Eggs

There was a cold breeze coming through the window. The same window she swore she had shut five minutes ago; or the window she was supposed to shut before the ringing of the telephone distracted her. But she won’t get up to shut it, she won’t even move from the floor she’s been sitting on for the past 10 minutes. The cold breeze is the only thing that she can feel right now. The only thing that’s assuring her that she’s alive right now. The only thing that’s making it known that she’s not dreaming and everything that happened was indeed real.

He had left not even 20 minutes ago to get eggs. Kissed her on the lips and said he’d be back in 30 minutes.

Eggs.

What a simple little word that now has no meaning. She can’t even remember why they needed it in the first place. Why it couldn’t have waited for tomorrow.

She can feel the breeze blow through her soft curls, see the auburn of it as it caresses her face, but she doesn’t bother to push the strands behind her ear. That was his thing. He would pull it back behind her ear, kiss her forehead and tell her he liked seeing her face. Especially her eyes; he always said brown eyes were the easiest to get lost in. She disagreed on that one, fierce sea green eyes were definitely easier, or at least his was. She could hear his laughter in her head, the deep ones that started at the base of your throat and made its way up until finding its release. He had that contagious laugh that you couldn’t help but get sucked into and start laughing as well. She could argue that that was her favorite sound in the world.

Now all she can see is his face.

His rugged face that would be extremely intimidating if it wasn’t for his kind eyes and crooked smile that always adorned it. And the one dimple she always teased him about, always asking what happened to the other one. His slightly crooked nose he had broken when he was eight smashing his bike into the ground. He never bothered to get it fixed, said he didn’t care much about it- it was just a nose. His crooked nose that reminded her that he wasn’t perfect, but damn near close to it. She could see his sandy brown hair that used to be ear length, now cut to a crop along his head. Said he needed a change, but really did it because it was getting too hot out and he didn’t want to deal with it. She was shocked at first, but she liked it, it made his features stand out more.

His beautiful face she had seen for the last time 25 minutes ago.  And she can hear his voice replaying their last conversation as if it were happening right now.

“Baby, we’re out of eggs.” I could hear him shouting from the kitchen, his head buried inside the refrigerator.

“We are? Are you sure, I swear I saw some yesterday.”

“Yeah I’m sure. I think I ate those anyways.”  And I could hear his laugh again.

“Well we could get some tomorrow or something. We don’t have to make it today.” Now I remember saying those words. If only I had fought harder he would still be here. But he’s as stubborn as I am and there’s no changing his mind.

“It’s your birthday tomorrow and I promised I would bake you a cake and I want to do it. I’ll just run to the store real quick, it won’t take me long. Thirty minutes tops.”  With that he had sprinted to the living room, kissed me on the lips, grabbed his keys from the coffee table and headed out the door to his car.

She can feel her vision getting blurry and starts to wonder why. But when she lifts her hands to her face she feels wetness on her fingertips and finally realizes that she was crying. She lifts her head to rest on the wall and catches something from the corner of her eye. As she concentrates on the object she realizes it was the Betty Crocker cake mix sitting atop the kitchen counter. And she loses it. Tears start pouring down her face and she’s sobbing. Not the quiet kind of sobs, but the kind that takes over your whole body and leaves you shaking. She feels like she’s suffocating, like all the air from the room has been sucked out and she can’t find a single ounce of oxygen. But she doesn’t care because all she can think about is the fact that he’s not here. But she can’t quite make herself say the words out loud. It’s too soon and she still hasn’t really accepted it; all she knows is that he’s not here because a truck ran a red light and he just happened to be the car it smashed into.

It was her birthday tomorrow. She was turning 25 and they were supposed to spend it together. He was going to make her a cake and take her somewhere special. She didn’t know where since he said it was supposed to be a surprise, but they were going to be together so she didn’t care.

Eggs.

She didn’t even want a cake but he wanted to make her one so bad she agreed. She didn’t understand why he wouldn’t just buy one, but he insisted on baking it- said it was the one his mom used to make when he was a kid. Special cake for a special person-- and because of that he isn’t here.