I tear the Georgie’s magnet off the refrigerator and try to rip it in half, but I can’t get it to succumb to my weak fingers. It just bends and stretches. I realize the futility of what I’m doing, as if removing this magnet, destroying this magnet, will ease my pain in any way. I put it back on the refrigerator door and I dial Susan.
She answers on the second ring.
“Susan? Hi. It’s Elsie.”
“Hi. Can you meet this afternoon to go over arrangements?”
“Arrangements?” I hadn’t really thought about what Susan would want to talk about. Arrangements hadn’t even occurred to me. Now, as I let it register, I realize that of course there are arrangements. There are things to plan, carefully calculated ways to grieve. You can’t even mourn in peace. You must do it through American customs and civilities. The next few days will be full of obituaries and eulogies. Coffins and caterers. I’m shocked she’s even contemplating me being a part of them.
“Sure. Absolutely,” I say, trying to inject some semblance of get-up-and-go into my voice. “Where should I meet you?”
“I’m staying at the Beverly Hotel,” she says and she tells me where it is, as if I haven’t lived in Los Angeles for years.
“Oh,” I say. “I didn’t realize you were staying in town.” She lives two hours away. She can’t at least stay in her own city? Leave this one to me?
“There’s a lot to take care of, Elsie. We can meet at the bar downstairs.” Her voice is curt, uninterested, and cold. I tell her I will meet her there at three. It’s almost one. “Whatever is convenient for you,” she says and gets off the phone.
None of this is convenient for me. What would be convenient for me is to fall asleep and never wake up. That’s what would be convenient for me. What would be convenient for me is to be at work right now because everything is fine and Ben will be home tonight for dinner around seven and we’re having tacos. That’s convenient for me. Talking to the mother-in-law I met yesterday about funeral arrangements for my dead husband isn’t convenient for me no matter what time it happens in the afternoon.
I get back in bed, overwhelmed by everything I need to do before I meet with her. I’ll need to shower, to get dressed, to get in the car, to drive, to park. It’s too much. When Ana comes back, I’m in tears with gratitude because I know she will take care of everything.