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Everyone lingered so long that I finally came out of my silence and started the goodbyes. Assuring and reassuring that I could handle being on my own, that I needed a few hours alone, that I'd call if I wanted anything.
When it was finally just Huggy and me, he mumbled, "Be right back." Then he disappeared into the garage and returned carrying an oblong box that he put in front of me.
'My idea! Don't blame Huggy!!' was written across the top in that familiar hand.
After a few moments of me just sitting and staring at it, Huggy's gnarled fingers settled on my shoulders.
"He -" his voice rasped. He cleared his throat and started over. "He made me promise to give it to you." Huggy huffed a small laugh, "But if it really pisses ya off, all I'm asking is you give me a twenty yard head start - er, make that a two hundred yard shuffle.
I genuinely laughed a little, then braced myself and opened the box.
"It's a pillow? Covered with that shirt he refused to get rid of?" I looked up at Huggy for a clue.
He gave an arthritic shrug. I motioned for him to have a seat. He settled into the chair and lifted the pillow out of the box. "This -" he pointed to a red rectangle near the frayed collar, "is the control switch and," he tugged a short cable like the cell phone charger from beneath the inset, "this is how you charge it up."
"It has a battery? A pillow? Like it does heat or a massage?"
"Heartbeat. It's his heartbeat. He recorded it, sent it in and then they put it on a digital player-pulse thing that's in here."
That made no sense. Why would anyone... oh.
"It's a substitute, a - a replacement? For me t-to sleep with?" I was finally feeling something and Huggy was right. I was pissed off. "What? I'm a puppy that misses its mother? A little kid who needs a security blanket? Does he think that's cute? Does - D-did he think I won't notice that he's gone?! I woke up every damn day for over a year knowing he was dying, could die that day! He. Is. Dead. He lasted sixteen months after they gave him less than four and now he's dead and I have to keep living because he made me p-promise and no techie gadget is – is -" Huggy had an amused look on his face. I ran out of steam as fast as I'd boiled over. "And he told you I'd react like this, didn't he? Smug I-know-my-man-sonnuvabitch."
Huggy looked relieved at my show of emotion. I guess he'd been waiting for a sign that I was still here. He leaned in, as if he didn't want any chance of his voice carrying and said, "He confided in me. Told me what you once told him. That listening to his heart was the best way you had to calm down and feel like it was all gonna be okay. That no matter what was wrong with the rest of the world, it couldn't touch you when you were lying there together.” Huggy patted the shirt, just where I would have put my head all those years.
I tried to remember the last time I'd been able to do that. Just listen to the strong cadence and let it all go and have faith. So long. For months I'd dozed with my hand on his chest, feeling that all important rise and fall. Waking to any movement or hitch in breath that signaled he needed me.
"Said it made him feel like a superhero when you'd lay your head down and he could feel your soul go quiet. He just wanted to try to give you that, even after he had to go." Huggy was silent for a moment, then added, "Anita's been gone -" he cleared his throat, tilted his head up towards the ceiling and blinked hard for a minute before continuing. "She's gone near five years, but some nights I really miss hearing that gawdawful snoring next to me."
Somehow during Huggy's speech, my hand had crept across the table and my fingertips now touched the faded shirtfront.
Huggy sighed before he continued, "Look, the way I see it, this don't replace him. It's just, ah, you know, a complement to the memories, like a photograph or tchotchke." He nudged the pillow so it slid under my hand. "Don't know why you're even surprised by this. You know you never could stop him from worrying about ya."
It was warm from being in the garage, the worn fabric still carrying a hint of his aftershave. The familiar scent teased up memories of our lifetime together. Happiness and fear, passion and quiet, fights and making up, wins and losses. Me and Thee.
I wouldn't use the thing. Not yet. I'd put it out of sight for a time, on the couch in our now rarely used office or the catch-all hall closet. But I knew that one night in the future, when I couldn't get a comforting grip on the memories, I'd go in search of it.
Always got my back, don't you, partner?