How to Love

“Why do you keep looking at my shirt like that?” I frowned, half-glaring at Liz. We were sitting in my kitchen about a week later and she had kept looking at my shirt, a yellow “Spring Fling” shirt I still had from my days at the library, and laughing to herself. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing,” she said, smirking. “It’s just that the color screams ‘I’m a virgin,’ that’s all.”

“You can’t make those jokes anymore!” I pointed out. “I’m not a virgin.” I didn’t bother pointing out that I hadn’t been a virgin the entire time that those jokes were being made.

My dad entered the kitchen at the exact moment that those words had fallen from my mouth. He made a disgusted face and shook his head. “Oh God. I’m gonna pretend I never heard that and continue going about my day because I don’t need this shit.”

“Sorry,” I apologized. Over the week, we’d been busy at the funeral home and while it was good to have the business, it had come at a bad time. Today was the two-year anniversary of my mother’s death and luckily for my dad, there was nothing going on workwise. I watched him as he walked over to the cupboard and pulled out a wine glass and tucked a bottle of wine under his arm. “What are you doing?”

“Isn’t it fairly obvious? I’m drinking,” he answered as if I were completely stupid.

“It’s ten in the morning,” I said, avoiding Liz’s questioning gaze.

“It’s five o’clock somewhere,” he quipped, though his retort wasn’t wonderfully original. Normally I would have pressed the issue further, but I let it slide in an effort to keep the peace, especially since Liz was sitting right there. Dad said nothing else and took his wine and wine glass into the family room to sit down.

“Is your dad okay?” Liz whispered to me, leaning in.

I nodded, though I wasn’t completely sure. “It’s just a hard day for him, you know?”

“Yeah, I can’t even imagine what it’d be like to lose Matt and we’ve only been together a year and a half,” she said. “That’d be unbearable if we’d been together for twenty-five years.”

I nodded again, not saying anything, and then cleared my throat. “Listen, I don’t mean to kick you out, but I’ve got some stuff I need to go do today, so I should start getting ready.”

Liz said good-bye and after she left, I hopped in the shower and stood under the water for a while, trying to make it last as long as possible. The water eventually got too cold and I had to hop out and though I was mildly freezing, I took my time getting dressed and putting my makeup on. My only plan for the day was to go visit my mother at the cemetery, and though I only made this pilgrimage twice a year – once around Christmas and once on her date of death – I wanted to go less and less each time. After I finally got my act together and said good-bye to my dad, who was about two thirds into his bottle of wine and it was only eleven, I headed downstairs. As I was locking the door behind me though, I almost ran right into Jake. “Jesus fucking Christ, you scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry,” he chuckled. “So are you ready to go?”

“Go where?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows as I threw my keys in my purse.

“Remember, we were supposed to go up to Sandusky and spend the day at the beach?” he prompted. I stared at him blankly, causing him to sigh. “We were going to stop and get spaghetti at that place that you like? Do you have any recollection of this conversation at all?”

I shook my head, feeling kind of like an asshole for forgetting. “Sorry, no. I’ve been really stressed this week. I’m happy to go with you some other day, but I’m on my way to the cemetery.”

“Why are you going to the cemetery?” Jake questioned.

“I’m going to visit my mom,” I answered, trying to maintain an easiness in my tone that implied that such an event was no big deal. “She died two years ago today, so I’ve gotta at least head up there.”

“Oh, shit, Jesus,” Jake said, running a hand through his hair, looking apologetic. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. You should’ve said something right off the bat.”

“I would’ve had I realized that we’d had plans,” I said, chuckling slightly. “Sorry I spaced on that. We’ll go another day though, promise.”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine,” he replied. “Are you going up with Zander or anybody?”

“No.” I shook my head. “Matt’s working and Alexander doesn’t feel ready to visit yet, I guess. My dad needs some time alone, so I figured I’d just go by myself, but I also don’t really want to. I sent Liz out earlier and I don’t know what I was thinking. I should’ve just asked her to stick around and take the ride with me.”

“If you want company, I’m more than happy to go with you,” Jake offered. “I mean, not to be pushy, but if you don’t want to go alone, I have a sudden all-day opening in my schedule.”

“Are you sure?” I checked. “Because it’s a long ride and it’s gonna be very boring. I’d appreciate the company, but you really don’t have to.”

“No, it’s totally fine,” he insisted. “Do you want to take my car? I just filled up for a long trip anyway.”

We walked to his car and as we got settled into the seats, I gave him directions to the cemetery. Jake turned up the music as we pulled out and started to drive. “So this is almost all the way in Holmes County, right?”

“Yeah,” I confirmed. “My mom really liked visiting Holmes County. She used to go there all the time when she was a kid and she took us on a lot of day trips, too. I just never appreciated it that much because I was like seven and didn’t give a flying fuck about anything except visiting this one farm we’d always go to.”

“I wish my mom would’ve taken us to do stuff like that,” Jake said. “You’re lucky that you got that time with her.”

“Yeah,” I repeated. “I am. Like I said, I just wish I would’ve appreciated it more, you know?”

We spent most of the hour or so drive in silence, Jake concentrating on trying to navigate the progressively rural streets and listening to my directions. We finally found the cemetery which was thankfully empty of any other visitors. For whatever reason, I always felt incredibly awkward visiting a cemetery while anyone else was there. I felt rude, almost like I was invading on their personal time with their lost loved ones.

It didn’t take too long to find my mom’s grave since the cemetery was fairly small. To my surprise, there were already fairly fresh flowers on her grave, which meant that someone had to have come earlier that day or a few days before. I knelt down by my mom’s grave and Jake maintained a polite distance from me, giving me some breathing room.

One of the other many things I hated about going to the cemetery was that I never quite knew what to do with myself. I’d never been comfortable talking out loud to myself (though in theory, I wasn’t really talking to myself) and to just be quiet felt so unnerving. There was also no set time on how long you were supposed to stay. Dallying around too long made you seem kind of pathetic, but too little time spent at the grave felt cold.

In an effort to reach a happy medium, I decided to sit by the grave for about three minutes and mentally tell my mom that I missed her and about how the family was doing and how all our lives’ were going. This managed to make the time go pretty fast, so at about the three and a half minute mark, I stood up and joined Jake again. “We can go now if you want.”

“You’re not gonna introduce me to your mom?” he asked and nodded towards my mom’s grave. “I’d love to meet her.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “That’s so corny. You know that, right?”

“I’m just saying,” he protested. “Is it a crime for me to want to in some way be associated with the woman who was responsible for giving you life?”

“No, not at all,” I said, linking my fingers through his and leading him back over to my mom’s headstone. Again, I wasn’t entirely sure what to do. To introduce Jake out loud seemed mildly psychotic to me, but to just stand there silently was equally as awkward. After a few seconds I cleared my throat, looking at the headstone. “Uh, Mom, this is my boyfriend Jake. He’s the one that I just spent about forty-five seconds talking about.”

“Forty-five whole seconds, huh?” Jake teased, nudging me in the hip.

“Well, I had a lot to cover,” I defended myself.

Jake basically ignored this and then looked at the grave and said, “Nice to meet you,” just as he had when he’d met my dad several months before. He stood silently for a few seconds and then turned his attention to me. “Can I have a second with your mom?”

“Uh, yeah, sure, go for it,” I said and drew my hand back from his, moving back several feet. I spent the next few minutes trying to figure out why Jake was silently conversing with my dead mother, and also wondering why he would even want to do such a thing in the first place. About five minutes later, Jake walked from the grave back over to me, sliding his fingers back through mine. “We can go now, if you want.”

I nodded and we walked back to the car in silence. I didn’t say anything until we’d shut the doors and he’d started the car. “What was that about? You talking to my mom, I mean.”

“I just wanted to pay my respects.” Jake shrugged. “I wanted to talk to her and tell her about how awesome you turned out and let her know that she’d be insanely proud of you, though I’m positive that she already knows that.”

I stared at him for a moment, letting that sink in. “That might actually be one of the nicest things that anyone has ever done for me.”

“Well, I can’t entirely say that it was for you,” he replied. “I also just really enjoy bragging about you.” This made me laugh a little, and he smiled. “So we’re up here already, and we might as well make a day of it. What did you and your mom used to do when you’d come up here?”

I told Jake about how there was an Amish farm that we used to go to that had a tour of the house and the barn that we always visited, even though it was the exact same tour every single time. I also told him about the restaurant we always ate at, Der Dutchman, the various stores we visited afterwards, always saving a furniture store called Andreas for last. He nodded and let this all sink in and then declared that that was what we were going to spend the day doing.

I had a hard time trying to remember how to get to the farm I’d told him about, so I’d had to call Alexander and ask him for directions. Since it was the middle of the week, the parking outside the farm was not very crowded, so we got a spot right near the front, next to the little bridge that went over a small creek. As usual, there was a barrage of birds walking around, which included chickens, ducks, and the horribly mean turkey that always harassed my mother. Since Jake had never visited the farm, we opted for the house tour first (which was just as charming as I had remembered it being) and then saved the barn for last. After visiting all the stalls of livestock, we checked out the puppy pen and shared sentiments about how we really wanted to bring one home, but settled on just playing with them for a little while. As we were getting ready to leave, I passively mentioned to Jake that they also had a horse and buggy ride, so we had to turn around and go back for that. The man that drove the horse and buggy let Jake take the reins for a little while, though he dropped them at one point. The horse and buggy ride concluded after the horse had taken a shit, and after that, we went on our merry way to go eat.

We picked the perfect time to go to Der Dutchman, since shortly after we were seated at my favorite window spot, a huge lunch crowd picked up and the entire dining room filled. Before our lunch arrived, Jake and I went through a whole bowl of rolls and several little containers of apple butter. We were pretty full when our meals got to the table, but managed to eat the majority of them.

“I aspire to make food this good,” Jake declared when he’d finished his roast beef and mashed potatoes. “I mean, I feel like Amish Jesus rode down from Heaven and cooked this food for me. That’s how amazing it was.”

“I know,” I agreed. “Don’t even get me started on the bread and apple butter. We’ll have to stop at the bakery before we go anywhere else.”

“You mean that I can experience the greatness of that apple butter in the comfort of my own home?” Jake asked, his eyes suddenly shining brightly. “I’m so in for that.”

After we settled the check, we walked over to the adjoining bakery and both bought loaves of bread, packages of rolls, giant jars of apple butter, and chocolate chip cookies. They ended up being on the expensive side, but as Jake reasoned, “you can’t put a price on Jesus food.”

After we’d stored our bakery in the car, we walked across the street to check out one of the many Amish shops. Not that I’d ever been interested in any of the things they sold as a kid, but I’d always loved the grand spiral staircase. After spending about half an hour there, we headed back to the car and I requested one last stop before we went home. I’d hated it as a kid, but my mom had always dragged us to this huge furniture store called Andreas that had like three or four floors. I didn’t expect to find it exciting now, but I figured if there was one thing I could do that my mom would have absolutely loved, it would be that.

Again, I had to call Alexander for directions since I couldn’t quite remember the way, but we managed to find Andreas okay. As Jake and I walked the first floor, which was entirely bedroom sets, I was surprised to find that I actually enjoyed looking at them, and we spent time examining all of them, commenting on what we did and didn’t like and imaging what it would be like to live in a bedroom like that of our own. We did this for the next few floors, studying kitchen sets, family rooms, and just about everything else one could imagine. By the time we left, we’d both mentally purchased all the furniture we’d want in a future home.

After we left Andreas, we decided that it was time to head home. About halfway back, I got a text from Matt asking if I wanted to meet him at Alexander’s house for a little while. I wasn’t exactly in a rush to get home to my surely drunken dad, so after confirming with Jake we decided to stop by for a while.

“Hey,” Alexander greeted when we’d arrived. He was wearing a polo shirt with brown and white stripes that didn’t quite match his khaki colored shorts, which made him look ridiculous. I could tell that Jake was thinking the same thing since he looked like he was trying to fight off a laugh. “Did you go see Mom today?”

“I did,” I confirmed as we came in. Jake and I sat on the loveseat in the family room while Alexander took the armchair and Matt was spread out on the couch, his work shirt riding up a bit to reveal his hairy stomach. “That’s what we were doing all day.”

“You spent all day at the cemetery?” Matt asked.

“Do you have to ask such stupid questions?” I countered, shaking my head. “Of course not. We were there for a bit and then we went and did all the stuff we used to do with Mom.”

“You went to Der Dutchman?” Matt half-gasped, as if that was a blasphemous concept. “That’s sacred.”

“I’ll tell you what’s sacred is that food,” Jake interjected, trying to change the subject in hopes that it wouldn’t turn awkward. “I’ve never had it before and I believe it changed my life.”

“Did you…get bakery?” Alexander asked, completely ignoring Jake.

“I’m not telling,” I replied. “Because it’s mine and I’m sorry, but I’m not sharing.” Both Alexander and Matt gave me death glares, causing me to shrug. “Well, maybe you should have come with me and then you both could’ve shared in the food experience.”

“Well, excuse me for having to work,” Matt defended himself, stretching “excuse” out like it was too many syllables. “I just started, it’s not like I can say, ‘Oh, sorry, I have to go visit my dead mom, I can’t come help at the mattress factory today. Oops.’” He gestured towards Alexander. “I have an excuse. He doesn’t.”

No one said anything for a few moments, not wanting to tread into “Who’s the better child?” territory which naturally always ended up incredibly ugly. We turned our attention towards the TV, though I noticed that Matt kept eyeing Alexander up and down, smirking. Finally, Alexander noticed this as well and demanded, “What?”

“Your shirt,” was all Matt responded. Jake put a hand over his mouth, to try to keep himself from laughing, though he couldn’t stop shaking.

“What’s wrong with this shirt?” Alexander questioned, glancing down at it and frowning.

“Nothing,” Matt said coyly, the corners of his lips upturned in a characteristically teasing smile.

“Fuck you, I have to burn this shirt now!” Alexander exclaimed, getting up from his armchair and heading down the hallway. I heard the door to his bedroom close and then open again a few moments later. He returned in another polo shirt, this one with white and light orange stripes. Admittedly, it better matched his shorts, but that didn’t stop Matt and then Jake from laughing.

“See, now you just look like a six-four Creamsicle,” Matt commented, earning even more laughter from Jake and a quiet chuckle from me.

Alexander said nothing for a few seconds, rage burning behind his eyes like fiery coals. “You’re getting fucking fat, Matt.” With that, he turned on his heels and stalked back up the hallway, this time slamming the door to his bedroom.

Matt looked at me and Jake, running his hand over his stomach. “It’s from the sympathy eating. I can’t let Liz eat tubs of ice cream by herself.”

I shook my head, wondered how I could come from the same gene pool as Matt and Alexander, and grabbed Jake’s hand, standing up. “Okay. I think I’ve had enough of you guys for the day. See ya.” I led Jake over to the door and called good-bye to Alexander. We headed outside and Jake got behind the wheel, pulling out of the driveway and heading back towards the funeral home.

He was quiet for a little while, but finally cleared his throat and spoke. “So, is there any reason Alexander didn’t go?”

“I don’t think he’s quite ready,” I replied after a moment of contemplation. “He was close with my mom, and he wasn’t able to be home when she passed because he was at boot camp and then job school. I know that hurt him really badly, whether he admits it or not. I think he forgets that big, tough Marines are allowed to have feelings too.”

“Well, maybe he’ll go visit her on his own,” Jake said, though he probably doubted that comment as much as I did. He seemed to rethink this, since he added, “Or maybe he’ll go with you next year. A lot can change between now and then.”

“It certainly can,” I agreed quietly. It was less than a year between Mom’s diagnosis and her death, so yeah, I could definitely relate to that statement.

“What about your dad?” he asked. I sighed, so he retracted the statement. “Sorry. It’s none of my business. I’ll shut up now.”

“It’s fine,” I told him, running a hand through my hair. “That’s just even more complicated to explain. It hurts him more than anyone else.”

“I understand,” Jake said, though I wasn’t sure he fully did. He didn’t say much more as we drove back, just letting the Dirty Heads CD he had playing fill the silences. We hadn’t had any awkward pauses in conversation like this since we’d started dating, and it was weird to almost feel like we were back at square one.

Luckily the drive was over pretty quickly and I was mostly ready to head upstairs, not quite sure what to expect. Dad definitely spent the day drinking, but I wasn’t sure whether he’d be a weepy, sobbing mess, belligerently angry about nothing and directing his anger at any inanimate object within throwing range, or comatose. I was hoping for the last one.

Before getting out of the car, I turned to Jake and kissed him, lingering a little longer than I normally would have. “Thank you for going with me today. It really means a lot.”

“You’re welcome,” he answered, giving me a quick kiss on the forehead. “I know you’d do the same for me if the situations were reversed.” He stroked my hand with his thumb for a moment. “Do you want me to come up or do you want some time alone?”

Admittedly, I didn’t want to be alone, but I also wasn’t sure how Dad was doing and unless he was sleeping, whatever scenario we were going to step into would no doubt be highly embarrassing. So in response, I shook my head. “I need a little time to myself, I think.”

He nodded. “I understand. Take care, though. If you need anything or want to talk, call me. I love you.”

“I will,” I assured him, moving to grab my bakery and get out of the car. “I love you, too. Talk to you soon.”

I started to open the door and Jake stopped me once more. “Hey Veronica? Thanks for letting me meet your mom.”

I said nothing at first, just nodding slightly. All of a sudden I had some tears spring to my eyes, though I fought them back. I had no idea why that one comment had gotten that reaction from me, but it struck me as incredibly bittersweet. “She would’ve loved you.”

Before either one of us could say anything else, I exited the car and gave Jake a little wave before heading inside. I dragged my feet up the stairs and paused before pulling back the accordion doors. Last year when I’d returned from the cemetery, I’d come home to Dad throwing pictures around the living room and loudly cursing God for taking my mother so young. His drink of choice had been whiskey that night, so hopefully he’d just stuck to wine. I didn’t hear anything, so I decided it was safe to proceed.

I made sure the doors stayed quiet as I shut them and stopped in the kitchen to see if I could hear anything. The family room was entirely dark except for the glow of the TV. I peered in, glancing over the side of the couch. Dad was fast asleep, clutching a picture to his chest and a bottle of wine on the floor. A big part of me wanted to wake him up and talk about Mom and cry together, but I thought better of it and retreated to my own room, curling up on my bed and shutting my eyes tight until I fell asleep.