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Waking up to kiss you and nobody's there
The smell of your perfume still stuck in the air
It's hard
Yesterday I thought I saw your shadow running round
It's funny how things never change in this old town
So far from the stars
Francesca Bridgerton tossed to her bed’s right side and craned her neck to the pillow next to hers. She was stuck by the cold emptiness of that side of her bed. It was no longer their bed but hers. She still couldn't get used to that change. It had been a month and it still surprised her to find him gone.
She turned back to her side of the bed, staring at the ceiling. Her chest tightened and she couldn't breathe. It was happening again, She thought to herself. Everyday for the last two weeks, she had been wrecked with such devastation which gave way to panic attacks. She remembered the breathing exercises she found online and put them to use. The feeling in her chest only grew worse. She curled into her body - some delusional part of herself trying to hide from the pain.
Finally, she yanked up the oversized shirt she had on to her nose. She took a deep breath. John's familiar scent filled her nose and she started to calm down. She mentally listed off the types of smells she detected.
John's CK cologne, fresh laundry and a hint of whiskey.
There was just something about his cologne and the smell of clean clothes that made her nostalgic for John. She continued with her grounding exercise of listing the things she saw, heard and felt around her. Her hammering heart started to slow and her chest pains started to ease. It was easier to breathe. She didn't feel like dying. She felt safe enough to deduce her panic attack had come and gone. She took a quick whiff of his shirt again before getting up for the day.
It was hard but she had to do it. She took her time to peel his nightshirt off her body, unable to part with it so soon. She folded it carefully and placed it in her pajama drawer. She quickly got dressed and ignored the aching in her heart. It was always the same every morning since he had passed.
Francesca rubbed her chest in a futile attempt to ease the ache. She adjusted her sleeves, pulling them up an inch before sighing. She didn't like how reliant she had become of it but opened John's drawer nonetheless. She pulled out his last cologne bottle and did two quick sprays on each wrist. Wanting to relish in his scent for a moment longer, she brought up both wrists to her nose and sniffed them. With closed eyes, she tried to imagine he was still here. He had gone too soon, and her mind could barely process it.
Entering the kitchen, she could have sworn she saw a shadow. She rationalised it as her mind playing tricks. She had spent the last 3 years waking up to John cooking breakfast every single morning. It was odd to walk into an empty kitchen.
She shook her head and dragged herself over to the cabinets.
"I know how to cook….sort of." She tried to reaffirm herself. She scoffed at herself as soon as she said it. Who was she kidding? She knew how to cook on a basic level. John, however, was the chef between them. He always knew what she wanted on any given morning. He would whip up world class breakfast dishes for her. She could make scrambled eggs…kind of. John taught her once.
Looking around her flat, she remembered a time this kitchen was filled with such laughter every morning. She took out the pan, butter and eggs. She pulled out her spice drawer to retrieve the bottle of mixed herbs.
The morning he taught her how to cook scrambled eggs was one of the funniest. He always teased her about her lack of cooking abilities. She remembered him wiping raw egg on her nose. It was so silly they burst into laughter. His laugh still echoed through their apartment halls. She lost herself in the flashback, cooking on autopilot.
She hadn't even realised how long she had been sucked into the past till she smelled burnt eggs. She reached out to grab the pan handle instinctively but accidentally grabbed the pan itself. She yelled in surprise as the heat burnt her.
"Goddammit!" She cursed. She wasn't usually one to swear but she didn't care. She was angry. She wanted to feel every bit of that anger. She hated how lonely she was. She hated that he had left her behind.
Most of all, she hated how everything in her house seemed the same yet everything had changed.
~~~
And I want to tell you everything
The words I never got to say the first time around
And I remember everything
From when we were the children playing in this fairground
Wish I was there with you now
After Francesca had managed to save the burnt eggs - they were only slightly burnt, she reasoned with herself - she just mindlessly did her tasks. Eat her breakfast, wash her plate and put it away. She hadn’t come off autopilot since John’s funeral. Finally after staring at her dish rack for what seemed like hours after breakfast, Frannie decided to snap out of it. She despised her empty apartment. The only way she knew she could find some reprieve was a certain Stirling cousin. She picked up her cell and called him.
Honestly after trying to reach him for a month now, she was expecting another decline or getting his voicemail. If she heard her own voice saying “You have reached Michael Stirling, I am too busy right looking in the mirror, try again later.” one more time, she might just throw her phone into a lake. It was the funniest thing she ever did and loved that he still kept it. She especially adored that she could hear John’s laugh in the background. Maybe that’s why she called Michael more than she should have - knowing that he wouldn’t pick up - just to hear John’s laugh whenever she missed him. At the same time, she hated listening to a version of herself that no longer existed. She knew he was grieving but so was she. She gave him the time and space he needed. But she needed her best friend too.
Michael was the one person who had known and loved John the way she had. The only person who had loved him just as fully. He was her one link to the husband she had lost, and she hated him for staying away. She could never hate him but in this instance she just found him so selfish for shutting himself away when they both knew they would be better off supporting each other.
After having been ghosted for over a month, Frannie was surprised when Michael picked up. He didn’t say anything, just let out a quiet sigh.
“Michael, are you there?” “Yes, Francesca.” She couldn’t place why it stung so much that he used her full given name. He sounded exhausted. Which is exactly why she didn’t bother chiding him for ignoring her after John’s funeral. She didn’t realise how hard it had become to talk to him until this moment. She gathered every bit of courage to ask him over for some company and mentally prepared for a no.
“Would you like to go out for a walk around Hyde Park or something? I could use the company.” She asked, quietly hopeful for a yes.
He hesitated in responding, before finally saying, “Sorry, I’m busy.”
She knew he was making up a lie before he even said it. She wasn’t one for loud and accusatory confrontations. Why yell when the other person can hear you perfectly? It was a matter of picking the right words and tone to get her point and annoyance across about his avoidance.
“I understand, Michael.” She pursed her lips, her tone was neutral but they both knew her better. She was frustrated with him, she didn’t have to tell him that. She never did. It was scary and marvellous how well he knew her, just as well as John did. She let out a quiet breath, reminding herself to be patient with him, “You know where I will be if you need me.” She said and before he could respond, she clicked the phone off. It wasn’t her finest moment but it is what it is. She just wished he would let her be there for him, her own selfish needs aside. Shaking her head gently, she took a deep breath and got dressed to head out.
~~~
“And I want to tell you everything//The words I never got to say the first time around//And I remember everything.” The song played into her ears as she wrapped her arms around her cream overcoat, pulling it tighter around her body for comfort and more warmth. She donned one of John’s beanies while her chin & neck disappeared into her favourite red scarf. She hummed along to the song, admiring the trees and fighting the urge to break down at the words.
Her mother/aunt-in-law, her own mother and Michael aside, there was truly only one person she wanted to talk to about John’s death. And he was no longer here. Every day for the past month, she would turn to his side of the bed or just call out to their empty house to tell him whenever something happened. It was such a natural instinct to tell him everything that she couldn’t just unlearn in four measly weeks.
She walked and walked until she reached the playground she played in as a child with her own siblings. She had little flashes of it. How El and her would always team up to chase around Greg and Hy as toddlers. How the older four would indulge them in playing hide and seek sometimes. She missed her siblings in times like this. They were extremely supportive the first few days after and still are, the check in texts don’t stop. But it was one of those times she needed to sit with this on her own. All of them knew that and respectfully gave her the space to do so.
She found a little bench, overseeing the park and she just kept her playlist playing as she relaxed against the backrest and people watched. Soon, the people before her started to fade away. All she could see was him. Gone were the memories of her childhood spent playing here. Instead, she was confronted with ghost memories of when they were babysitting Kate and Anthony’s children a year ago.
John and her had brought the kids to this very playground. Edmund II and Mikesh - or as the family affectionately nicknamed them Neddy and Keshy - were practically climbing all over John. Neddy was on his Uncle’s back with his little arms wrapped around John’s neck, yelling triumphantly as if he was riding his uncle like a horse. While Keshy was squealing with giggles as her husband swung him back and forth like a swing. It was such a wholesome sight. Francesca remembered how much tenderness she felt for John in that moment. She also recalled how he had let them run loose around the playground and came back to her on the bench. While keeping an eye on them, he turned to her slightly.
“What’s that look in your eye?” He asked curiously. He could guess, knowing her well enough but wanted to hear it from her directly. She could have said anything, “You were so good with the kids” or “You look cute.” instead what came out was:
“I want a baby.” She shocked herself as soon as the words materialised before them. John simply blinked for a moment before breaking out into a grin.
“Let’s do it.”
“Really?”
She blinked up at her husband. He nodded, each bob of his head more sure than the last. When they got home after dropping off their nephews, they didn’t waste any time at all creating a little Bridgerton-Stirling.
Absentmindedly staring at the empty swing set before her, her hand went to her abdomen. Her fingers grazed over it ever so slightly. She yearned for what could have been. Wishing and hoping for one last piece of him. As soon as the thought entered her mind, she chastised herself for being so selfish. How could she wish for a child - their child - when he wasn’t going to be around to watch them grow? When she was a barely functioning adult herself at the moment, let alone being able to be a present mother. She would push past the grief for them. She knew she would. Like how Mary did for Kate and Edwina. Like how her own mother did after a few years.
She interrupted her own train of thought. There was no point in thinking about this when it will never happen. John was gone. And he was never coming back. Francesca was still grappling with the fact that this was her new reality.
If the whole world was watching I'd still dance with you
Drive highways and byways to be there with you
Over and over the only truth
Everything comes back to you
The walk in Hyde Park was unhelpful so she decided to go back to the lesser of two evils. The empty apartment. She didn’t know why she was feeling particularly masochistic today, but had decided to torture herself even more by putting on their wedding video.
She clutched her throw pillow close to her chest, burying the lower half of her face into it. Her cobalt eyes peeking out ever so slightly from it to watch John, handsome as ever in his tuxedo, dancing with her younger self. Her mind went back to that exact moment. She had relished in how he only had eyes for her. How he was looking at her as if they were the only two people in the room. Oh, the way he made her laugh as he spun her around and dipped her.
They were inseparable from the moment they had said ‘I do’. All through their reception, they always had their arms wrapped around each other. She especially loved how he would hold her with both hands. He would have his right arm around her waist and she would have hers around his torso as one does. However, it was extra special when he linked their left hands together behind his back.
It's so hard
So hard
And I want to tell you everything
The words I never got to say the first time around
And I remember everything
Frowning at the screen, she felt the resentment creep up on her. She hated the happy versions of themselves on the screen. They were so happy, unaware of what’s to come. She would give anything to have John clasp their hands together behind his back as they walked down the streets together again.
There was so much she didn’t get to tell him. She just wanted to tell him she loved him again. It was the little things. She missed talking to him during their nightly routines. She just wanted to lay against his warm body and tell him how her day was. Tell him about the funny little questions the kids asked her in class that day. Then it would be his turn to tell her about how much grief the city council office was giving him. He would sardonically compare his rivals to the worst kind of toddlers.
She remembered it all. Sometimes if she loses herself in her mind long enough, she swears she could feel him again. Lazy fingers grazing up and down her arms. They finally end up settling over the back of her hands, brushing them along her knuckles. A stifled giggle would end up escaping her lips. He would smile down at her as he turned over his fingers to play with hers.
Over and over the only truth
Everything comes back to you
And I know that it's wrong
That I can't move on
But there's something about you
Goosebumps were littered over her arms as she saw and felt him cuddling her like he used to. The very same way he would affectionately smile down at her. She blinked, not believing it. It was him. The sight of him, his signature scent and touch filled her senses.
Letting his presence wash over her, she started to hum softly at the small comfort. Before they both knew it, she was composing a new melody. Her fingers laced in his started to twitch. He grinned, knowing exactly what was going to happen. Bringing up her fingers to his lips, he kissed them softly and nudged her to the piano. "Go create a symphony, my little composer."
Everything about this felt like their normal nightly cuddles. Yet something in her gut told her she couldn't leave him. She turned into his side, burrowing into his soft jumper.
"No," she said quietly and if Francesca Bridgerton did whine, he would have said that sounded vaguely like a whine. "I don't want to leave you."
"I'm right here." He coaxed gently. She felt the feather soft kiss against her hair before her body pulled itself to her favourite instrument.
She sat by her prized pianoforte; rested her foot lightly against the pedal, flexed her fingers before placing them on the keys in a graceful cascade. She decided it would be played in G. She pressed one of the pedals under her heel to transpose it to +2 up. Then the music overtook her. Her fingers danced delicately, staying in the middle of the keyboard while her instrument produced the most heart-aching tune she has ever heard. [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=plLd9D6Fnko]
Slowly, she opened her eyes. She wanted to stay in the moment just a little longer. The feeling of something being lost within her had returned. She couldn’t dare turn around - she didn’t have to, to know he was gone. Her music had always grounded her. This was an unfortunate consequence.
She wanted him back. To do their night routines again, to hear about his day again, to hear about how Michael had called him one too many times to pick him up from a bad hookup. Just one more time.
Time was all she wanted. Deep down, she knew. She could never have it back.
You still make me nervous when you walk in the room
Them butterflies they come alive when I'm next to you
If the whole world was watching I'd still dance with you
Drive highways and byways to be there with you
The next few days were her own personal hell. After seeing him - she felt him for crying out loud - her grief came back tenfold. She consumed everything that had even a hint of him. Flipping through photo books, rereading their texts and the love letters he wrote while he was away on business trips and of course, rewatching their wedding video. She memorised every part of it until they were deeply ingrained in her very being. Every feature, laugh line, wrinkle, and the sharp lines of his jaw of his pictures, then every single word he ever wrote for her and moments made together with him - all committed to her memory forever.
As hard as it was to grapple with the loss, she took comfort in the fact that every reminder of him, especially the memory of spun around on the dance floor, still gave her butterflies. A nervous but excited pit at the bottom of her stomach. She loved her husband - well most people loved their spouses but she found it so special that they always had crushes on each other. A small smile graced her features how there were some days they just couldn’t stop staring at the other. There was even one weekend where she simply couldn’t function because her husband was just so gorgeous and lovely, it overwhelmed her. A couple of months later, he had dropped a plate - thank god it was plastic - when she walked into the room and all he could do was gape.
She could see his exact expression in her mind so clearly. A stray giggle escaped her lips. She widened her eyes. It was the first time she had laughed since he was gone. She didn’t know how to feel. Before she could decide, bile quickly rose up to her throat, silencing any coherent thoughts. Racing to the washroom, she threw herself against the toilet bowl. Her hand gripped the top of the seat against the cover as she emptied her insides into the bowl.
As she washed herself up, she didn’t even question if it was a stomach bug or food poisoning. Opening up her phone and tapping her period app, it confirmed what she already knew. 4 Weeks Late, the screen read.
Her body started to be wracked by sobs, unable to control the trembling. She had to tell someone. Turning over her phone in her iron grip, her screen blurred as her hands would not stop shaking. By some miracle, the contact page opened up and she clicked on the first name on her Favourites list.
“Michael, please… come over right now. I… need you.” The tears would not stop pouring down her face. It became even worse as she struggled to get through her words, choking up on occasion. She was too wrapped up in her devastation to discern if it was an actual call or his voicemail. She promptly hung up right after and buried herself in her blankets on the sofa.
~~~
Thirty minutes later, the swift and hurried knocks came at the door before one Michael Stirling came tumbling through the door after violently wrestling his spare key into the knob. Francesca was completely covered under her duvet as she heard her cousin-in-law fight her door. Once the door closed shut behind him, she peeked out gingerly. She watched as his expression fell even more at the sight of her. He crossed the room in two quick and large strides and made his way right next to her on the sofa. Arms reached out in comfort when she stopped him.
She wrapped her arms tightly around her abdomen as she saw her husband’s face in her mind once again. John was going to miss everything. All the milestones of firsts - steps, laughs, cries, dates, birthdays and weddings. She stared hard at her wrapped arms as the tears blurred her vision once more and then she spoke in the quietest whisper.
“Michael, I’m pregnant.”
Everything comes back to you.