CW: strong language, grief, grief over loss, grief over death, suicidal thought(s)?, drinking, consumption of alcohol
The vault elevator jerked as it began descending. The doors overhead closed, plunging Nora into a comforting darkness. The chill didn't sink into her bones the way it had before. The pod door opened with ease and she let Nate's frozen weight fall on her and did her best to gently lower him onto the wooden cart.
She was in the dark elevator again listening to the rattling of the cart as she ascended with her husband from the vault. What did his laugh sound like? Her mind went blank and then panic. Keep it together Nora. You have this final act to carry out. Don't screw this up now.
The vault doors above opened and the sun struck her. The heat helped her come back into the present, to what needed to be done. She considered the incline of the hill and opted to wheel the cart backwards with her pulling the bar and heading down backwards herself. She didn't want the whole thing to go careening down into the creek below.
Slow and steady here Nora. Patience will get this done right. Keep your eyes on the ground where you're stepping. Focus on the task. She was almost all the way down and her heel landed on a loose rock. She fell forward into the bar knocking the wind out of her. The dolly went left and spilled the wedded couple unceremoniously onto the dirt. Nora cut her temple on a sharp rock. "God dammit," she yelled scrambling to stop Nate's body from rolling away. She attempted to set the dolly back up, but a wheel had broken off on the left side.
"Fucking fuck," she swore kicking the dolly away. She looked at Nate and sighed. Of course. She got her arms snaked under his armpits and made sure to lift with her knees. She started down the hill leaving two shallow trenches where his boots dragged. When she reached the bridge she took a break to catch her breath.
She looked at the progress she had made then down at Nate. The lump in her throat grew and took root in her chest. She shook her head attempting to clear the emotions welling up and hoisted him back up. She made it to the backyard of the house, their house, but not before stopping two more times and falling once more. Her face was wet with a mixture of sweat and tears.
She picked up the shovel and set to work. She narrated her actions internally trying and failing to stop crying. Her vision was regularly blurring from the dirt rubbed into her eyes and the weight in her chest. Breathe and shovel. You've got another two feet to go. It was a blessing when her hands blistered and broke open. This was a simple pain, an easier pain really, to focus on.
The hole was dug and she dreaded this moment. Another break. She lit a cigarette and took a swig of whiskey she had been thoughtful enough preemptively set in the yard before she struck out on her final mission. The sun had made it's way below the tree line; painting everything in an orange glow. Nora sniffled and took another big pull off the bottle.
Getting him in there hadn't been as hard on her as standing over him with the first shovel full of dirt. She hesitated, wavering on the spot. When the dirt finally left the shovel and landed on it's mark the sound reverberated in her ears. She let out a sob. She was shoveling more and more dirt. She could hardly see where she was shoveling it as she was crying in earnest now. Her whole body was heavy and shaking and she just kept shoveling.
There was a hand holding her arm halting her progress. She turned into the person and cried harder. "It's ok General," Preston knew grief. It wasn't going to be ok, but everyone needed to hear that it would be. When her choked cries slowed down and became idle sniffles he let her go and picked up the shovel he had brought. "Let's get this done General." Nora managed a small nod and wiped the snot off her face with the scarf Preston offered.
Afterwards they both sat on either side of the mound trading the bottle back and forth. Preston took small sips or pretended to.
"Nate's favorite color was sea green and I once poorly knitted him a scarf in that color. He liked the smell of cedar. He had a terrible poker face. Our first date was in College Square." Nora continued quietly listing in between pulls of whiskey, puffs of cigarette smoke, and bouts of crying. Preston looked over when she hadn't continued for awhile. She'd fallen asleep, or passed out. He picked her up and carried her inside the house to her bed tucking her in fully clothed.
Nora woke early in the bright morning sun feeling like someone had brought a sledgehammer down on her head. She was outside laying next to Nate's fresh grave with the blanket from her bed sloppily put over both of them. She went inside and finished the whiskey off and prayed to never wake up again.