How to Talk to a Widower

putting him through this.
    “Hey!” my mother says, running over to me. She bends down to kiss me and then starts to cry.
    “I’m okay, Mom.”
    “I was so scared!”
    “He’s fine, Evie,” my father says, gently pulling her off of me.
    “He could have been killed!”
    He leads her over to the window, where she collapses against him, and he holds her tightly, murmuring quietly into her ear.
    Debbie and Claire climb off the bed to help me into it, and then climb back on to lie next to me. “It always has to be about you, doesn’t it?” Debbie says, kissing my cheek.
    “I’m really sorry, Pooh. I ruined your dinner.”
    “I’m just glad you’re okay,” she says. “Anything to get out of coming to the wedding, right?”
    “The police are downstairs,” Mike says. “You need a lawyer?”
    “Tell them it was an accident. He was showing me the gun and it went off.”
    “You sure?”
    “Will that keep him out of trouble?”
    “As long as he has a license for the gun, he should be okay.”
    “I’ll be down in a minute,” Debbie tells him as he leaves.
    “You should have seen Dad,” I say softly. “He still knows what he’s doing.”
    “He was also pretty impressive saving your life back at the club,” Claire says.
    “I guess he’s having one of his better days.”
    “Legendary.”
    “It’s good to know he’s still in there,” Debbie says.
    “He’s there,” I say.
    “My stomach is killing me,” Claire says.
    “Is it the baby?” Debbie says, alarmed.
    She shakes her head. “Twin telepathy.”
    “Really?” Russ says. “You guys feel each other’s pain and all that?”
    “We don’t have twin telepathy,” I say.
    “Don’t listen to him,” Claire says. “He’s just being negative.”
    “It’s been that kind of day,” I say. I can feel my eyes starting to close. “What time is it?”
    “It’s just after one a.m.,” Debbie says. “Hey. I’m getting married today.”
    “Congratulations.”
    “We’d better go,” she says, leaning over to kiss my forehead.
    “Thanks, Pooh.”
    “I was thinking that tonight would be the perfect time for you to stop calling me that.”
    I consider her thoughtfully for a moment. “I don’t see the connection.”
    She shakes her head and smiles. “You get some rest.”
    “Pooh.”
    “Yeah.”
    “I love you.”
    “That’s just the morphine talking.”
    My father leans over and kisses my forehead. “Good night, Doug,” he says.
    “Thanks for everything, Dad. You were amazing.”
    He looks me in the eye while he runs his fingers gently across my face, and I can feel the hotness forming at the base of my throat. “You’ll be okay,” he says.
    “Don’t eat the food here,” my mother says. “The place is crawling with disease. We’ll bring you breakfast in the morning.”
    Claire kisses me and says, “You’re a mess.”
    “I know.”
    “But you’re my mess, so please, I think we’ve had enough action for a while.”
    “It hasn’t been dull.”
    “Dull is sounding pretty good right about now.”
    Russ closes the door behind all of them, and he’s just turning to face me when the door opens again and Debbie steps in, slightly out of breath. “Russ,” she says.
    “Yeah.”
    “Your toast was incredible.”
    Then she throws her arms around him and gives him a long, soft, openmouthed kiss on the lips. When she’s done, she gives him another, shorter one, and then a peck on his forehead. “I think you’re beautiful too,” she says. “Okay. Bye.”
    And he just stands there blushing after she leaves, looking utterly dumbfounded until, gradually, a wide smile spreads across his face.
    “You okay there?” I say after a bit.
    “Just give me a minute,” he says.
    Then he jumps up onto the chair and does a little dance, and then he runs across the room, opens the window, and lets out a long, triumphant scream. After he closes the window, he comes back across the room and climbs onto the bed next to me, panting from his exertions and still smiling. “Is today the best day ever, or what?” he says.

    I wake up in the middle of the night, empty and confused. Russ is sleeping beside me, still in his suit and tie, snoring lightly, and I’m glad he’s there, warming the bed for me. I am deeply exhausted, can feel the fatigue burning like embers in every muscle of my body. I am a man who was shot by a jealous husband. I am that guy. It will take some getting used to. My eyes roam the darkened hospital room,