The Hollows

 There is nothing to fear. He thought about it for a moment. It wasn't the first time he had heard that phrase ,or a variation of it. Why did it come to mind now? It was mid-morning. He was in no rush for anything, and he hadn't had to work in years. When he worked, he would usually get up early, just before dawn most of the time. He enjoyed the smell of coffee spreading from the kitchen. His wife was alive back then. He used to let her sleep in a little so he'd have some time to himself and give her some extra rest. That was all in the past. Her clothes were still in the closet and drawers. He'd never had the strength to get rid of her. Some part of him still wanted to imagine he'd walk into another room and see her. It never happened. He never thought he'd be a widower. 

When Ophelia passed everyone had him in their thoughts and prayers. Everyone wanted him to know that if needed absolutely anything, to just ask. They all meant well. He just wanted her back. He wanted to be left alone. He got that, eventually. People reached out, wanted to be in touch, but he never reached back, and eventually, they stopped altogether.

He looked out the kitchen window and saw that it was shaping up to be a very beautiful day. "Maybe I'll take a walk later", he thought to himself. 

After his simple oatmeal breakfast and tea he sat in their living room to read one of the books he'd checked out from the library. It was a book about an Earth where people had developed a cheap and easy technology that allowed them to travel to parallel Earths that were largely free of people. "Just imagine", he thought, "...if this were real." He knew what would happen if it existed. It would be the Wild West all over again on an unprecedented scale. People and companies racing to lay claim and strip the resources of these worlds for the benefit of this one. That's what we've done. That's what we've always done. 

Ding-dong. The doorbell rang in that classic way that everyone has heard. It was unusual. Jim Grey, the mailman, never rang, even if he had a large package to deliver. He'd just leave it on the doorstep. He never got solicitors, it was too out of the way to be worth their time. Who was it?

He looked through the keyhole. He was just as surprised at who it was as he was at hearing the door bell. It was Melanie. He opened the door and immediately heard her voice for the first time in a few years."Oh my God! Elliot! I'm so happy to see you!" She reached in and hugged him. It took him a few seconds but he put his arms around her and squeezed. 

After he invited her in he fixed her up a cup of Earl Grey tea with a lump of sugar and just a splash of cream, just how she always liked it. He set the cup in front of her. She looked at him and said, "You still remember." He smiled. "Of course I do."

"I'll be honest, Elliot, I didn't think you'd answer. I haven't heard from you in so long. No one has." That simple fact hung in the air. A pause. A declarative. "You know, Mel, when Ophelia passed away I just didn't know what to do. I didn't want anything. I didn't want anyone around. Everyone was so kind but I couldn't deal with everyone else's expectations of my grief." He took a long breath in and let it out slowly. "I didn't mean to shut everyone out the way I did. It just happened. I don't blame anyone for giving up on me." She picked up the cup from the saucer and took a sip. He never ceased to be amazed at the grace in even the smallest things Mel did. It's just how she'd always been as long he had known her. 

"Elliot. Frank died two years ago. I don't know if you'd heard. So yes, I understand." His stomach dropped. Frank had once been one of his best friends. "It was cancer. When the doctors found it it was already at stage four. They told him with treatment he could have another six to eight months. He didn't go for it. He wanted to live out the days he had left at home with me. They gave him medications for the pain and sent him on his way." This was the price of his sorrow. 

"I'm so sorry, Mel." He reached out for her hand and held it in his. She placed her other hand over his. "I've made peace with Frank's passing. The hardest part was getting rid of his old clothes. I donated most of them to the Goodwill. I did keep a few small things for me, like a couple of his favorite hoodies. You know how he would never go anywhere without wearing one of those damn things." She laughed, just a little bit, saying those words out loud. 

"You know, I've never been able to bring myself to get rid of any of Ophelia's clothes. I've left them in the closet and drawers." She looked at him with compassion, "Oh, Elliot". He thought for a moment. "Would you like to see the closet?" She nodded. Ophelia had a keen eye for always picking out clothes that would look great on her. They weren't necessarily expensive designer pieces, though she had a couple, but they fit her well and suited her personality. He led her to the bedroom and opened the walk-in closet. 

Melanie had always admired Ophelia. She did her best to make sure that she and Frank were there for Elliot after she had passed. Elliot eventually let the waves wash him out to sea. 

He watched Mel as she walked into the closet. Her hand fell upon the red dress that Ophelia had worn at the twentieth anniversary party they had thrown for themselves. Mel remembered feeling just a little envious that night as she watched them dancing across the floor. How could someone so happy in their own marriage feel this way?

"If you want to try any of her clothes on you're more than welcome to. She always thought the world of you." His words hung between them. "Are you sure? Wouldn't that be a little weird for you?" He thought for a moment. "Sometimes it feels like I've been living with her ghost longer than she was alive. I know that's not true, but if you want to see if anything fits then you're more than welcome to try anything on. I wouldn't mind seeing a little part of her being around." She nodded at him and he closed the door behind him.

He sat on the couch and picked up yesterday's newspaper. He hadn't finished reading the article about the current state of the public schools in the state. He always admired Mel's beauty. She didn't like to use much make-up, just enough to highlight her features. 

He heard the doorknob turn as the hinges on the door creaked slightly. Her footsteps were light John the hardwood floor. She stood in front of him with her hands on her hips. The dress fit her just so. The corners of his mouth turned up. "You look just as wonderful as Ophelia did when she wore that at our anniversary party." She tugged at her hips. "I feel like I just barely fit into this dress. She had such a great fashion sense. I always admired that about her."

Mel sat down next to Elliot on the couch. "I don't think I've ever stopped mourning her. When I got home from the service I just didn't feel right being alone at home but I didn't have anywhere else to go, and I really didn't want to be a bother to anyone."

"When Frank died I was besides myself with grief. Everywhere I looked he was there. I had to give my grief it's own space. It carved out a space in me. It carved and carved until I felt like a shell. If it had carved anymore I would have collapsed. you know what I did, Elliot? I started to fill that space up bit by bit. I had to keep living. Frank wouldn't have wanted me to mourn forever. He wanted me to keep living. To find new joy. To do more because I could. It was hard. It was so hard. I was crying my eyes out when I bagged up all his clothes and donated them. But I did." 

"If I had known, I would have reached out, Mel. I'm so fucking sorry."

"Don't be. just don't" He could see the rivers of tears that had flowed down her face.

"I wanted to see you because I wanted you to know. I only regret it took me so long to get here. I know you understand."

"I remember the night of our anniversary party she told me how much you loved the dress. I think you should have it. She would have wanted to see it out in the world and not just sitting in the closet."

"You sure?" she said.

"Yes." A wave of silence sat between them. An understanding that needed no language and could fill all the hollows.

11/18/22