Title comes from "Saying Your Names" by Richard Siken
a lungful of glass
Fiona misses Jimmy at the strangest moments.
She'll be putting groceries away and when the fridge door slams shut, she'll expect to see him on the other side, a half smile on his face and his eyes alight with the promise of something she could never quite grasp but felt like she could spend forever trying to touch. But he's not there anymore, the late afternoon sun shining through the empty kitchen she's standing in. She mentally smacks herself with the reminder that he's gone; he's not in her life anymore. And it's fine. She's fine. She reminds herself to breathe again and she pats the fridge door and folds up the grocery bags for later use, calling to Lip up the stairs about what they should make for dinner.
She'll be putting Liam in his high chair, grabbing a handful of Cheerios for him to munch on, and she'll expect to feel his arms come around her waist and to feel the scruff of his beard scratch against her cheek. She'll expect her breath to be taken away by just the feel of him, but when she straightens and there's no sight of him behind her, she runs her hand slowly through her hair. Takes a steadying breath, ignores the phantom feel of his arms, and gets back to business. Because he's not there and she has children to feed and get off to school and a life to continue. She tells Debbie to drag Carl out of bed by his hair if she has to and she finishes getting lunches ready.
She'll be running late for work, hopping around on one foot trying to get her shoes on and her bag ready, and she'll expect to hear his voice telling her to slow down, to not fall on her ass, that it'll be fine. It's just one day out of the hundreds she's worked for the company, so it'll be fine. She expects to see him lounging on the couch with his hair mussed up, in his jeans and a comfy tee shirt and for him to run a calming hand down the side of her face. Her eyes close and she can almost feel it. Feel him. Hear his voice, so reassuring and gentle. But when she opens her eyes, she sees the empty couch and she hears nothing but the sound of her own labored breathing. She shakes her head. He's gone but she's there and her job is still there and she's still late. She runs out the door, swallowing. Breathing.
She'll be walking up the stairs late at night, picking up discarded items of clothing and stepping on toys from her siblings and she'll expect to see him at the end of the hall, doing the same. They would meet in the middle, toss the clothes to the side and wrap their arms around each other. Kiss. Fall into bed together. But when she gets up to the top floor and looks down the hall, she only sees the posters on the walls and the closed bedroom doors, the line of towels and clothes untouched and waiting for her. Only her. And she'll crawl into bed alone, with sheets that still smell like him and she'll feel it pressing against her ribs and her throat. The awful, bitter, crushing feeling of missing him with everything inside of her.
"When did you know it was over?"
Fiona hugs her pillow to her body and curls around it, the tears threatening to spill over, and she gasps, trying to breathe. But it's so difficult and it hurts her and she kicks the covers off the bed trying to get more space, more room to breathe but she can't.
Because there's some part of her that still belongs to him. Some part that wanted to touch and kiss and feel and be and breathe with him. But she can't do any of that anymore.
And that part of her knows it won't ever really be over for her.