Summoning every ounce of courage I possessed, I stepped out of the car and walked up the concrete path. As I stepped onto the porch, I immediately noticed a distinct smell clinging to the entryway.
It smelled heavily like cigarettes. I paused, finding that detail incredibly interesting.
Ray supposedly quit smoking back in 1998, suffering through months of nicotine patches and foul moods. Or so I was told. Suddenly, those faint, unplaceable odors I’d caught on his coats over the years—the ones he blamed on smoke-filled poker games—made perfect, sickening sense. I smoothed my hair, a nervous habit I’ve had since I was a teenager, and knocked twice on the heavy wooden door.
I heard footsteps approaching. The deadbolt clicked, and the door opened to reveal a woman in her late fifties. She had kind eyes, tired lines around her mouth, and she was holding a half-empty coffee mug. I braced myself for confusion. I expected her to ask what I was selling or if I was lost.
Instead, the woman who opened the door looked at me, and the polite smile instantly vanished from her face. The color completely drained from her cheeks, leaving her ashen. She didn’t ask who I was. She gripped the edge of the door frame as if her knees were about to give out and whispered, “You’re Eleanor.” My breath hitched in my throat.
Hearing my own name in this stranger’s mouth felt like a physical blow. “Yes,” I managed to say, my voice trembling but surprisingly firm. “And you are?” “I’m Sarah,” she replied softly, stepping back and gesturing for me to come inside. “I’ve been telling Ray for five years that this day was going to come.
I just didn’t think it would be today.” I walked past her into a living room that felt like a bizarre, funhouse mirror version of my own life.
Sitting in the corner of the room was a worn leather recliner, the exact same model Ray insisted we buy for our own family room.
On the mantelpiece, interspersed with photos of children I didn’t recognize, was a framed photograph of my husband. He was smiling, his arm wrapped tightly around Sarah at what looked like a beach vacation.
