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Atlanta that night. It was over. Bill was dead, they had buried him, and their children had gone back to their own lives and worlds, and after she drove Michael to the airport on Thursday night, Stephanie came back to her empty house, sat down on a chair in the entrance hall, and sobbed. She had never felt so alone in her life.

Chapter 3
    For the next several weeks, Stephanie wandered around her house like a ghost. She lay on her bed for hours, thinking about Bill, wondering what had gone wrong between them, and why. She called her children every day, and it was strange talking to them. They were mourning a father they had never really had. The perfect father, who had always been there for them. Louise even attributed things to him that Stephanie had always done, and Bill never had. It was confusing and upsetting listening to them, and she said as much to Jean when they had lunch three weeks after he died. She looked as though she had lost about ten pounds, and Jean wondered if she had been eating.
    “I don’t know who we’re talking about when I talk to them, or what to say. All those times I covered for him, all the things I did to make him look like a good guy to them, when he was too busy to care what any of us were doing, or even show up. And now suddenly, according to them, he was there at every game, went to every recital and play. Charlotte even told me he used to pick them up at school all the time, and I never did. What am I supposed to say? Do I tell the truth, or leave them their fantasies? I know this sounds crazy, but it even sounds like they’re mad at me for being alive, and sorry I’m not the one who died.”
    “They’re just angry, Steph. And it’s safe to take it out on you.”
    “Well, I’m not enjoying it a lot. The truth is that he loved them even if he didn’t show up. But the reality is he didn’t. He didn’t show up for me either.” But he had done other things that mattered. He had left her and their children well provided for, with sound investments, a house that had increased in value, a trust for each of the children, and large insurance policies that not only covered the estate taxes but left all three children and her a sizable amount. He had been a responsible person, although he had failed her abysmally as a husband, and had been an absentee father, which no one chose to remember. Jean wasn’t surprised.
    “That’s just the way it works. At least you’re all secure. At his age, he might not have done that.” But now Stephanie had to figure out what to do with the rest of her life. She didn’t have a clue. And unless she visited her children in their respective cities, she wouldn’t see them until Thanksgiving, which was more than eight months away. At least when he was alive, she knew Bill would eventually come home every night and fall into bed beside her, even if they didn’t talk to each other. Now she didn’t even have that. She had nothing and no one. No one to take care of, or do errands for, or have dinner with on the weekends. And what if she got sick? If something happened to her? Who would be there for her now, or go to the emergency room with her if she got hurt? She felt totally alone. And just trying to say it to Jean made her cry. She hadn’t stopped crying in three weeks. She wasn’t even sure if she was crying for him, or herself. And she was scared. She suddenly felt so vulnerable.
    “The truth is you’re the one who always held up the world around here. He didn’t. He was always working,” Jean reminded her, to give her back some perspective. Stephanie thought about it for a long moment and then nodded as she blew her nose.
    “I guess you’re right. That was always my job. But at least I knew he was around. Now he’s not.”
    “You’ll be okay,” Jean reassured her gently. “It’s just a big change to get used to. Why don’t we all have dinner next week?” she suggested, and Stephanie hesitated, wondering if it would make her feel worse.