My Love, My Shadow

My shadow came alive. 

It was after my husband’s funeral. The weather had refused to offer its own sadness. Only a picture perfect day. Birds sang as if from a fairytale, and the world breathed. 

But someone good did not. 

It was the kind of day he would say called for “a treat.” We’d walk to Mindy’s Sweets, just a few blocks from our beach town home. He’d order a vanilla chocolate twist in a cup and request sprinkles on the top and bottom. Every time. 

On the walk home, I almost got one for him, but knowing I wouldn’t see his dimpled smile dissuaded me.  

Then, my shadow moved without me. It rose from the ground. I ran, but its cold, empty fingers snaked around my wrist. It grabs where no human can reach. My heart, my mind, my very soul. It’s followed me since.  

When I tried to rise from bed this morning, my shadow insisted I didn’t want to see the sun. When I hungered, my shadow insisted it was too much of a hassle. When I went to answer calls from concerned friends, my shadow guided my finger to “decline.” 

I cannot face it. The longer it follows, the easier it is to let it have its way. 

I haven’t been able to work. It’s been nearly two weeks, and my boss has been kind enough to pay me despite my absence. But it cannot last. If I don’t work soon, she’ll have to let me go. My parents say I can move in until I feel better. I don’t know when—or if—that will be. 

Besides, I cannot leave this home, or it will become just a house, memories gutted. 

What if his face is erased from memory, and the image of him is as empty as this haunting shadow? 

From my place melting into the cushions of the living room couch, I hear the doorbell. I lift my head, but my shadow pushes it back down, its cold touch burning my cheek. 

A voice sounds, cheery and warm.

“Ms. Renberg? I have a food delivery.” 

I furrow my brows. I didn’t order anything. It’s probably my parents. Or a friend sending another arrangement of fruit cut in pretty, impractical shapes. Why don’t they leave it at the door? Sighing, I rise, smooth over my waves of chestnut hair, and approach. 

I’m greeted by a woman in a yellow uniform with a zooming car logo clipped to her vest. The color makes it look like she’s being bathed in sunlight, even in the shade of my house.   

“Good afternoon, here’s your sushi order,” she says, beaming. 

My shadow settles its cold grip on me. I swallow and shake my head. “I didn’t order anything.” 

“Your friend Molly did,” she chirps, holding out the bag of food. 

Confusion washes over me. “I don’t know a Molly. I think there’s been a mistake.” My shadow urges me back inside with a pull at my shoulder.

The woman gives a warm smile and points at my name on the bag. “No mistake, ma’am. It’s for you, see?” 

She then looks past me as if she can see it. My shadow. She narrows her amber eyes. My shadow recoils. I feel its frost at my back diminish slightly. When I turn to look, it’s further behind me. 

“Ms. Renberg?” the woman starts again. I am tempted to ask her what she saw. Or maybe she didn’t see anything. “Sorry, I’m on a tight schedule. Here, enjoy this.” 

Not wanting to speak on it further, I accept the bag with a quiet “thank you.” I squint, reading the order. Salmon avocado roll with a side of edamame. It’s what I’d usually get. My address and name are no doubt listed with the name of who ordered it: Molly S. A phone number is scrawled beside it. Why would that be added? 

Before I can question, the woman is already down the driveway, waving to me from her car until she drives off on a mission. What just happened?

I return inside, glancing at the bagged food. My shadow draws closer, leaning against me. Nausea creeps into my gut. Hunger vanishes. This order can’t be mine. Who is Molly? How did she know my address? I look at the receipt again.

Not knowing what else to do, I reach for my phone. My shadow pulls it away. 

This time, I pull back and make the call. 

A tentative, soft voice sounds on the other end. “Hello? This is Molly Silver.” 

I clear my throat. “Hi, did you order sushi by chance? It arrived at my house just now. A salmon avocado roll and edamame?” 

Silence on the other end. “Sorry, who is this?” 

“Right, Lena Renberg. On Sand Dollar Lane,” I explain. She sent food to my address, to me specifically. Yet she sounded more confused than I was, no recognition at my name.  

“Sand Dollar Lane?” she repeats. “I’m on Sea Dove. Let me check—I swear, I...” After another moment, there is a long sigh, inaudible mumblings, and she’s back. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know how that happened. You can keep it if you’d like; I’ll re-order.” 

“Oh, no, I couldn’t.” I offer without thought, “I’ll bring it to you.”

“I don’t want to be a bother.”

“Bother? It’s your food. If it’s more comfortable, we could meet somewhere else? What about SeaStar Park?” I suggest. It’s within walking distance to both our streets. 

Molly pauses. Then, she says, “If that’s alright. Thank you. I’ll stand by the fountain?” 

“See you there,” I confirm, and with that, the call ends. My confusion grows by the minute, but the only way to clear it is to meet the woman on the other side of the phone. 

And so, in spite of my shadow pulling at me, I tidy up my appearance, put the sushi in a cooler, and leave my shaded house. 

My shadow claws at my back, beckoning me to return home, but I trudge on. On a Monday afternoon, the park is emptier. Stationed beside the stone fountain is a woman who looks to be a few years younger than me, maybe in her mid-twenties. But that’s not all I see. 

Standing close behind her is a shadow. 

Not quite the same as mine, but similar in the way it looms near and casts a draining shade. I have to stop myself from letting my jaw drop. I have never seen another, let alone known anyone else had them. 

Any attempt at a normal introduction evaporates. 

Then, she sees me. Her black hair is braided away from her face, a few loose, tight curls framing it. Her wide, apprehensive eyes remind me of a deer. 

“Ah, hi. Are you Lena? I—” Molly’s line of sight trails behind me mid-sentence. Her lips part. No. It isn’t possible. The delivery woman was surely a coincidence. A misunderstanding. But Molly unmistakenly stares down my shadow as if seeing a ghost. 

“Are you…” I start, words failing. 

Molly raises her brows. She glances back at her own shadow and says in a hushed voice, “Do you see it?”

I hesitate, muscles turning to rigid ice. I am unable to do anything but nod. 

“I thought…” Molly brings a shaky hand to her mouth. “You have one, too.”

We stare at each other, then longer at our shadows. I mull over what this could mean. A headache brews. I remember my purpose and hold out the cooler. “Oh, I brought your food. It was bizarre. The delivery said it was intended for me, from you?” 

Molly gratefully accepts, tilting her head. “But I don’t know you.”

I shake my head. Nothing makes sense. There is a shadow at my back, fog in my mind. 

Molly steps forward and gestures to a nearby bench. “I’m sorry if this is strange, but would you sit with me? We can share. Maybe we could discuss…them?”

My shadow pulls me back. Cold seeps into my veins. I shouldn’t linger. Yet I see the same strain in Molly’s face as her shadow wraps its arms around her. She draws forward, pushing through it in a way I’ve never been able to. Perhaps I should at least try.  

“Thank you. I’d like that,” I agree, and we sit, our shadows following. 

At first, we’re speechless. I’ve never spoken about my shadow.  

“How long has it followed you?” Molly breaks the silence. 

My throat tightens. “Almost two weeks. You?”

“Well…Two months,” Molly admits. 

Two months. Would this shadow ever leave? I have a feeling Molly doesn’t know either. I risk a glance behind us. Our shadows remain. I pull my gaze away, unable to face it longer without feeling sick. 

Molly goes to take a bite of her sushi, but her shadow pushes her hand down. Taking a deep breath, she eats anyway. In the shade of the surrounding trees, a few specks of light touch her cheeks, making it seem as though she’s crying tears of sun. I know the look in her eyes. It’s the same one I’ve been wearing since he died. 

“Who was it for you?” I ask quietly. 

For a moment, Molly has no response, and regret burrows in my gut. Then, she hangs her head, her hazel eyes softening. “My friend,” she murmurs. 

My heart burns. I know apologies don’t help. I instead incline my head at her solemnly, and she mirrors the gesture. She watches me, her gaze asking a question I should answer but don’t want to. My shadow leans its weight on me. Breathing becomes a chore. “My husband,” I whisper at last. 

Our shadows engulf us. It’s all I can see. The peaceful park scenery fades into a void. In the midst of the cold, something warm rests on my shoulder. The frost recoils. When my vision returns, Molly is looking at me. She doesn’t smile, doesn’t make well-intended but unhelpful apologies, just watches me, then my shadow. Her own shadow drifts away slightly. 

“This might be odd to ask,” Molly begins, gaze flitting about before settling on my face again, “but would you like to stay in touch, Lena?”

I raise my brows. For once, my shadow doesn’t intervene. It leaves me to make my own choice. I don’t know Molly. She doesn’t know me. But we understand our shadows, and that is more than I have gotten from others despite kind motives. 

Somehow, I find myself giving a nod, my lips lifting. “I would.”  

The next several months, seeing Molly becomes routine. I also fall back into work, even when my shadow tries to prevent me. 

I learned that Molly too lives alone. At least, now. Her friend was in a car accident, and Molly has had a hard time getting in the car since. I’ve seen the way her shadow suffocates her. 

“She was my sister,” Molly told me, voice brittle. 

Molly’s house is cold, like mine. There are framed pictures of Molly and her friend, smiling wider than I have ever seen in the short time I’ve known her. I hope that smile will emerge again but know it is unfair when I can hardly summon one myself.  

When Molly visited my house, she noticed my husband’s things. I told her he was sick, that we didn’t catch it in time. When the nurses and doctors said they would make him as comfortable as possible, I broke. We were supposed to start a family. Get ice cream from his favorite spot until we grew old. 

My shadow surrounds me every time I pass Mindy’s Sweets. 

But shadows are not all Molly speaks of. Her character is not measured by how long she can bear her shadow. 

She calls any animal she comes across “a friend,” leading me to ask the follow-up question, “what kind of friend?” To her, a friend could be anything from a spider to a snake to a rabbit. 

She speaks of the cafe she owns that she used to run with her friend, “Blossom’s Bakes.” My shadow pulls away, but I’ve started to pull back. From lavender lemon muffins to whatever sandwich combination she has come up with for a special menu item, she always gives me something new to try. 

All the while, I’ve tried to help Molly step foot in a car again. Her shadow swallows her whenever she draws near. For now, I’ve made sure her car stays running until she’s ready. Recently, she and I had a car wash day, as the spring-time flowers coated it with pollen. Though we may have gotten more water on ourselves than the car, it was the biggest smile I had seen her wear. 

But even with sunny days, there are storms. 

Today, it has been a year since Molly’s friend died. First thing in the morning, I shrug off my shadow and call her. 

The phone rings and rings before switching to voice message. My heart is gripped by worry. I send a text. The morning dwindles away with no response. I send another text but to no avail. 

It makes sense she would need space today.

And yet, my thoughts race ahead. My shadow looms by the calendar at my bedside, reminding me another anniversary is near. But I ignore it and walk out the front door, setting off for the florist and Molly’s favorite sushi spot. 

Sometimes, it’s easier to face others’ shadows instead of your own. 

Pulse climbing, sushi and flowers in hand, I knock on Molly’s door. When no one answers, I call out, “Molly? It’s Lena.” 

The blinds are closed. Has she gone to work, even today? I try the doorknob. Unlocked? Guilt swirling but anxiety winning, I carefully open the door and step inside. My heart drops. The entire room is swathed in shadow. Everything is blurred behind a veil of cold. A shiver carves through me, and I squint, searching frantically for her. 

In the center of the shadow storm, Molly sits on the floor, legs curled to her chest. The shadow makes my limbs heavy, moving as though slowly freezing. 

“Molly,” I plead, but she doesn’t hear, her head tucked to her knees. I put the food and flowers on the coffee table and push forward, kneeling beside her. She doesn’t lift her head. My eyes burn. I put a hand on her shoulder. “I know,” I murmur. There is nothing else to say. Not in words. “I know.”

Then, Molly stirs. Her eyes meet mine. I can hardly see the woman I’ve come to call friend beneath the veil of her shadow, but she’s there, no doubt. Always was. I squeeze her hand. 

“I’m here if you need me,” I promise. “It’s okay to face it.” 

Molly’s gaze shifts. To the picture of her friend on the coffee table. To the shadow around her. To me. Pained sobs rip through her throat, and she hugs me close. Her touch is cold but turns warmer. I cry harder than I’ve allowed myself to in a long time. For her, her friend, my husband, our shadows. My body shakes, and I squeeze my bleary eyes shut.  

When I open them again, and Molly is ready to pull away, the shadows are gone, reduced to the same one that followed her before. There are no apologies, no explanations. Our presence speaks for us. 

“I brought you lunch,” I say, my voice strained, trying for a smile. “Want to bring it to the park?”

“Yeah.” Molly sniffles, a warmth blossoming on her face despite the tears. “I’d like that.” 

It’s been a year since I lost him. 

I didn’t mark it on my calendar, as if that would make me forget. My shadow clings to me stronger than ever, tries forcing me to face it. 

But I cannot. 

Molly says everything is her treat today. Lately, her shadow has grown smaller until the only remnant lingered around her heart. She couldn’t describe how. But since then, even teary-eyed, she speaks of her friend more. Even when the shadow throbs in her heart. 

Being summer again, our town bustles with life. People head to the beaches in droves. Molly and I approach Mindy’s Sweets. My heart hammers. My shadow feeds off my dread. It wraps its arms around me. 

I draw back, freezing. 

Molly’s expression softens. “It should be your choice, Lena.” 

My eyes linger on Mindy’s. The pink and blue awning. The flowers painted on the door. He loved this place so much. Why am I looking at it this way? It would break his heart. And so, nodding at Molly, the two of us enter. 

The familiar smell surrounds me instantly. Sweet, refreshing. Him. This place is colored in our memories. Our first date. Our soothing summer nights. He’s everywhere, yet nowhere, and the contrast stings my soul. But Molly is here, and I’m grateful her sushi order came to my house that day. Though we never really learned how it happened. 

Glancing to where my shadow is, it’s fading. My breath hitches. The veil of emptiness is replaced by a loving face. My husband. He smiles his dimpled smile, warm eyes settled on me, melting the cold. I stare. Somehow, I know that when I turn away, he’ll be gone. It will always hurt. It will never change. But perhaps piece by piece, I will. Molly puts a hand on my shoulder, and I wipe away the tears I hadn't even felt roll down my cheeks.  

When it’s my turn to order, I smile despite the pieces of shadow in my heart. “Vanilla chocolate twist in a small cup please. Could you add sprinkles to the bottom and top?”