She stared at it blankly for a moment, then started to giggle. A heart was a funny looking thing. So much is written about them, people make such a big deal about them and love; but at a moment like this it's a silly, almost absurd little thing. Wouldn't it be funny if they put real hearts on Valentine's Day cards? People don't want to know the truth about hearts and love. She let go and the heart disappeared into the water with a gentle ploop.
The head, sealed in a clear plastic bag, looked like a giant corrupted plum. Karen was happy, almost proud, that she felt nothing looking at the face.
Granted, few of Ed's features were still recognizable in the black puddles and bloat, but she knew she was over him, long over him. She loosened the yellow twist tie and let the bag drop. The head rested on the water for a moment, the empty eyes gazing up at her. It rocked gently as it took on water and began to sink. It seemed to be nodding. Yes, Karen, you're over me, it seemed to say.
When the face had vanished into the murk, Karen picked up the Victoria's Secret bag, folded it crisply and left the bridge. The man she had seen earlier was stretching after his run. He had taken off his shirt and was using it to swab sweat off of his well muscled torso. He was handsome, very handsome, and he had such sad brown eyes. She could tell that he was different from Ed. Karen knew she shouldn't get involved with someone so soon. She could hear her friends warning her to take her time, but Karen was different, and she felt things so deeply.
Copyright © 2003 Geof Smith.