Free When Things Get Back to Normal by M.T. Dohaney

broken back step. I’m so tired tonight I may even sleep.
AUGUST 1
– Friday
    M.J. – niece and godchild – came to visit. The two of us took off for Maine. It was a sentimental journey because we visited all of the places you and I frequented. Went to our favourite restaurant and were seated at a table for three! I could almost reach over and touch your hand. But all in all, it was the most pleasant few days I have had since November 22.
AUGUST 2 –
Saturday
    The first thing I do every morning when I wake up is to determine whether it is a weekday, a weekend or a civic holiday. Civic holidays are positively the worst, closely followed by the weekends.
    A nice surprise! A package arrived from Toronto. Giorgio perfume from A. Extravagant woman! I’m having lunch today with another friend – the one who gave me this journal. As I said earlier, how fortunate I am to have friends.
AUGUST 10
– Sunday
    Have had several prospective buyers for the house. I can’t deal with their coming, so I make an exit well in advance of their arrival.
AUGUST 12 –
Tuesday
    Summer is ending. I dread the beginning of the university year. I still fantasize about things being “back to normal.” In actual fact, from time to time I find myself thinking, I’ll do this or that when things get back to normal. And I still can’t find solace anywhere. Everyone should have a place where they can feel safe and secure and at peace. I used to be able to find all of these in this house.
AUGUST 14 –
Thursday
    Finally cleaned out the garage. I even painted the concrete floor. It looks so great, I envy the new owner.
AUGUST 16 –
Saturday
    I went to the market today. It was the first time since November. The new produce was piled high in the differentstalls. A couple I knew spoke to me, and because this was the first time I had seen them since your death, they offered their condolences. Later I saw them buying cut flowers, smugly sure of their togetherness – at least it appeared so to me. That hurt! It seems everywhere I turn I run into pain.
    Neighbours had a party. They didn’t ask me, although last year we both were asked. They reasoned that I wouldn’t have wanted to go. I wouldn’t have, but I still would have liked to be asked.
AUGUST 27 –
Wednesday
    Lately I’ve been flirting with death, or, more aptly, death has been flirting with me. Yesterday I drove up along the St. John River. The water had that soft summer-evening calm you see in late August when the wind has died down and dusk is just beginning to drift in. As I drove along, glancing from time to time from the road to the river, I idly wondered whether there was as much quiet and peace at the bottom of the river as there seemed to be at the top. In the midst of my wondering, a seductive, siren-like voice – the voice Circe must have used to lure sailors to their death – whispered in my ear. “No need to keep wondering about the river, Jean. Find out for yourself. Just ease your grip on the steering wheel.” Obediently, but ever so gingerly, I loosened my grip.
    The soothing voice coaxed, “Loosen up a little more. A tiny bit more.” Just as I was uncurling my fingers, a commanding voice ordered, “Don’t do it! What if you bungle the job? Think of the consequences!” Afterwards I wondered whether it was your voice that gave the command. It did have that reasoned and reasonable tone of an engineer. But no matter who spoke the words, they were good words. What if I did indeed botch the job? I thought about the two women I know who recently, but for different reasons, tried to abort their stay here, each unsuccessfully, and now their lives are worse than before. I jerked the wheel to the left and made a quick U-turn and headed back home, hugging the far edge of the road all the way.
    But the temptress returned again today. I was walking to work, and just before I was to cross