31 Day Writing Challenge #2: Day 21 - Coaster

The door closed on Rhys and the empty house. He leaned against the wood and, for the first time in weeks, thought about himself and what he needed. These had been the worst weeks of his life, and for their entirety, it had been: What did he need to organise? What would she have wanted? What do the kids need? The dogs needed walked or fed or taken to the sitters; his mum, or her mum, needed an answer or an opinion. How were the kids coping? How were Mavis and Joe doing? Was he being there for everyone enough? Was he doing everything right? Was he doing anything right? 

Suddenly, he felt lost with no idea what to do with himself.

Tea.

That's it. He'd have a cup of tea. Tea was the answer to everything, as far as his family was concerned. Pushing himself off the door, he dragged himself to the kitchen. Making a cup of tea was second nature to Rhys, so as his body went to work on brewing, his mind wondered. It took him a few moments to remember the last time he'd made a cup of tea. It had been weeks. He hadn't needed to, there was always someone around consoling him and handing him cup after cup.

It had been the night before he lost her. He'd sent Katie up to bed to get comfy while he put the kids to bed. With the help of Andrew, of course. Thank goodness for Andrew. His eldest son seemed to have more authority with the younger kids than Rhys did. 

After the kids were settled for the night, he'd went downstairs to make the tea and grab some biscuits, before serving them to the beautiful woman he married. Fifteen years together and she still couldn't believe his luck. Katie and Andrew had made the tea throughout the next day, Rhys hadn't needed to bother.

It had been a fluke accident. A blown tyre had caused the attached car to veer out of control. The driver had tried, but there was nothing he could have done. Rhys knew that, he didn't blame the guy. Katie had been walking through town and the car just plowed into her. Rhys had been told that his wife had died on impact, she hadn't suffered. That was something, Rhys hated the thought of her dying slowly and in pain, scared and alone. At least she had died quick. That's what everyone kept saying. But she was still dead. His incredible spouse, the woman her was supposed to grow old with, the mother of his children, was dead. There was no real comfort to be had; there was no lessening that blow.

As he walked out of the kitchen on his coarse to the couch, Rhys realised something that shattered his heart: he had a cup of tea in each hand. Out of habit, he'd made a cup for himself and a cup for Katie. He had been part of a two-some for so long, Rhys had forgotten that it was now just him.

Rhys couldn't bring himself to pour out the extra tea that was contained in his wife's favourate mug, decorated with sketch-style drawings of characters from 'The Aristocats'. He could almost hear Katie in a mock-snooty voice quoting:

'Ladies don't start fights, but we can finish them.'

Smiling at the thought, Rhys placed the cup on the mini coffee table next to his wife's preferred spot on the couch. Her book and customary coaster, both tattered, worn and stained, lay there where she had left them that day, like she would be back any minute.

Dropping himself into his armchair, he went to put his '#1 Daddy' mug onto his own mini coffee table but stopped. There was something missing: the coaster. His coaster. It was the first thing Katie had ever bought him and had survived fifteen years; thousands of cups of tea; three dogs and four kids. They had only been together a couple of months when Katie had handed him a small gift bag telling him she'd got him something he really needed. Turns out what he 'really needed', was a 'My Little Pony' coaster personalised with his name above a portrait of Pinky Pie. In general, Katie was laid back and very little irritated her, but one of her few peeves was people not using coasters, especially in her flat and, at the beginning of their relationship, Rhys had been very good at forgetting this small detail. So, as punishment, his coaster was selected with the intention of embarrassing him. His gift came with a promise, if he used this coaster, he could pick a new one. He never did. For the entirety of their life together, Rhys has exclusively used Pinky Pie's face as his tea's resting place.

And now, it was gone. And so was she.

The grief hit Rhys full force. He couldn't breath and his brain felt like it was being put in a vice. He would have sworn, in that instant, that his heart was planning to give up and stop beating. His eyes glazed over and his throat closed up. Alone in the house, he no longer had any need to stay strong or act like he was coping well. There were no young, confused eyes watching him, looking to him for guidance. No one that would show sympathy and consolations, that would not help at all, if he appeared to crack at all. He could let himself truly feel for the first time since he lost his wife. And he did. Rhys fell apart. He cried; he let out guttural moans; he yelled and screamed and blamed the world. By the time it was over, he'd had a panic attack (his first since he was a teenager) and was hoarse and shaking. 

Katie was dead. 

She wasn't even forty yet and she was dead. It was a truth that didn't seem like it could possibly be true. A fact that he didn't want to trust. How could she be dead? How could it no longer be possible for them to grow old together? How could a reality exist where his children grew up without their mother to raise them? It didn't make sense, it shouldn't be real, yet it was a reality that his family were now living. 

Not knowing what else to do, Rhys did the one thing that felt even remotely normal: he drank his tea. It was cold, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that he was drinking tea, in his home, like always. 

Rhys just sat there. The empty mug in his hands; he didn't feel right putting it down without a coaster and he couldn't bring himself to use any other than his coaster. He felt  so broken that he didn't even have it in him to search for the coaster. He just sat there, in silence, feeling hollow and like the whole world was off somehow. Rhys knew it would never feel just right ever again. An hour went by, and Rhys' bubble of solitary was burst by Elsie dropping the dogs off from their walk. Paws clacked on the kitchen tiles and then the laminate. Out of respect, Elsie had let the dogs in and closed the door behind them, leaving Rhys in the company for his beloved canines. The young woman seemed to always know what people needed: whether it was company or to be given space. And, right now, Rhys needed space.

The two spaniels, one cocker and one springer, greeted their master as enthusiastically as ever, but their hyper-activity quickly dissipated as they became aware of Rhys' mood. Their ears dropped as they huddled around their human. They knew they were needed. The two pedigrees nudged and licked Rhys, as he stroked their fur. The springer, Jasper, as resident lap-dog, did what he did best and plopped himself down across Rhys' legs. While Axel, the pitch black cocker, trotted off towards his bed. Rhys was vaguely aware of the dog hunting through the countless blackets and pillows and toys that his Mummy had filled the dog basket with. After a couple of minutes, the intended item was apparently found as Axel returned and placed his head on the last remaining space on Rhys' lap. Looking down at the mass of black fur, he saw a square of shocking pink encased in his jaw.

His coaster.

Axel gave up the coaster easily, which was out of character as the rascal loved a game of tug-of-war. Rhys admired the coaster: with its bright colours and tea stains; its scratches and bite marks; its beat up edges and all the other effects that his life with Katie and the family they had created together had caused. 

He had never felt so alone, yet he felt her presence more clearly than he had since she had died. She was always with him. In his heart, and in the children they had raised together. They had built a life, he would just have to live it without her.