The worst day of her life had come without warning, without fanfare; the day even had the nerve to be sunny. She spent the rest of the day sobbing and vomiting on the floor of the office bathroom until Magda finally appeared in the doorway with Hal. Hal collected her from the bathroom and took her home. She slept on the sofa that night, unwilling to sleep in their bed without Mark. She went without food the next day, until she remembered the baby growing inside her and forced herself to eat a bowl of oatmeal with sliced banana. Mark would want her to eat sensibly for the baby.
Since Donald and Moira were over an hour away and not fully functional, Alexis knew the funeral would be left to her. As ideal as they were in so many ways, Alexis realized that the Steamers were not good when things went bad. They were fair weather people. Alexis, on the other hand, was a MacAdams from Mangrove Island. A place of disappointments and tough love. She didn't dissolve when things didn't go well; she toughened up.
Hundreds of people attended the funeral. Alexis didn't know half of them. People who worked with Mark. Friends of the Steamers. Alexis had Mark dressed in a tasteful Armani suit with his favorite red tie. Alexis stood in the foreground with the Steamers beside her. She opted to forgo the obligatory dark sunglasses, staring down at the casket with clear, dry eyes.
A week after the funeral, Alexis began to bleed uncontrollably and she took herself to the hospital where she received the last of her bad news. Mark was dead and now the only part of him that remained was gone, too.
When she finished her story, Alexis wept in earnest. This was the first time she'd recounted the awful events in such detail. Even her therapist hadn't wrangled the whole story out of her. Difficult didn't begin to describe it.
Tilly's tears flowed freely. She wrapped her daughter in her arms as Alexis tried to calm herself.
"The worst part is, I went straight back to work like nothing happened," Alexis said through sobs. "I was too busy bringing in clients to be with my husband and then I carried on working until I'd lost everything." She spit the word 'working' like it burned her tongue.
"None of it was your fault, Alexis." Tilly stroked her daughter's hair.
"I should've been with him. He was coming back for me because I wasn't where I belonged, with him. After he died, I thought I'd be strong enough to hold myself together for the baby." She stifled another sob. "But I wasn't."