The Little Box

As Emily’s fingers brushed against the little box in her pocket, she paused, letting memories flutter back briefly, before continuing to search for her money. With a quick "Thank you," she handed the cashier a her cash and walked out the door without waiting for her change. In the 10 minutes it took her to buy some envelopes, grey clouds had stretched across the sky.

Ignoring the imminent, Emily began her 20-minute walk home. Within seconds the clouds released their tension, unleashing what felt like a monsoon.

“I hate the rain,” she sighed. Flipping up her hood and shoving her hands in her pockets she trudged on, before once again running her fingers over the velvet blue box. She smiled and thought back to two weeks before; The alternator in her husband Mike's car had died less than a mile from their home. Emily was freezing and the tow truck wouldn’t arrive for another hour. Buying a house with minimal neighbors had seemed like a good idea at the time, but in moments like this Emily regretted the solitude. Mike had suggested the idea of just walking home since it was so close, but tired and hungry, she moped and refused to move.

After a few minutes, he suddenly turned and gaped at her, looking so deep into her eyes she could almost feel the piercing blue ocean staring back at her.

“Are you…okay?” She asked. Without a word Mike jumped out of the driver’s seat and ran into the road, looking at her through the windshield. “What are you doing?” She yelled through his open door.

Just as Emily was about to yell at him to get back in the car, fearing she would have to tend to his cold for the next week, Mike began to dance. Like a child, he splashed in the puddles, waved his arms in the air, and sang Everybody by the Backstreet Boys at the top of his lungs. Emily stared at her husband with her mouth hanging open. She giggled at his antics, and then did what any other sensible woman would do: she got out of the car and joined him. They danced in the pouring rain for what felt like an hour, but was only about 5 minutes, belting out songs from their childhood, taking full advantage of the empty street, before agreeing to race home.

Soaking wet and out of breath, she stood on the doorstep waiting for him, fully aware that he let her win. He pulled her into him, kissing her deeply while fumbling to get the key in the door. They quickly wrapped themselves in a blanket, without the wet clothes, and snuggled up in front of the TV.

Looking back at the memory, the rain no longer seemed like a burden. Emily picked her head up, took her hands out of her pockets, and ran. She ran the full mile and half it took to get to her house, her wet jeans and heavy boots weighing her down, and a large smile plastered on her face. She got to her driveway and started running faster; she jumped up the stairs, put her key in the door, and rushed in throwing her body on the floor. Laughing at herself as she looked around her home, her smile fading as the emptiness of the halls echoed around her.

One 40-minute shower later, she was in her closet debating the clothes that hung before her. She slipped into her most modest black dress, grabbed some flats, and quickly dried her hair. She ambled down the stairs and waited patiently, until she heard the sound of a car rolling into her driveway, the tires splashing in the water while muddy gravel crunched below them. She grabbed an umbrella and carefully navigated the puddles outside before jumping in the passenger seat of her mother-in-law’s car. The whole time clutching the little box in her hand. With a quick nod and a weak smile, they were off.

They drove to a small but beautiful funeral home, greeting everyone as they made their way through. They took a seat and listened to the celebrant as he read the prayers laid out by the family.

At the end of the ceremony, the he looked up and said, “If anyone would like to say a few words, please join me now.”

Emily watched as one by one people walked up and shared small memories before saying goodbye, shaking her hand as they made their way out of the room.

As the space emptied out, she slowly rose from her seat and made the seemingly endless walk toward the casket. She lifted the top, tears silently rolling down her cheeks as she laid her eyes on the only man she ever truly loved. Her throat felt like it was closing as she reached out to touch the spot on Mike’s chest where had been shot in a robbery gone wrong.

Pulling one arm back she raised the other, opening her hand to display the little box. For the first time in five days, she gazed upon his wedding band. He had surprised her years ago by engraving “forever” along the inside of her band, always saying that eventually, he would engrave his as well. When the police handed over his belongings she knew this would be the last chance she would get. She ran the tip of her finger across the new engraving while she whispered “and always,” letting tears fall onto the satin lining of the casket as she placed the ring on his finger. She turned around and walked back to her seat, not sure if she was really ready to say goodbye.

Time moved slowly as they carried the casket from the parlor to the hearse, and ultimately the cemetery. She stood in the rain, watching as they lowered him into the ground. "Until we meet again," she whispered, smiling through the tears as the memory of Mike's tone-deaf voice rang in her ears.