ERNIE AND ERNESTINA: Searching

Book Two, Chapter 81: Come With Me

How do I miss you?

Let me count the ways.

I miss the color of your eyes, that mineral blue. I miss your voice. I miss hearing the little ditties you made up and sang. I miss hearing you call my name. I miss your friendship. Sometimes I feel like an orphan. I feel friendless. I feel as if no one will ever truly know me or love me again. I feel incapable of sharing my life with anyone but you.

Coming back from the library the other day, I passed the front window of a neighborhood restaurant. At a round table in the corner sat five people. I caught the eye of one, unfolding a linen napkin. I know her. She lives in my building. She’s just begun radiation treatment after breast-cancer surgery. Two others from my building were at the table with her — I glimpsed Bella’s platinum hair and Vincent’s dark beret.

These people are friends with each other. They gather together to help each other. If I chose, I could be part of their dinner party. I could be at that table. They would welcome me. I’ve spent time with them in the past. But too many people, too many voices, and my head spins.

The other night, I read a New Yorker. I hadn’t read a magazine for months. The fiction, the articles, were like caffeine to me. The buzz kept me awake. No you to talk to about the magazine articles . . . about whatever is buzzing in my brain. You always understood me. Even when I didn’t hit on the right word, you knew what I meant.

“Move forward,” people tell me.

Does moving forward mean I leave you behind?

No. I can never leave you behind. You’ll come with me.