“It sounds perfect.” It astonished her how much this invitation excited her. It’d been ages since she’d had something special to look forward to. Seeing that the invitation had come from her son made it even more special.
“I better head to work,” Nick said, as he stood from the table and delivered his empty coffee cup to the kitchen sink. “I’ll come by tomorrow at six. Be ready, okay?”
“Of course, and after dinner you can take home those enchiladas.”
His eyes lit up. “My favorite. Thanks, Mom.” Nick kissed her cheek before he headed out the door.
Both excited and hesitant, Joan went straight to her bedroom closet to check what she had to wear for a night out. As she passed the full-length mirror on the closet door, she did a double take. No wonder her son had given her that strange look when he’d first arrived. She looked dreadful. She hadn’t combed her hair and had dressed in old jeans and a Seahawks sweatshirt that had faded from multiple washings. She wore slippers and hadn’t so much as put on lipstick. The contrast was striking, even to her, from the days she’d gone into the office with Jared. It used to be that she took pride in her appearance.
It used to be with a lot of things, she admitted. So much had changed, and not for the good.
Rather than stare at her reflection, she hung her head, embarrassed by the lack of attention to herself and how much of her personal appearance she’d let slide. This was the third day in a row that she’d worn the same tattered jeans and the faded sweatshirt.
Other than to step onto the porch to collect the mail, it’d been a week since she’d ventured outside. It used to be she had the most beautiful yard on the block. She was known for her love of flowers. Now it was rare for her to venture outside the house. So much loss, so much grief. Even the pride she had in herself had fallen by the wayside. Little wonder Nick had looked at her as if he didn’t recognize her as his mother. Joan barely recognized her own reflection, let alone the woman she’d become.
It was then that she remembered the birthday gift from Emmie. No better time for a hair appointment than before a dinner date with her son. Refusing to continue berating herself, Joan headed to the dresser, where she’d left Emmie’s birthday card. Opening it, she reached for the gift certificate and felt almost giddy. She was going out, and when she did, she planned to be dressed to the nines, whatever that meant. First things first, she needed an appointment, and went in search of her phone. She had a bad habit of leaving it all over the house. It took several minutes to locate it on the en suite bathroom counter.
As she swept it up, her gaze fell on the unmade bed, and it stopped her cold. While working, she’d never left the house unless the dishwasher was empty of clean dishes. And the bed made. Never. Somehow, without even realizing it, she’d let the little things that had at one time been important slide along with everything else, including her appearance.
With a vengeance, she set aside the phone and hurried around the king-size bed and put it to order, placing the decorator pillows in place. They’d been tucked in the corner for weeks, abandoned and forgotten, which was how Joan felt most days.
Once she was finished, she felt a small sense of accomplishment. She retrieved the phone and sat on the edge of the mattress while she went through her contact list for Cutting Edge salon. The receptionist answered, and Joan realized how ridiculous she was being. It was doubtful she’d get an appointment on such short notice. Charlene was often booked weeks ahead. How foolish of her to think her friend would alter her schedule at the last minute for her.
“Hello,” the receptionist repeated.
“Oh, sorry,” Joan said, realizing she hadn’t spoken. “This is Joan Sample, and I’d like to make an appointment with Charlene for a cut and style.” On the spur of the moment, she decided to leave the gray. She’d earned those silver hairs and she wasn’t going to hide them. It was what it was.
“Charlene doesn’t have anything available in the next two weeks. When would you like the appointment?”
Exactly what Joan suspected. “I thought that might be the case.”
Apparently, she didn’t hide her disappointment well, because the receptionist continued, “We have a new girl, Bailey. She’s very good and she has several openings, if you’re looking for something sooner.”
If she waited two weeks for Charlene, Joan feared she’d find an excuse to cancel. “I don’t suppose Bailey has an opening for tomorrow afternoon?” It was almost too much to hope for.
“She had a cancellation just this morning. Would three o’clock work for you?”
“It would. Yes, that’d be perfect.”
“Great. I’ll put you down. We look forward to seeing you tomorrow at three for a cut and style, Joan.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“My pleasure,” the pleasant young woman said before disconnecting the call.
Joan felt like skipping around her bedroom. Once and for all, she was going to get control of this dustmop that was her current hairstyle. Enough was enough. It was a small thing and yet it felt like a huge accomplishment.
Next, she checked out her closet and spent several minutes shuffling hangers from one side to the other before she chose a silk blouse with a flower pattern that had a simple tie at the neck. The navy-blue skirt had been one of Jared’s favorites. He had never failed to compliment her when she wore it.
An unexpected wave of grief hit her, nearly swamped her with a profound sense of loss. The excitement she’d so recently enjoyed left her as quickly as it’d come, leaving her bereft. It was the little things she missed most about her life with Jared. The shared smiles, the jokes that meant nothing to anyone else but that would send them both into fits of laughter. His gentle touch before he turned out the light each night, his words of love and appreciation. All that had been taken from her, and she didn’t know if she could find a future without him being part of it.
Jared was the love of her life. They met in college and from the day they’d been introduced there had been no one else. They were meant to be together. It wasn’t half a life without him. It was no life. A mere existence.
Swallowing down the self-pity, Joan returned to the kitchen, determined not to allow herself to sink into the black hole of emotions. Tears threatened, which she furiously blinked back. Since Jared’s death, Joan had wept buckets and often woke at night, even now, her cheeks wet as she stirred awake. She carried her grief like lead weights around her heart. Some days the pain was so intense, she wondered why his loss hadn’t killed her.
It was noon before she was hungry. She turned on the local news, although she didn’t know why. All that was reported was the weather, traffic difficulties, and updates on the continuous crime spree. While half-listening to the reporter, she studied the puzzle as she munched on an apple, which she dipped in peanut butter. That was the way Steve, her older son, preferred to eat his apples. Joan had to agree it was a good way to mix fruit and protein. Thinking about her older son brought to mind their last conversation. It’d felt as if he couldn’t get off the phone fast enough. It disturbed her. At another time she would have asked what happened with him and Zoe. She’d been comfortable to let the conversation slide and regretted that now.