The morning of August 11, 2010 was just like any other...
I loved Kurt's 11-7 shift almost as much as he did. Kurt didn't have to leave the house until 10:30. Which meant we could lay in bed together a little while longer, take our time. Get up at the same time. It also meant a shower for me in the morning instead of whenever Gavin chose to go back down to sleep. I don't remember what time we got up. I don't remember what was said. what we did. But I do remember that I go to shower first. Kurt played with Gavin on the floor. And mommy washed her hair.
I can tell you exactly what Kurt was wearing that morning. Its still hanging, unwashed, in the far reaches of our bedroom closet. My bedroom closet. And I can tell you exactly what I slipped on after that shower too. Even though I never wore it again... I think I threw that shirt out, actually. Its funny the details that the mind chooses to remember...
We handed off Gavin shortly after 9. Kurt grabbed his work clothes from the dresser and stepped into the bathroom. The plan - a quick shower, and then it was his turn to feed Gavin breakfast. My last words to him as he shut the bathroom door... "Hurry up. Gavin's getting hungry." I would have said something different, more prophetic, if I had known it was the last words I would ever say to him...
I had a laundry list of things that needed to get done that morning. My parents were coming for a visit, and the house still needed to be cleaned. My plan was to deodorize the carpets while Kurt showered, and then vacuum it up while he fed Gavin. So I got to work. Gavin in one arm, baking soda box in the other, I sprinkled powder on the carpets. And waited for Kurt to finish in the bathroom.
He didn't come out.
I put Gavin down and made him breakfast, swearing under my breath that Kurt was taking too long and I had to get this done on top of everything else that needed to be done.
He didn't come out. Now Kurt was taking a long time.
I fed Gavin, rehearsing the lecture I would give Kurt about taking his sweet time knowing that I had stuff that needed to be done.
He didn't come out. Now Kurt was taking too long.
I cleaned up breakfast. Swept and washed the kitchen floor. Made the beds.
He didn't come out. Now Kurt was taking way too long. Something was amiss, and deep down I knew it. But ignored it. Swore at him instead. It was easier to feel angry than accept something might be wrong.
It was now just past 10:00. If Kurt didn't come out soon, he would be late for work. I still had a list of things to get done, now with a 10-month old in tow.... I had no choice. I had to find out what was taking him so long. I couldn't avoid it any longer...
I headed up the stairs, planning to stick my head in the door and ask him if he was intentionally trying to be late. As I got to the landing, the shower was running loudly. The sound of water hitting water. The bathroom fan humming. I'll never forget it. I still hear it every day.
As I reached that landing and turned to face the bathroom door, all of a sudden my stomach turned. All the anger left. I was terrified. The little voice which had been telling me something was not right was screaming at me now. Kurt was always ready in plenty of time. He never spent 45 minutes in the shower. Hell, I never spent 45 minutes in the shower. Yet the shower was still running. All I heard in that moment was the water. I don't think I was breathing.
Something. Was. Not. Right.
With Gavin in one arm, I opened the bathroom door and stepped in, tracking baking powder from the carpets as I went. To this day I don't know what I expected to see. But nothing could have prepared me for what I saw.....
No comments:
Post a Comment