As morning came there was no more confusion, only fear. I was panicked dialing his number. Hello? He answered right away. Hey babe. I tried to sound chipper. Whatcha up to today? Picking up the kids and visiting with my family. He stated simply. Your brother in town or something? Yea. They planned a dinner tonight. Youre welcome to join. Im not quite ready for that. I didnt know what all hed divulged to them and I wasnt about to find out. But can I see you today? Sure. We can do lunch at Olive Garden…. Or should I come to the house? No Olive Garden sounds great. Noonish ok? Noon it is. His voice had brightened. Cant wait. Good, see you then. Love you. I love you too babe. From the time I hung up the phone till the time I was ready to leave I pondered what I would say. I had an entire speech full of apologies running through my head. If I had to get on my knees and beg for forgiveness then so be it. Our love had to be enough to conquer all this. I hoped. My nerves were getting the. Finances were not a worry for her.So five days a week, young boys and girls filed in and out of her front door with sheet music stuck under their arms. Music, it seemed, became the backdrop of our neighborhood. At any given time, Mozart or Ravel could be heard wafting over the backyard fences.When my wife was at home dying of cancer, she always wanted her window opened just a crack just so she could hear the melodies (no matter how badly they were sometimes performed.)She died in April at the age of twenty-nine. Camelia brought a pan of chicken spaghetti over after the funeral. She sat on the sofa and cried - partly for my loss and partly for her own. Then, she went home to her empty house and I remained home alone in mine.For the months that followed, I threw myself into my work - often not arriving home until late at night. Before going to bed, I would have a single glass of wine while standing on the back deck looking up at the stars and licking the wounds of loneliness. More.
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