Mary's Bones

ONE

When I turned again, his figure stood perched against the classroom entrance. Casual clothing clung loosely to his body as if he hadn't just come from the station. He smiled at every lady who walked past him. It was the same million-dollar smile that swallowed me whole when we first met. The same smile I still loved. Not even happily married women could resist his charm.

I rolled my eyes and bent down to pack my tools back into their appropriate kit.

"Ouch, did you just look at me and turn away? Are you ignoring me?" he feigned. I didn't need to turn around to know his hands were clutching his chest. His dramatics knew no limit. He and Cory were the ultimate drama queens.

A pair of arms snuck around my waist from behind, causing me to tense. But I soon relaxed as John's chuckle warmed my ear. He locked his hands together over my bump.

"How was today's session?" he asked.

"It went great. They've been getting more enthusiastic about this project," I answered.

"See? I told you, you're an amazing teacher. We're going to have a little Ms. Van Gogh running around in four months." He twirled me around and grinned.

"Shut up." I laughed and shoved him. 

The laughter was soon gone as I took in John's contemplating expression. Being an artist also meant being an observer. I knew when someone was approaching me with pity. The crook in his spine, the slight bow of his head, and the shift in his footing said it all. He was antsy. My husband was only antsy when he had something to say and didn't know how to say it.

"Spit it out," I demanded.

John grimaced. "Not good at being discreet, am I? Um, I have good news and bad news."

"What is it?"

"Well, for starters, I picked your car up from Tony's. . ." he started.

"And?" One of my eyebrows shot up.

"That's the good news. The bad news is"—he cleared his throat, avoiding my gaze— "I have to go back to work. And I know, I know. You were expecting me to be home with you this afternoon, I was too, but I promise I'll be back before midnight."

I could feel the frown forming on my face. I tried not to let it show, but that was nearly impossible. The irony of our lives was that I hated being alone. But without John for most of the day and now without Cory permanently, I was almost always alone.

"You'll be okay, right?" His frown matched mine.

I opened my mouth to respond. Guilt bubbled inside me instead.

I'd admit, it sucked. There was nothing I could do, though. Before he proposed to me, I knew exactly the kind of life I was saying yes to. As much as I didn't like admitting it. He and Cory had made up their minds about becoming homicide detectives long before they had graduated high school. Sometimes, I hated that their dream became reality. After all, Cory was dead.

"I'll be fine." I shrugged.

"You know, you could always start sorting out his stuff to keep yourself busy." John made sure not to say his name.

I could never tell if he did that for the sake of me not breaking down or him not blaming himself. He blamed himself every day since then, even at times when he thought I was sleeping. I could only imagine what was going on in his head. A bunch of night terrors, most likely. He witnessed what I sometimes wish I had—the proof. Though his hands weren't soaked in my brother's blood, he treated himself like they were.

"Eh, I don't know. It's been a long day. I'm pretty tired and all." I picked up my art kit and began towards the door. John's footsteps were hot on my trail. As he opened the door for me, I hurried through.