text: &#x200B; “Make sure you don’t pick a squeaky one,” he says as he continues forward into Walmart. I give a few carts a rudimentary test drive, avoiding any that make any kind of unpleasant noise, knowing it irritates him and ruins our shopping trip. Well, makes the shopping trip even less bearable. “If you’re good, I’ll let you pick out a treat!” he says. I roll my eyes at him and make my way to the shampoo aisle. “How are you on shampoo, soap, deodorant?” I ask. “Uh...” he says, hesitating, “shit, I think I’m fine?” “Andy, I told you to check before we left.” I say in an exasperated sigh. “I know, babe, I forgot...” “Well, if you end up with smelly armpits this week that’s on you.” “Don’t be sassy.” he says with a shit eating grin. “Come on, let’s move on.” I say, directing him to the pet supplies. “How are we on dog food?” We continue on like this for twenty minutes, picking up items we need, filling up the cart and stressing about the total. “Close your eyes, babe, we’re passing the books...” he says dramatically. “You said I could get a treat!” I exclaim loudly. “Fine, fine, pick one out.” He throws his arms up in a conceding motion, as if he would ever deny me the purchase of a book. I make quick work of it and pick one of the titles on my “to be read” list and grab an additional one, trying to sneak it behind the first book. “That appears to be two books, sweetie.” he says with a raised eyebrow. “Well, what if I read the first book super fast, I’ll need a second one as a runner up...” I explain. “Besides, one is ten dollars and the other is seven...” “Are you worth seventeen dollars?” he asks, bringing his hand to his chin as if contemplating my cash value. “You’re going to hurt my feelings!” I say, lightly smacking his arm. “You’re worth the world, baby.” he says with that infuriating grin I’ve grown to love with my entire soul. “That’s what I thought.” I said. “I’ll settle for seventeen dollars, today, though.” “Deal.” We make quick work of picking up a new pair of tennis shoes for him, a package of earbuds for me, and get side tracked looking at baby clothes. “Look at how freaking cute this is!” I holler as I hold up a onesie with dinosaurs on it. “Okay, that’s incredibly cute.” he agrees. “I can’t wait to have a little baby to dress up, I’m going to be ridiculous with it, I just know it.” I say. “Someday, babe.” His voice is full of love as I look over and catch him staring at me with those warm, dark chocolate eyes. I can’t help but smile as I think hopeful thoughts of settling down and having children with this man. “Someday *soon*, I hope.” I say. “Someday.” We make our way to the cleaning supplies aisle and grab some more products we’ve either ran out of or are about to run out of. “How are we on toilet paper?” I ask. “You’re the one who uses the most, I don’t keep track of it.” he says. “Oh, well, have fun wiping with your hand from now on.” I say with a glare. “Another sassy remark? You’re gonna end up bored with just one book.” he threatens. I let out an obnoxiously loud laugh and check myself, not wanting to be one of *those people* in the store. “I’ve missed that laugh,” he says. “What?” I ask, confused. Surely I’ve been laughing just as much as I usually do. “Nothing,” he says. “What else do we need?” “We’re onto groceries now. Let’s go get a pack of water and start back in that corner?” I ask. He gestures in front of him, “Lead the way, beautiful.” We argue over how many energy drinks he can get and whether stick butter is better than tub butter, how much cottage cheese is too much cottage cheese and which creamer to get. “Why *wouldn’t* we get the Rice Krispies creamer?” he asks me as if it’s a no brainer. “It just doesn’t sound good, babe. Let's get something we know we both like.” “That’s boring, baby. Let’s try something new!” “Fine, get it.” I cave. “Why don’t we get a small bottle of the Rice Krispies one and then something you like, too. That way you aren’t stuck with something you don’t like.” “Deal.” It's my turn to flash a huge smile at him. If there’s one thing I love about this man it’s his unwavering ability to make sure I’m happy and taken care of. We pick up a few different kinds of lunch meat, a few tubes of burger, a package of chicken thighs and a few other meats for the week. “Remember the time we panic bought like eight packages of cheese?” he asked. “Yeah, that was ridiculous.” I say before chuckling loudly again. “I didn’t think we were ever going to get through all of that.” “It’s always something,” he says “If not too many packages of cheese we get too many things to drink or too many snacks.” “We’re hoarders.” I joke. We then begin weaving through the dry goods aisles, picking out cereals and snack crackers, spices we’re low on and baking goods, a large bag of rice and a few cans of veggies. Both of us weave around each other in a delicate tango as we pluck items from shelves, careful not to bump into one another, laughing when we do. “It’s warm in here.” he says, handing me his flannel. I slip it on, reveling in the fresh warmth. I take a deep breath and smile as the notes of cedar, mint and *him* invade my senses, making me feel at home. “Looks good on you, baby.” “What can I say, I have good tastes.” I say. “In men or the flannel?” he asks. I shrug my shoulders and round the corner into the frozen food aisle. “Ouch!” I holler, jumping at the sharp pinch to my left buttcheek. “Andy, we’re in the store!” I holler. “Well, what did you learn?” he asks. “I’m not even sure?” I say. He replies by pinching my butt once more. I laugh and attempt to return the pinch to his posterior, laughing harder as he dances out of reach. I pretend to be preoccupied with a box of frozen corn dogs, waiting for his guard to be dropped. I “compare prices” on another box of the frozen foods as he steps beside me to see what has my attention, just before I reach over and give him a good pinch. “Ouch, babe! I hate being pinched.” he complains. “Well, what did we learn?” I mimic. “That’s it...” he says. He backs me up against the frozen cooler door and tickles my sides until I’m begging for mercy, gasping for breath. A wave of embarrassment washes over me as I scope the area to see if there’s any onlookers, relieved when I don’t see anyone. “I miss you.” I say to him. “I’m right here, baby.” he leans in and kisses me before wrapping his arms around me. “I’m always right here.” Emotion clogs my throat, I chalk it up to being overly grateful to have him. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” I say. “Lucky thing for you, you’re stuck with me.” He kisses the top of my head. “Forever.” I smile and blink rapidly to clear my vision. It must be close to that time of the month, stupid hormones. Finishing up the frozen foods on our mental checklist, we continue to the produce section. We grab a few pre packaged salads, some garlic, onions and potatoes for a soup we have planned to make and some fresh herbs. “No, you don’t need to get any lemons.” he scolds. “You never use them, we pay for them and then they turn into science experiments on the counter.” “I want them for water!” I protest. “If you *used* them I’d be all for it, but you never do!” he counters. “It’s wasteful.” “They’re like sixty cents!” “Put a book back and you can get ONE lemon.” he jokes. I roll my eyes and put three lemons in one of the plastic produce bags. “Ooh! Look at these goodies!” he says, rubbing his hands together. He hands me a package of mini muffins with candied pecans baked into the dough. “Do you deserve these?” I ask, mimicking his raised eyebrow. “Yes. Yes I do.” he says. I laugh and continue to the bin with tomatoes and avocados. The store’s radio system comes to life with one note repeated softly a handful of times, I smile as I realize what song is playing. *When there’s nowhere else to run, is there room for one more son? One more son.* *If you can, hold on. If you can, hold on. Hold on.* Andy begins to belt out the first verse of one of our favorite songs by The Killers, completely unashamed and with absolutely no inhibitions. I feel my cheeks flush with heat, not nearly as self confident as he is. I begin peeking around us, checking for onlooking eyes or anyone outright gawking at us, at the scene before them. “Sing with me, baby.” he says before crooning into the chorus. “Andy, we’re in the store...” I say. “It’s fine baby, it’s just us.” he says, grabbing my hands to pull me into a dance. It’s just us... It’s just us... My head begins to spin, confusion insidiously creeps into my expression, muddling my comprehension and mental stability. It’s just us... “Andy...” I begin to question. “Shh baby, it’s okay.” he says before continuing to sing. It’s just us. Most shopping trips are full of stress, tension and dread for me. I hate running into people, zigzagging in a wild path to avoid being hit by carts or hitting others who stop without warning. I hadn’t felt so much as a second of annoyance or stress this entire time. Come to think of it, I hadn’t *seen* so much as a single person, not a single employee. It’s just us. Confusion takes the wheel full force as I spin in a slow circle, checking to see if there’s anyone else in the store. Was it closed? Did we break in? It’s just us. I glanced at the deli, no workers. I glanced at the checkout lanes, no workers. I glanced down the long aisle leading back to electronics, no workers. I glanced out to the parking lot and saw cars, but no shoppers or loiterers waiting outside of the doors or walking to their vehicles. I saw *no one.* It’s just us... “Andy...” “*If you can, hold on.”* “Baby...” “*If you can, hold on.”* Tears well up behind my lower lids, my eyes pricking with a burning sensation, threatening to spill their contents at any second. It’s just us. “You’re not...” I choke on emotion clogging my throat. Andy grabs me and pulls me into a tight embrace, his arms wrapped tightly around my shoulders as he rests his head on top of mine. I always love being held by him like this, his six-foot-four height surpassing my five-foot-five greatly, my head nestling between his pectoral muscles comfortably. Nothing has felt more like home than when he holds me like this as I breathe in the scent that is uniquely him. “I love you, sweetheart.” he says softly. “I love you, too.” I sob. It’s just us. The song slowly fades as it finishes, silence wrapping its cruel void around us once more. It's just us. “You’re not...” I try once more, taking a deep breath, knowing my next words are going to collapse everything. “You’re not actually here, are you?” I ask. It's just us. “I’m with you, always.” he says quietly, placing another kiss on top of my head. “You know what I mean...” I say. “I do, baby.” he says. “I’m so sorry.” I inhale deeply, the breath going nowhere, and let out a shuddering sob, not ready for this to be over. I cling to Andy as tightly as I possibly can, fervently praying for it to be tight enough to keep him with me forever. “I’m always with you, Allie, always.” he says once more. “Any time you close your eyes I’m right there.” The sobs are painfully ripping through my chest at this point, threatening to suffocate me. “I love you so much.” I say, plead. “I love you so much, too, beautiful.” he says. “I’m never far...” he says. I feel him place one more kiss to the top of my head. I release my arms and wipe my eyes, desperate to find some relief from the chasm ripping my heart into two. I wipe my wet hands on my pants and reach out to embrace Andy once more, panicking as my arms close in on nothing. I open my eyes and blink rapidly, hoping to will him back into place in front of me. “Andy?” I holler, panic gripping my voice in a chokehold. “Andy!” I spin in a circle, selfishly praying he’s playing a prank on me, hiding behind the bin full of avocados or in an aisle out of sight. I take off in a dead sprint, checking up and down every aisle, screaming his name as loud as I can, my throat raw from sobbing and screaming. I run through the entire store twice over, frantically searching every aisle, hiding spot and shelf. I look down and am comforted only briefly as I realize I’m still wearing his flannel. His scent no longer lingers on the fabric but feeling the soft material cover my arms and torso brings enough comfort for me to drag in a ragged breath. I sink to my knees as the depression takes over me once more, a process I’m painfully familiar with by this point. The shelves around me slowly disappear and morph into nonsensical things, a tree house, a dog house, a large cardboard box. The integrity of the dream slowly falling away after my realization. I wasn’t here grocery shopping with Andy, I wasn’t anywhere with Andy. I’m at home, in bed, unsure of what day it is as I’ve lost track. *If you can, hold on.* It’s been days- weeks? months?- since Andy passed away in the accident, taking him from this world and my life. I had no idea how long it had actually been, grief cripping any and all sense of normalcy and functioning. My eyes slowly open, damp with tears that had escaped from my dream and found their way into real life. My lungs struggle to fill with air, my chest heavy with sorrow. I wrap the flannel around me tighter, squeezing my eyes shut, begging to restart the dream. I know better than that. The dream comes and goes as it pleases, never allowing me to manifest it when I need it the most. Whether we’re grocery shopping, making dinner or going for a hike, the beginning is always bliss as I look into his eyes unaware of real life. The end always cripples me as it disappears from my subconscious. *If you can, hold on.* I know Andy is with me, always. From the random breezes that dance through my window on cool fall days to the rays of sunshine that kiss my skin as I read in the reading chair he got me, to the warm cups of tea in the eclectic mugs he always gifted me to the random wafts of his scent that come from nowhere. I know I’ll never truly be without him, not entirely. I know I should be grateful for that, welcoming of that fact, even. I feel selfish when I beg and wish for *more*. *At least you can still smell him from time to time, at least you remember the color of his eyes, at least, at least, at least.* I don’t want “at least”. I yearn for the future that was stripped from us, from the what-if’s and maybes, to the plans both spoken and yet to be spoken, for the somedays. I glance down at the ring on my finger on my left hand, the shine in the diamond either mocking me or pitying me, I haven’t decided which it is yet today. We hadn’t made plans further than “let’s get married”. At the time it was more than enough for me, just belonging to him more than being his girlfriend. It was mature, refined, *adult*. If only I had been a little more impatient to actually marry him, I could have his last name as a reminder of him and our relationship. *At least I had a ring.* I take a deep breath and sit up, knowing I need to at least do *something* today. *At least do something today.* I remind myself that Andy wouldn’t be content with me wallowing in despair every day, would be down right furious at even a single tear shed for him. I get up from the bed I shared with him, avoiding glancing at his pillow and make my way to the living room. Reading is a waste of time, I can’t focus on the words on the page, much less the story. I make my way to the couch and turn on a mindless program on Netflix, something about a tattoo competition. I avoid things like sappy romances and cooking shows- a regular tv genre we shared for watching with each other. I make it a total of five minutes before I find myself laying down on the couch, resting my head on a pillow, begging my brain to transport me to another realistic dream with my soulmate. *At least I got up from the bed...* If you can, hold on. If you can, hold on. Hold on.