Wherever You Are

Day 1 – 6:32 p.m.

Ivy Freeman stared at a rainbow of wine bottles lining the dusty metal rack. The sticky floor and cardboard aroma of the corner liquor store had become more than a Friday night ritual—it thawed the cold bitterness of the world, at least for a little while.

Generic table wine… she thought, snatching the $6.99 bottle. Cheaper than Prozac.

“Do you have a Cork Club number with us?” the clerk asked.

“5285,” she muttered, distracted as she dug through her purse.

“Here you are, Thomas and Ivy Freeman,” the clerk announced, then leaned in like a game show host. “So, ladies' night out? Or a date night with the mister?”

Ivy shuddered at his words, a gut punch that knocked her off balance. Her purse slipped from her hand, its contents scattering across the counter.

Her cheeks flushed as she scrambled to gather eyeliner, tissue, and loose change. “Thomas is no longer with us,” she said, her voice soft and eyes down.

The clerk's face crinkled in horror. Unsure what to say next, he paused and flashed a nervous smile. “Ah… well, I’m sorry to hear that. Um… I guess you qualify for the… um, five percent widow discount.”

Where is the nearest hole I can crawl inside? Ivy thought.

The rest of the transaction passed in silence, broken only by the rustle of a paper bag and the clip-clop of Ivy’s high heels as she left the store and disappeared into the night.

DAY 1 - 7:42 p.m.

The half-empty bottle made a soft glug-glug as the burgundy wine filled a glass on the kitchen table.

Ivy's fingers returned to the laptop crowded with sympathy cards and wilted lilies. The cursor scrolled past unread messages in her inbox, subject lines asking how she was doing, pleading for returned calls.

The cursor drifted into the corner of the screen, settling on the music player icon. With a click, the screen pulsed to life, loading a playlist called Our Life.

Warm, warbly electric piano tones sent a shiver up Ivy’s spine, fracturing the alcohol-weakened wall holding her emotions at bay. A beat later, the drums kicked in and Freddie Mercury’s voice rang out, “Ooh, you make me live.”

Tears rolled off her cheek, catching on her goosebump-covered arms before soaking into her blouse. The lyrics shifted to, “Oh, you’re the best friend that I ever had.” Ivy’s composure shattered, her pent-up raw pain unleashed, forcing its way to the surface in a wave of uncontrollable sobbing.

However, with every beat of music, a vivid picture began to form in her mind: a scuffed-up hardwood floor, the dimly lit lanterns underneath a purply-orange twilight sky, the sandalwood musk of Thomas’s tuxedo pressed against her cheek, and the silent admiration of family as friend watching the first dance of Mr. and Mrs. Freeman.

The more she tried to hold onto the comforting memory, the more it slipped away. The hardwood floor faded into cold, mundane vinyl slabs. The harsh flicker of a vital sign monitor replaced the lanterns, and sandalwood became the sting of antiseptic. Once vibrant and full of life, Thomas wore a hospital gown, his cheeks sunken, his skin the color of dull candle wax.

Ivy tried to focus on the familiar ridges of his face, but her gaze kept drifting to the bulge under the sheets—the colostomy bag that crinkled with every small movement, a reminder of everything that had changed.

As the song faded, Ivy’s eyes snapped open at the sudden silence. Her phone was beside the wine bottle, quiet and lifeless, begging for attention. She unlocked it, opened her messages, and pressed “Hubby”.

The last text was dated almost three months ago:

Hubby: No matter what happens, know you made this life worth it. I love you.

Ivy stared at the words, her thumb hovering over the screen, as if the message might change. It wasn’t the first time she’d wondered—if she’d gotten to the hospital sooner, could she have given a proper goodbye? Could she have told him how much he meant, instead of leaving it all unsaid?

Ivy slipped into autopilot, downloading all the implicit feelings from her mind, transferring them through her fingertips, and into a couple of unrefined electronic sentences. She pressed send.

Ivy: Wherever you are, whatever you’re facing, please know that you’re loved. I won’t lie, lately it feels like the weight of the world is on my shoulders, but I keep reminding myself there are other amazing souls in this world like you. That thought helps me keep going. I don’t know if you’ll ever get this, but I just needed to say… I love you.

Ivy swapped the phone for her wine glass and sighed, sinking into the kitchen chair. After a few moments, her mind started to ease—but the sudden ping of her phone made her jump, splashing wine all over herself. She glanced at the notification, which read:

Hubby: Who is this?

Ivy jolted from the chair, the full effects of the alcohol hitting her as she stumbled into the table, her sweaty palms fumbling with the phone.

Ivy: Thomas?

Hubby: No, this is Blair. Who is this and how did you get this number?

Ivy crumbled to the ground. The sudden surge of hope vanished, leaving an aching hollowness in her stomach. She reached for the wine bottle, trying to fill the void.

DAY 2

Ivy had stared at the text message all morning. Between sips of coffee, she repeatedly typed and deleted words. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was the need to defend Thomas’s memory. Whatever the reason, she didn’t fully understand it—but she finally hit send.

IVY: This was my husband's phone number. He passed away from cancer.

HUBBY: I’m sorry. I’m also dealing with loss. I just got this phone number last week. She always said I should join the 21st century and get a cellphone.

DAY 4

IVY: It’s weird, for months I’d stare at the last message he sent, pretending a part of him was still with me. Now that message is pushed off the screen.

HUBBY: I still make her tea in the morning. Two cups on the table, out of habit. It makes me sad. It’s like I can’t bring myself to stop. I guess we all hold on in our own little way.

DAY 7

IVY: What was her name?

HUBBY: Elise

IVY: He was Thomas.

DAY 11

HUBBY: Today would have been Elise's birthday. No presents, just your presence, she would say

IVY: Thomas took me to the same restaurant every year on my birthday. I never thought I’d miss cheap tacos and beer so much. Isn’t it strange what we miss the most?

DAY 13

IVY: Do you think you’ll ever be happy again?

HUBBY: Two weeks ago, I didn’t think so. But now I’m starting to see the world in a different light

IVY: Why the sudden change?

Hubby: Something I read

DAY 14

IVY: How did Elise die, if you don’t mind me asking?

HUBBY: Alzheimer’s disease. There’s nothing more devastating than not being able to say goodbye to the person you love

IVY: I know exactly what you mean.

She stared at the screen longer than usual that night. It was odd how the words of a stranger could feel so comforting. No face. No voice. Just a string of letters—and yet they somehow softened the sharp edge of grief.

DAY 16

HUBBY: I read something today that made me think of you. “What we have once enjoyed, we can never lose. All that we love deeply becomes a part of us.” – Helen Keller

IVY: Thank you. I needed to hear that.

DAY 18

IVY: Is it weird that I’ve been anticipating your texts?

HUBBY: Am I weird for checking my phone three times before lunch?

IVY: Yesterday, I called some friends I hadn’t seen in a while. We went for tacos and beer. I laughed for the first time in a while.

HUBBY: This morning, I made tea for one

DAY 20

HUBBY: Would it be too much if I asked to meet you? In person?

IVY: Part of me wants to say yes, but I’m not sure.

HUBBY: I understand

She replayed the message in her head all day. It had only been a few weeks, but somehow he felt more familiar than some people she’d known for years.

DAY 22

IVY: Okay. One coffee. Do you know the diner on 34th Street?

HUBBY: Timmy’s Diner! Elise and I had gone there many times

IVY: Tomorrow at noon. No expectations.

HUBBY: Deal

DAY 23 – 12:01 p.m.

Ivy nestled between two large rips on the booth's cracked leather seat. Her hand trembled up and down like a sewing machine needle, but the rhythmic tapping on the table helped drown out the restaurant chatter and clinking of silverware.

An antique brass bell above the front door rang out as a man stepped inside, a cold breeze trailing behind him that crawled down Ivy’s spine.

He looked to be in his early sixties. Aside from the outdated vest, his white beard and portly frame gave off strong Santa Claus vibes. But his warm eyes and festive smile quickly put Ivy at ease. She rose for a formal greeting, but before she could say a word, he wrapped her tightly in a steady, comforting hug.

“Well… this is kind of weird, isn’t it?” Ivy said softly.

They stood face to face in awkward silence, pretending to scratch invisible neck itches and adjusting out-of-place clothing. As he finally began to speak, Ivy noticed faint tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

“It’s definitely a weird situation,” Blair said with a gruff chuckle. “But you have no idea what this means to me.”

“I wasn’t sure I was going to show up,” Ivy admitted. “But I guess… there was something in the air today.”

“Well, you’re an angel. In more ways than you could possibly know.”

“I must ask. You don’t have any regrets about replying to my first message? It must have sounded crazy.” Ivy asked.

“No. It came at the exact right time, like it was meant just for me. And now… I think my life can go on.”

They sat in the booth, and the conversation quickly turned to weather, tea, and new beginnings.

DAY 1 – 7:48 p.m.

Blair licked the envelope and sealed it shut. With deliberate care, he wrote on the front: To Whom It May Concern.

He placed it on the coffee table beside his phone, his wedding ring, and a framed picture of Elise.

“If there is a God—or whatever you call yourself,” he yelled into the emptiness. “Give me a sign, right now!”

Blair took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly, like blowing out candles on a birthday cake no one baked for him. With quivering fingers, he pulled back the hammer on a Colt revolver and pressed the barrel to his right temple.

“It’s not fair. You taking her away from me. I have nothing left to live for.”

At that moment, his phone buzzed.

A single beep.

The screen lit up with a message from an unknown number.

He read the preview:

“Wherever you are, whatever you’re facing, please know that you’re loved.”