Desire Stirring
by
Tragudis
Langley Funeral Home is crowded. No surprise, Dave Hartley was a very popular fellow. He had lots of friends and two older brothers. He also had a wife, Shannon, and two daughters, Natalie age nine, and Merl age twelve. A tearful Shannon stands off to the side of the carpeted room, greeting those who have come to pay their respects. A slideshow video plays on a screen set up on one wall. There's Dave in happier times, healthy times, before the onset of the cancer that took his life at forty-nine. Some mourners find it hard to watch, because many of the scenes show Dave with his girls, hugging them, playing with them.
The girls seem to be okay, at least for now. They're in the back of the room, mingling with their friends. Shannon does her best to hold up as her tears flow. People walk up, hug her, say a few words and move on. Funerals might be the most awkward of social gatherings. We grope, sometimes agonize over what to say and how to say it. Nothing's appropriate, and yet just about everything is. What do you say to a still young woman (forty-three) who just lost her husband?
Roy Lerner isn't sure. He's known Shannon for close to thirty years, when she was barely into her teens. He'd see her at family gatherings because she's actually a distant cousin by marriage, a connection so convoluted, he's given up trying to explain it to those who ask. Roy, in his late forties, is a divorced dad of two sons, both grown. He'd like to one day marry again. Truth to tell, he's had his eye on the comely Shannon since she was a leggy middle school student. He's feeling somewhat guilty even thinking that Dave's death has granted him a possible opportunity to get closer to her. The woman's husband has just been laid to rest, for Chrissake! And yet...
He stands a few yards away, wearing his business casual, blue blazer over khakis and loafers, watching her greet the people. She looks uninhibited in her teary display of grief, yet strong at the same time. She's got to be strong, what with two girls to raise alone and a demanding job to hold down. Shannon's an oncology nurse, of all things, and Roy wonders who will take care of her while she takes care of her patients. Well, here goes, he thinks, and steps up to her. She reaches out, and he nearly buries her five-foot-five slender form in his bulky six-foot-two. While she's still in his arms, he kisses her on the side of her head, his lips connecting with her hair, long, silky and dark brown; hair he could get lost in. She smells good, he thinks, so fresh and clean, like she just took a shower, like she might have smelled for Dave before they made love. Of course, he's got enough sense not to say that. Instead, he says, "I'm so sorry for your loss. We don't know each other that well, but if you ever need someone to talk to, don't hesitate to call me." He slips her his business card, more of an appointment card he carries in his wallet.
She nods, even manages to smile. "Thanks for coming," she says.
He backs away, sticks around for another few moments, then leaves for his day job as an orthopedist. His thoughts meander as he drives for work. He doubts she'll ever call. Her brothers-in-law appear supportive and she's got enough friends and family to give her solace. Her mom's still living but her dad, the distinguished professor of English Lit, in one of life's cruel ironies, died of the same cancer that killed Dave. That's life, right? So wonderful at times, so cruel and shitty other times. Who can figure it out? Or, maybe there isn't anything to figure out. God works in mysterious ways, some will say. Not Roy, who gave up attributing life's causes to the All Mighty a long time ago. If there is a superior being—and Roy's not fully convinced either way—he's a gross underachiever as someone once said. He wonders what Shannon thinks, wonders if she's trying to make sense of why this happened, beyond the clinical. Like he told her at the funeral home, he doesn't know her well enough to even venture a guess.
Her marriage to Dave was also somewhat of a mystery to him. Dave came from a working-class background. He was a contractor, made good money when he worked, when the season called for building backyard decks or when the economy was good enough for homeowners to redo their kitchens and bathrooms. Dave never went to college, unlike Shannon who earned a four-year degree, plus a degree in nursing. Dave's two brothers are also contractors, while Rick, Shannon's brother, a computer tech whiz, earned a degree from prestigious Cal Tech on full scholarship.
Roy also knows how they met—at a pool hall, of all places, a cultural incongruity in Shannon's case, it seems to him. Seeing Shannon at family gatherings, Roy sometimes got the impression that hooking up with Dave was a form of rebellion against the intellectual, studious background from whence she came. But then he also sensed that Shannon had this bad girl edge to her, one rarely seen in the cultural milieu her brother and her dad traveled around in. Whatever her psychology, her union with Dave had worked well enough for the two of them to stay together and raise two children until Dave passed away. Now she's alone, her support system notwithstanding. But she'll do okay, he believes. She's strong and earns decent money, not to mention that she's retained her youthful cute sexiness into her forties. He'd almost bet she'll once again find a special man in her life. Quality women like Shannon don't stay single for long, not unless they want to.
*****
Diving into another relationship is not on Shannon Hartley's priority list. Number one is staying strong for Natalie and Merl. She doesn't have the "luxury" of breaking down every time she feels like it, and these days, she feels like it just about all the time. She does her crying after she leaves work and after her girls are tucked into bed. She's exhausted, physically and emotionally. The strain of taking care of Dave in his final months have taken a heavy toll. Dave died in hospice care, only days after entering. Her last memories of him alive are hearing him struggle to say his final words. "I love you. Take care of our babies."
She was Merl's age when her dad died of the same thing that took Dave. The same damn thing! She remembers Jean, her mom, carrying on, doing what she had to do; she became Shannon and Rick's tower of strength. Once a housewife, Jean went to work as a secretary for the county school system, earning enough to support the three of them, even enough, with savings, to keep up with the mortgage on their suburban rancher. Shannon's no stranger to adversity, but she never dreamed of one day facing the same kind of adversity. Yet here she is. She's tired of hearing well-meaning friends telling her how unfair life is. She knows it all too well, knew it when her dad died.
She keeps busy. She makes the girls' lunches, gets them off to school, puts in her shift at the hospital, then helps them with their homework and kisses them goodnight. "You're our mom AND dad now," Natalie said to her just days after the funeral.
Jean never remarried, never even dated much during her widowhood. She never found much time for dating and besides, Lester had been the love of her life, irreplaceable, she thought. "But don't be like me," Jean tells Shannon. "You're still young and pretty, and after a year or so of grieving, you might want a man in your life. Not necessarily one to marry, but one to fulfill needs we all have, including me. But I was overly stubborn, proud to the point of silly. Don't be like me."
Shannon puts the advice on a back burner. Like her mom did after she became a widow, Shannon takes things one day at a time, doing her best to get through each day. She still cries, even manages to joke about it with friends. "I've got to have at least one good cry every day," she says. "It's now part of my daily routine, like my yoga and jogging. Wouldn't miss it for the world."
Her career actually helps. She sees sick people every day, some with the type of cancer that took Dave. But caring for others helps take her mind off her own problems, including the heartache that leaves her perpetually aggrieved, though not so aggrieved that she can't function. On the contrary, she functions quite well at her job and at home. Keeping busy. She does, one day at a time, week in, week out, month in, month out. Months later, she's able to socialize with friends, meeting them for lunch or dinner, while her mom babysits. "By the way," Jean informs her one day, "I've heard through the family grapevine that Roy Lerner's been asking about you, concerned about how you're doing."
"Roy Lerner, the doctor?"
"Right."
Shannon remembers his warm hug and his invite to talk. "Well, okay."
"Honey, not to get pushy, but it sounds like he's interested in you. If you know what I mean."
Shannon sighs. "Mom, I'm not ready for that."
