37. An Unexpected Loss

An Unexpected Loss

Hadley and the girls continued the routine of meeting up once a month for a girls' night, almost always opting for Royal Oak, where they'd always request the same booth. To Cathleen and Meghan, it was the incredibly deserved mom's night out, to Helen it was an audience for her theatrical tales of who and what she's been up to, and to Hadley it was healing. She was thriving in every way that mattered to her, a steady income, a home of her own in the form of a small apartment, and a group of friends that she could rely on. She started to worry less and spent more time enjoying the moment. She also started to carve out time to read, an activity, easily neglected, that always brought her peace.

One Saturday, she sat on her couch, legs extended and crossed, with a library copy of Morning Glory by LaVyrle Spencer rested open, but face down, on her lap. Every time she started reading, she'd get to the bottom of the page and have to restart it, her mind distracted by one particularly funny moment from last week's girls' night. Helen was sharing a story, really gesticulating and getting into it, but Hadley and Meghan had a hard time hearing her from across the table since the live band had their speakers set too loudly. After a few failed attempts at reading lips, Helen grew frustrated by their "whats" and yelled out "Turns out I slept with his brother, too" at the exact moment the band finished their song. A pin drop would've echoed, at least until all of them wheezed and hollered with laughter, as they fell over each other, unable to regain their composure for several minutes.

Hadley gave up on reading after the second time a laugh bubbled out of her. She wedged her bookmark into chapter four then closed the book and set it on her coffee table. Continuing to giggle to herself, Hadley decided she'd give Dorothy a call. She hadn't talked to her all week and was dying to tell her about Helen's embarrassing moment. Although, Hadley wasn't sure which part was most embarrassing, when she realized she slept with brothers or when she shouted it out in a quiet room. Shaking her head, Hadley stood up and slipped on her moccasins. She grabbed a thrifted navy-blue Frog and Toad sweatshirt from her closet, since the lobby doors always wafted in the cold air, before she made her way downstairs.

"Hey Hazel, how's it going?" Hadley walked over to the front desk instead of making a straight line to the phone.

"You sure seem happy today. Staying warm up there?"

"So far. I'm glad that hot air rises, even if I'm only two floors up, because it's a bit chilly down here." Hadley crossed her arms tightly as she smiled.

"You're telling me. People need to stay put and stop opening and closing the front door. Those gusts of cold air are no joke."

Hadley nodded.

"You down here to talk about the weather or to use that relic in the corner?"

"Guilty. I was going to call Dorothy since it's been a few days. Actually, it's been about a week… the last time I called her, the receptionist said she was at dinner."

"Well go on, get to it. I don't want to keep you from that sweet lady. Tell her to call the main number once in a while, she's a blast to chat with."

"She'd love that. Thanks, Haze!" Hadley rushed to the phone and dialed the number from memory. She giggled to herself, excited to catch up with Dorothy.

Moments later the room spun.

The joy on her face crumbled when the receptionist stammered through an explanation that Dorothy was gone. Hadley tried to understand and kept asking questions, but like the novel she was reading earlier, nothing sunk in. Eventually, frozen in place, unable to speak, the phone dropped from her hand. When the telephone's handset bounced off the wall, ricocheting noise, Hazel looked up and took in the scene. As a mother of five and grandmother of 12, Hazel had grown extremely empathetic toward others and therefore knew, without seeing her face, that Hadley was upset. It took less than a minute before Hazel ran to Hadley's side, placing her hands on Hadley's shoulders.

Hazel's embrace startled Hadley out of her trance. She turned around, mute, and with an overwhelming break in the dam, wrapped herself into Hazel's arms and cried. She cried until she felt raw, and only then did she slowly detach herself from Hazel, with a quiet apology for clinging so tight.

"Honey, I'm so sorry. Let me walk you upstairs. Can I call someone for you? I have Meg's number in your file, how about I call her?" Hadley nodded and wiped her wet nose against the sleeve of her sweatshirt. Two months ago she was so happy to have an emergency contact to be able to give Hazel, after she finally worked up the nerve to ask Meghan about it. Meghan was honored even though Hadley kept telling her it would never get used because why would an apartment complex ever need to call her emergency contact. It was clearly the last thing she expected to happen.

Once Hazel used her master key to let Hadley into her apartment, she guided her to the couch and wrapped a lime green and cinnamon crocheted blanket over her shoulders. She looked around the living room, her compliment on the decor falling on deaf ears, as she finally spotted a tissue box. She brought it over to the stunned Hadley and promised her she'd come back upstairs if she was unable to get ahold of Meghan. Hadley nodded at Hazel with big eyes that streamed tears and a mouth that wouldn't move and watched as she tiptoed away. Once Hadley was alone, she buried into the couch and let out a stomach wrenching, guttural cry.

Twenty minutes later there was a knock on the door. Hadley looked over, exhausted. "Hadley, it's me. Hazel said she left the door unlocked, so I'm going to open it, okay?" Meghan waited a moment before she opened the door. When her eyes found Hadley puddled on the couch, she ran over and scooped her up. Hadley sat wrapped in Meghan's arms and cried, relieved that Meghan hadn't tried to force her to talk. Eventually, the presence and embrace of her best friend was enough to calm her down and she took a deep breath. It was the first complete breath since being told the awful news.

"She's gone, Meghan. Dorothy's gone."

"I know babe, I'm so sorry. Hazel told me she called the care center and went over the details with a nurse because she had a feeling you might not have absorbed it all."

"Did Hazel tell you what she found out? I think I blacked out," Hadley sniffled through a hiccup.

"She did. Let me throw a pot of tea on for us and then I'll tell you everything. I hope you don't mind but I called the ladies and they'll be here in a bit. We thought we'd order some pizza, and you could tell us more about Dorothy, like a little memorial. I told Cathleen to hold off a few minutes before leaving, in case you rather be alone. I can call them off, you tell me."

Hadley wiped at her eyes and did her best to smile. "That sounds nice."

"Are you sure? I don't want to overwhelm you."

Hadley nodded.

"Okay, let me get this kettle on and then we can walk through what happened."

While the water prepared to boil, Meghan explained that Dorothy was diagnosed with aggressive colon cancer nine months ago, three months before Hadley reconnected with her. It progressed and spread quickly likely because of her family history of cancer along with her older age. She maintained great spirits with the help of a pain management regimen. Meghan also explained that the nurse who talked to Hazel wanted to make sure Hadley understood that her calls to Dorothy brought such a tremendous joy to her and that Dorothy often told the staff about how proud she was of Hadley.

"Wow," Hadley whispered, right before the tea kettle whistled. Meghan placed her hand on Hadley's leg before she got up to pour them each a cup of tea.

"I hope peppermint is okay, it's the only box of tea I could find." Meghan handed a mug to Hadley and rejoined her on the couch.

"It's perfect, actually." Hadley blew away the steam. "I got that tea because peppermints were Snow White's favorite treat so sometimes I make myself a mug just so I can smell the sweet spice and think about her. Dorothy would've gotten a kick out of me having peppermint tea now, in her honor." Hadley smiled again and wiped her cheeks with her tear-soaked sleeves. "I just wonder why she never told me she was sick. Whenever I brought up nurses or asked why she opted for a care facility, she'd quickly change the subject."

"Man, Had, I'm not sure." Meghan chewed at the inside of her cheek as she thought of what to say next. "You did say you first started visiting her shortly after your mom had passed away, right?"

"Yeah…"

"Well, it's possible Dorothy considered how hard it was on you when your mom was sick with cancer and didn't want you to go through that again. Or maybe she just wanted to enjoy the last few months she had and have normal, light conversations with you instead of filling both of your time with sorrow."

"Yeah. When you put it that way, it makes sense. I was broken when I first met Dorothy and she worked so hard to get me to believe in myself. It took a while until I did, or tried to, anyway. I'm glad I reconnected with her even if it was just for a short time. If I'm being honest, though, it makes me that much angrier at my dad than I already was. Imagine if I had those cards in real time and I never lost touch with Dorothy in the first place. Things could've been so different."

Right as Meghan was going to counter and remind Hadley there's no point in dwelling in the what ifs of life, there was a knock on the door. "Must be the ladies. Are you sure you're okay with them being here? It's not too late to turn them away. Everyone grieves differently."

"It's okay, really. It's another thing that Dorothy would've gotten a kick out of. I always talked about and grew up wishing for a group of girlfriends like my mom had, and here I am, with that exact thing."

"It's good to see you smile, Hads." Meghan set her tea mug on the coffee table as she walked to the front door to let the ladies in. Cathleen held a large white and red cardboard box from the pizzeria down the road and Helen held a brown bakery bag.

"We rallied as soon as Meghan told us what happened. We're so sorry, girl." Helen collected Hadley into a tight hug. "Cathleen grabbed a pie; I hope you're hungry. It's okay if you're not, though, we all know how good cold pizza is."

Helen pointed to the brown bag that now sat on the kitchen counter. "I stopped at the bakery that's near my house because I remember you mentioned once how much you missed Dorothy's muffins. These obviously will pale in comparison but wanted to grab you some anyway. They're lemon coconut."

Hadley's smile wavered and she burst into tears.

"Oh, my girl, don't cry. The muffins were a stupid idea, I realize that now. I didn't mean to upset you more. I can throw them out!"

"No, it's not that..." Hadley shook her head and took a deep breath and held it for a moment before she pushed the air out slowly. The ladies watched her nervously but patiently, granting Hadley the moment she needed. "My emotions are on high alert right now, I didn't mean to cry like that. It was actually incredibly thoughtful of you to bring muffins." Hadley paused to blow her nose. "It's funny, Dorothy kept telling me to keep my heart open to the universe and I thought she meant so I could find a guy to fall madly in love with." Hadley's eyes welled as she gently swatted the air in front of her, which felt clogged with sadness. "She started dating her husband when she was a teenager and they were wildly in love until he died." Sniffling between words, she continued. "She stayed devoted to him and the life they built for all of her years after him…" The ladies smiled as they listened. "Anyway, I'm just, uh, realizing she wasn't talking about finding a man." Hadley blew out a breath. "She was talking about–". Hadley's voice cracked as she pointed around this room. "This. She meant this. Opening my heart to this kind of love."

Meghan wiped a tear from her own eye and grabbed Hadley's hand. "It's the best kind isn't it." Hadley nodded as they walked deeper into the apartment. Meghan, Helen, and Hadley shared the couch while Cathleen sat on the chair next to them. "Okay, here's what we were thinking. We wanted to help you honor Dorothy with an impromptu mini memorial. Granted we know you only just found out, so we may have jumped the gun a little and probably should've given you space to process. But that's not how we work."

Helen wrapped her arm around Hadley and added, "We, of course, didn't know Dorothy, but we're great listeners."

Hadley pulled her sweatshirt's sleeves over her hands and brought them up toward her mouth. She fidgeted with the material as she wondered where to start. "I know we have pizza, but I was thinking we could start with the muffins. I spent many afternoons sitting at Dorothy's kitchen table and talking with her, always in between bites of her freshly baked goods. Do you mind if we start with dessert?"

"I think that sounds lovely." Cathleen, who sat closest to the kitchen counter, got up for the bag and handed everyone a muffin. They were larger than Dorothy's but had the same coarse sugar crystals coating the top, which was Hadley's favorite part.

Hadley ripped a small chunk and popped it into her mouth, surprised by the tang of lemon mixed with the nutty richness of coconut. She tore another bite off before thanking Helen. "They're not Dorothy's but they're still pretty delicious." The ladies nodded enthusiastically as they dug into the treat. After a few moments of shared silence, Hadley knew where to begin. "I could probably talk about Dorothy and Snow White all day. Especially Snow White, she was the absolute best," Hadley sighed. "But before I get to that, I think I should start with the day I first walked onto Dorothy's farm."

The ladies leaned forward and clung to Hadley's every word. Some stories brought tears and others caused them to bend in laughter. Hadley, destroyed only hours ago by an unexpected loss, felt grateful for the love and sympathy that surrounded her. She knew it would take time, and that her grief would come in waves, but after hours with friends she knew the sharp pain in her heart would one day subside.