Chapter 3
The door clicked shut.
The latch fell into place with a sound like a guillotine.
The police officers remained for a moment.
They checked the perimeter.
They made sure the gates were locked.
"Are you going to be alright here, ma'am?" the female officer asked.
I looked around the house.
It was still Bradley’s house.
But for the first time,
it felt like mine.
"I’m going to be fine," I said.
"Lock the gate when you leave."
The sound of their cruiser pulling away was the most beautiful music I had ever heard.
I stood in the entryway.
I was still wearing my funeral dress.
The black silk felt like a shroud.
I walked into the living room.
It was cluttered with their greed.
Suitcases sat open like hungry mouths.
Labels were stuck to fine art and antique vases.
I didn't feel like a victor.
I felt like a woman who had just survived a storm.
I picked up a label from a vase.
It said 'Marjorie.'
I peeled it off.
I balled it up in my fist.
I walked to the kitchen.
I grabbed a trash bag from under the sink.
I started going through the house.
Every label.
Every bag.
Every pile of 'assets.'
I swept it all into the plastic.
My hands moved with a mechanical precision.
I didn't think about the value of the items.
I thought about the intention behind the theft.
They had tried to erase me.
They had tried to scrub my presence from Bradley’s life.
Well,
I wasn't erasable.
I finished the living room.
I moved to the study.
I saw Bradley’s desk.
His chair was still positioned where he had left it.
I sat down in the chair.
I breathed in the smell of his old paper and tobacco.
The tears finally came.
They didn't come when I was facing Marjorie.
They didn't come when I was talking to the police.
They came now,
in the quiet of his sanctuary.
I cried until my ribs ached.
I cried for the man who was gone.
I cried for the family who had turned into vultures.
I cried because the house was too big,
and the silence was too loud.
I realized then that Bradley had given me the house,
but he hadn't given me a way to live in it without him.
He had protected me from the vultures,
but he couldn't protect me from the grief.
I stood up and went to the window.
The moon was full,
casting long, eerie shadows across the garden.
I saw a figure standing by the gate.
My breath hitched.
Was it Declan?
Had he come back?
I leaned closer to the glass.
It was just a tree,
swaying in the wind.
I was jumpy.
I was paranoid.
I needed to change the locks.
I needed a security system.
I needed to become the person Bradley clearly thought I could be.
I walked back to the living room.
I saw the watch on the side table.
I picked it up.
I put it on my wrist.
It was far too big,
but I tightened the strap as much as I could.
It felt like a promise.
I would hold the line.
I would wait for the next wave.
I would be the widow who didn't back down.
I went to the bedroom.
I finally took off the funeral dress.
I put on my sweatpants and a thick sweater.
I lay down in our bed.
I pulled the duvet over my head.
I listened to the house.
It was creaking,
settling,
sighing.
May you like
It was a house of memories.
I was going to keep every single one of them.
