CHAPTER 11
I
t was around 10 in the morning when I finally stretched out, rolling to Jay’s side of the bed. With all that had happened in the previous 10 days it was still hard to process that he wasn’t coming back. Sighing, I got up, dressed and headed downstairs where I could hear Lanie and Stella moving about. As I passed by the front door, I saw two suitcases sitting there.
“Someone going somewhere?” I asked as I walked into the kitchen. To my surprise Harry was sitting at the table with a plate of eggs and toast in front of him.
“I have to head back to New York today,” Stella said as she leaned against the counter, holding a cup of coffee.
“Jill, we all need to talk to you,” Lanie said from her place by the stove where she was finishing up making what looked like a breakfast omelet.
“Alright,” I said, cautiously sitting down at the table.
“We are really worried about you,” Stella said and Harry nodded in agreement.
“What do you know?” I snapped at him.
“We told him … everything,” Lanie said, sitting down at the table with her breakfast.
“What!” I couldn’t believe what was going on. I started to stand. “Sit back down,” Stella demanded and I instantly complied.
“We don’t think you should be alone for awhile. The three of us have arranged it so that someone will always be with you. I am going to stay through the end of this week while Stella goes back to New York,” Lanie said.
“My shift changes to day shift next week, so I’m gonna move into the guest room and stay for a couple weeks,” Harry mumbled through a mouthful of eggs.
“Then, at Thanksgiving, we are going to see how things are going,” Stella commented.
“This is really unnecessary,” I said looking at each of them. In reality my mind was reeling. I didn’t need babysitters. I needed time to be left alone.
“We all agree, that at least for now this is what is best for you,” Lanie said and Stella nodded.
With that, my fate was decided. Lanie and Harry finished eating breakfast and Stella jabbered about a big case she was working on and how time consuming the trial was and now she was behind in work and needed to catch up.
“Sorry to disrupt your life,” I commented at one point.
“Jill, I didn’t mean it that way,” she said defensively.
“It wasn’t really a convenient time for Jay to die, was it? I’ll try and remember that for next time,” I said as I stood.
I headed back upstairs. I could hear Stella calling after me and someone telling her to forget it. Upstairs, I searched in the closet for one of Jay’s T-shirts. I pulled it out and buried my nose in it, grateful that it still smelled like him. Shirt in hand, I crawled into bed and dozed off.
My life fell into a simple routine during the next week on what I dubbed “Lanie watch.” During the day, I would sleep and ignore whatever Lanie had to say. At night after Lanie went to bed, I would get up and wander through the house, often sitting in Jay’s office and staring into space. Then, as the sun would start to rise, I would bring myself back to bed. Some mornings I would be pulling the covers back over myself as Lanie’s alarm clock in the other room would start to sound. After several days, Lanie came into my room and sat down on the bed.
“Jill, today’s my last day,” she said tentatively.
“What day is it?” I asked through the covers.
“Sunday.”
“Jay’s been gone two weeks,” I commented and rolled away from Lanie.
“Jill, Harry will be here any minute. He is going to stay in the guest room.” She paused. “Jill you need to think about Jay’s ashes and his final resting place.”
“Sure,” I mumbled through the sheets.
She left the room. At some point later in the day I heard the doorbell ring and voices down the stairs. Changing of the guard. I rolled over and drifted back to sleep.
The next thing I knew, Harry was standing in my room with a towel wrapped around his waist. He was yelling at me.
“What the hell, Jill,” he screamed. I sat up and looked at him in confusion. I glanced at the clock next to my bedside table and I saw that it was almost six in the morning.
“What?” I asked, my voice hoarse.
“There’s no f-ing water. When was the last time you paid a bill around here?” He stopped and stared at me. “When was the last time you did anything around here? I’m going to be late for work now. You better fix this today. If not, I’m packing your skinny ass up and we are moving into my apartment,” he said, storming out of my room. I continued to sit there and stare at the door as he fumbled around the house. Soon I heard the front door slam and I knew I was finally alone.
I crawled out of bed and made my way to the bathroom. I turned the water faucet on. A little bit of water trickled out and the pipes began to make clanging noises. Quickly, I turned off the water and made my way downstairs to the office. Jay had been in charge of paying all our bills. It was an arrangement we had had since the beginning of our marriage. We both had different views on how to pay bills and what would be a reasonable amount of spending money each month. So we decided, very early on, that we would put our monthly earnings in a joint account and Jay would pay the bills. Our other monthly expenditures would be paid for in cash.
Now I stood in the office, unsure of so many things. I wasn’t even sure I knew of all the bills we had. I looked around for Jay’s computer, hoping to log on to the Internet and find the name of our local water company. It was only after I stared at his empty desk that I realized his company had already come by to take the computer. I now vaguely recalled a conversation Stella had tried to have with me at Jay’s funeral. Rummaging through the closet, I found an older laptop that I had used in college. As I set it up on the desk and let it charge up, I looked through the small filing cabinet Jay kept in his office. The words on many of the folder tabs didn’t make any sense to me. They referred to investments and financial matters that Jay was always playing around with. I pulled out the files for the water, electricity, and cable services, insurance, mortgage, and so on. Soon I found myself sitting on the floor with a large stack of files next to me. I felt overwhelmed. I got up and went to the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee.
Halfway to the kitchen I realized if there was no water, there was not going to be any coffee. My stomach rumbled slightly and I wondered if there was any food in the house. For the first time in weeks I was actually hungry. A quick scan of the fridge revealed that very few things were still edible. Locating my cell phone, I called the small bakery down the street to place an order of bagels and cream cheese and coffee. I figured that would be a good start. The woman at the bakery informed me that they were short-staffed that morning and couldn’t deliver. I assured her it wouldn’t be a problem and that I would be there in 10 to 15 minutes. I checked on the laptop and found it was still charging and rebooting. I went upstairs to change into cleaner clothes. I surveyed the bedroom. There were now piles of clothes covering every surface and in the corner still sat the clothes Jay had pulled out to wear several weeks earlier. I couldn’t deal with it. I put on some jeans along with one of Jay’s Wake Forest sweatshirts and looked at myself in the bathroom mirror for the first time in many weeks. I didn’t recognize the woman staring back at me. My long chestnut-colored hair was matted and greasy in a sloppy bun. My skin was paler than normal and my eyes seemed too large. I had lost a considerable amount of weight from my already small frame. Not remembering when I had last brushed my teeth, I rinsed my mouth with mouthwash and applied a little bit of mascara to my lashes. Back in the bedroom, I found my Boston Red Sox cap and did my best to hide my untamed locks. The next 10 minutes I spent trying to locate simple things such as my sneakers, purse and house keys. After finding them scattered around the house, I headed down the street.
When I came back from the bakery, I devoured a bagel and a pastry. I felt exhausted and lay down on the sofa and drifted off to sleep. The sound of my phone awoke me from my slumber.
“Hello,” I said without looking at the ID.
“Any luck with water?” Harry shouted.
“Working on it,” I mumbled.
“Remember what I said: if there is no water, then we are packing up and moving to my apartment.” Harry hung up the phone.
Harry’s apartment was a loft-style apartment above a bar called Libby’s in downtown Greensboro. He had a bed, sofa, TV and small table that sat two. He just wasn’t one for furnishings or decorating. I shuddered at the thought of having to stay there. I got up from the sofa and headed back into the office. The laptop appeared to be fully charged, and I was able to connect to the Internet. At least that was still working. I pulled the file labeled “Water” and found a couple sheets of paper, but nothing gave me any information about our account. I was able to find a number and I called the company. After going through the automated menu several times, I was finally able to get a real person on the phone.
“Greensboro Water Company. This is Andrea. How can I help you?” a youngish woman said.
“Um, yes, my water was turned off this morning. I need to check on my account and possibly pay my bill,” I stammered.
“Sure. I can help you with that. Account number please?” she said.
“I don’t have an account number.”
“Name on the account?”
“Jay Greenfield.” I was guessing.
“For security purposes can you provide me with the address as well as last four of the Social Security number?” she asked. I was able to give her the address, but I didn’t know the last four digits of Jay’s Social Security number off the top of my head.
“Ma’am, I can’t help you without that information,” Andrea replied when I said I didn’t have the last four numbers of the Social Security number.
“Is there anything else that I can provide you with?” I asked.
“No. Sorry. That is the policy. You can just have Mr. Greenfield call us himself and we can help him with this issue.”
“I’m his wife. I live at this address. Why can’t I just pay the bill?” I asked, getting frustrated with this line of questioning.
“It’s the policy that only authorized people are able to make inquiries or make payments on an account,” Andrea said.
“Andrea, Mr. Greenfield died in a tragic accident several weeks ago. I don’t have the account number, and I’m just trying to piece things together. Is there any way you can help me?” I asked as the tension in my voice increased.
“Do you have any proof or documentation of his passing?” Andrea asked quietly.
“What?” I asked, slamming my hand on the desk. “Do you want me to bring you his ashes? They are sitting on my kitchen table, so that wouldn’t be a problem. Maybe you would like to speak with the SOB that hit him with his car or maybe the doctor who operated on him to make sure he is dead,” I said, raising my voice.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. It’s our policy,” Andrea said very quietly.
“Andrea, can I speak with your supervisor?” I asked, rubbing my temple with my free hand.
“Yes. Please hold.” Andrea sounded grateful to hand me off to another individual. After I had listened to elevator music for several minutes, an older man spoke.
“Greensboro Water Company. This is Bruce. How can I help you?” he said.
“Bruce, my name is Jill Greenfield. My water was turned off this morning,” I said.
“That shouldn’t be a problem, ma’am,” he said. He clearly had not received the whole story from Andrea.
“You would think. The account was in my husband’s name, and I don’t know the account number or any of the security passwords,” I said.
“Well, you can just have Mr. Greenfield call us back and add you as a user so you don’t run into this problem again,” he said, seemingly pleased he had found a solution to my problem.
“Why didn’t I think of that?” I said.
“Well, if there is anything else we can help you with?” Bruce asked, clearly in a hurry to get me off the phone.
“Yes, just one more thing,” I said. “What if Mr. Greenfield is dead? How do you suggest I get him to call you back with that information?” I could hear the intake of breath on his end.
“Bruce, you still there?” I asked.
“Yes, ma’am. We will need official paperwork—” he started to say.
“Yes, Andrea and you keep telling me about this official paperwork. My husband is dead, not on vacation or in jail. What kind of paperwork do you need? I just need my water turned back on. I can give you a payment over the phone right now if you will just take it.”
“Do you have a death certificate?” he asked.
Death certificate? I hadn’t really paid attention to anything Stella or Lanie had said over the previous couple weeks and I wasn’t sure if I had one or not. Surely, someone would have mentioned it to me if I did?
“No. I don’t have one of those. Do you know where I can get one?” I asked.
“Ma’am—”
“Bruce, is there anyone else I can speak to? I would rather resolve this over the phone. If I have to come down there, you aren’t going to be happy about having a grieving widow in your lobby and your company refusing to turn her water on over paperwork. How will people react when they hear this story?” I asked with a slight smile. I knew that Jay would have been proud of my closing statement.
“Hold please,” Bruce said very quickly, and I again waited listening to more elevator music.
“Greensboro Water Company. This is Beth,” a third person now answered.
“Beth, this is Jill Greenfield—”
“Mrs. Greenfield, we are very sorry to hear about your husband. What can I do to help?” she asked.
Finally!
Relief set in. I quickly re-explained my situation to her. She confirmed my account and switched the information over, letting me know that when I received the death certificate, they would need a copy on file. With my bank card I then paid her the $24.87 that was due on the account, and she informed me that the water would be turned back on within the hour. I thanked her for her time and we ended the call.
Looking across the floor at the large stack of files of all the other companies I needed to call, I foresaw similar conversations with each of them. I picked the phone back up and called Stella.