Guilt

Matt sat in his car for several minutes the following morning, simply staring up at the sunshine-dusted house that belonged to Julianne. He questioned whether it was a good idea for him to rush back to comfort Julianne so quickly—had it been enough time for her to calm down and relax? Obviously, he’d stirred up painful memories Julianne had no doubt worked hard to suppress. It was almost like the shoe box had been coated in a dusty misery, and when he upset the dust, he upset the misery hiding within Julianne, too. He should’ve never poked around like he had.

She hadn’t revealed much about Kelly, either. Not how he died, or precisely when he died—but of course, that would go under the category of Stirring Up Painful Memories. No wonder she preferred to pretend like she never married and never felt the grief of death.

However, Matt couldn’t back out now. Maybe she could see him out of a window. If he ran now, she might assume she scared him away for good with her sudden outburst. So, Matt climbed out of his car and stepped up to the front door. He knocked several times, and even rang the doorbell, but still there was no answer. The door was unlocked, however, so Matt let himself in.

Matt frowned at the sight that met him. Julianne’s living room was left in shambles—it looked as though an isolated tornado swept through the place. Anything easily movable had either been broken, knocked over, or scattered across the carpet. Papers littered the floor; the cushions had been torn from the couch and strewn among the chaos, floating like buoys in an ocean of paper and the odds and ends in Julianne’s living room.

A quick walk-through of the rest of the first floor revealed that the other rooms weren’t nearly as bad as the living room—less stuff to scatter about—but anything available had been flung around. In the kitchen, triangular shards of a plate crunched beneath Matt’s feet as he walked around. The empty draining board beside the sink had been flung to the ground, where it now lay cowering where the small aluminum table had been. Now, however, the table had been turned on its side and clearly shoved, taking the two chairs out with it.

Julianne hadn’t been a happy camper after Matt left.

Matt’s thoughts instantly diverted from the destruction and mess around the house, instead channeling to Julianne. Matt wondered how much pain and grief Julianne had been suppressing for her to explode like this, to where she destroyed her possessions like they meant nothing. He couldn’t help but blame himself for being a total snoop and flicking lemon juice on the paper cut obviously still etched into Julianne’s soul from her husband’s death. Matt longed to know more—he wanted to help Julianne, and this showed to him how much pain she really felt.

After a quick search of the second floor, Matt found Julianne sound asleep in the guest bedroom bed. She was still in her clothes from the day before, and even though she slept, a frown lingered on her lips. Tucked underneath an arm was the culprit to all this: the shoe box.

Deciding not to disturb Julianne, Matt stepped quietly out of the room and went back downstairs to begin the massive clean up of Julianne’s house. He felt a little responsible for the whole ordeal. It was the least he could do for Julianne.

Half an hour later, Matt found the living room beneath the debris. He sank back onto his heels where he was kneeling on the carpet, sorting through papers and trinkets. A movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and Matt turned to see Julianne standing in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest in a slightly shameful and embarrassed fashion. She had changed into a different set of clothes and pulled her hair back.

“What the hell happened?” Matt asked. His tone came off harsher than he’d intended, and Julianne actually flinched and seemed to lean away. Tears clouded her irises again, which Matt noticed had hardened back into cold slabs of chocolate, and she blinked several times in an attempt to clear them.

Matt quickly rose to his feet and approached Julianne, feeling guilty now that he’d made her tear up. When she didn’t retreat from him, Matt took it as a good sign and tenderly wrapped his arms around Julianne. Julianne pressed her face gently into his shoulder and rested her hands on his waist, but made no other contact than needed.

“What happened?” Matt asked, his voice lower and gentler. Julianne pulled away, her eyes flickering over his shoulder at the mess still strewn in the living room.

“I won’t pretend that the shoe box didn’t bring back memories and emotions I’d been suppressing,” Julianne answered. Her voice was strong and clear. She dragged the back of her hand across her eyelids, and the tears evaporated from the slabs of chocolate in her eye sockets. “Because it did. And even though it is your fault that you decided to snoop around, I didn’t help the matter at all. Once you left, I calmed down enough to go upstairs and begin to look through the pictures. I tried my wedding ring on. The memories kept flowing until I could no longer take the pain. I started throwing things and breaking things and scattering things and it eased the pain so much I couldn’t stop. By the time I felt somewhat normal again, my emotions suppressed once again, I was exhausted and my house was a chaotic mess.”

As she spoke, her back straightened. Her voice got clearer and stronger. The dead glint in her eye slipped down over the slabs of chocolate, and Matt could practically hear her sarcasm click back into place. Julianne was back to normal, as composed and generally lifeless as usual.

“Well, this house won’t clean itself, you know,” Julianne muttered, brushing past Matt into the living room. She started to sort through the papers Matt had stacked into a neat pile.

“How did—” Matt began hopefully, wondering if Julianne would answer one little question.

“No,” Julianne said without looking up. “Go look it up in the fucking library if you’d like to know how he died so bad. Me, I much rather focus on the future.”

Matt knew that was a lie. Julianne was more focused on the past than anyone else Matt knew. He just wasn’t sure why yet.