When we bought that big ol’ house in the mountains – the Appalachians since you said you couldn’t bear to part with the east coast – I knew it’d be the house you’d die in and the one I couldn’t bear parting with. Since you left, hardly three days ago now and your sister’s been bothering me about getting the funeral over and done with, I’ve taken to sitting on the veranda all day and well into the evening. Don’t you worry your fragile heart now, honey; I’ve been sticking to only two beers a day, just like I promised you. Your dog’s been staring me down; that poor old heeler that’s got no cattle to nip at has taken a real liking to my ankles. I haven’t quite got my soul straight enough to stand up and play with him, but I’ve been throwing him a ball and he’s been running it back to me. I remember to feed him. Cup and a half in the morning. Cup of dry and half a cup of wet before the sun goes down at night. I can tell he misses you, but neither of us has taken to talking about it yet. We’re still not at the point where we can admit to liking each other, but since I’ve been feeding him, he’s loosened up. God, that blue eye still gives me the creeps. He looks at me like he knows my deepest secrets and he’s judging me for them. What an asshole. Sorry, honey. I don’t mean to shit talk your dog.
The house has been groaning real bad, like it’s weeping. Been keeping me up at night so I’ve been doing lots of laundry and hanging up your dresses at the front of the closet. Your sister wants you dressed in something black so you’ll look formal but you don’t own anything black. You like them flowy white sundresses with the scalloped edges. I remember that cuz you told me a million times whenever I asked what you wanted for your birthday. Every year you want a new dress you can wear on a picnic. Thank God you left me in the summertime. I don’t think I could handle losing you in the winter. You hate the cold, always said you could feel it deep in your bones like a whole-body shiver. The winter was the worst for you when you were sick, too. Said every day felt like two since you couldn’t get your body to relax enough for sleep. I’d wrap myself around you til you said you were suffocating and that seemed to get your eyes closed and your breathing steady. Now I sleep stick-straight and unmoving.
You and those summer dresses belong up there in those mountains, in the meadow that makes up our yard, dancing in the flowers like you planted them and watched them grow. You treat every living thing like you’re its mother and I’ll always be sorry you couldn’t have a real kid. That thing would’ve toddled after you like it was some kind of parade and I’d sit there watching and cheering y’all on. I’m plenty proud of you on your own, though. Never needed a damn kid to feel whole. Never needed the dog, either. Just you and our house in the mountains and the clear air and the green of it all.
I already know how your funeral’s gonna go. I’ll invite the town and they’re all going to show and your sister will take the lead. She expects me to speak, but I’m not doing that shit. I don’t gotta say anything I haven’t already thought and the town knows that. People are gonna nod and pat me on the back and I’m gonna nod back and not bother smiling. I tell you what. I’m not shedding a tear for any of them. You got all my tears and you’ll get any I got left. I was gonna ask if I could cover you up, but then I remembered you wanna turn to dust so I can throw you into that clear mountain air so you can dance around in the unending wind. You said you wanted me to breathe you in forever but, honey, I don’t need your ashes to do that. Your smell is etched into our house no matter how hard I clean it – which I won’t be doing since I hate cleaning. I’m gonna keep baking that bread you make every other week and I’m gonna brush the dog indoors so his hair gets woven into the rug like you always do even though I tell you time and again it makes the house stink and I’m gonna do all the rest of the shit you do even if it’s something I can’t stand.
I don’t got your mother or your father anymore and I sure as hell don’t want your sister and I don’t know why you’d ever think I wouldn’t have you. I’m not going running after you – you know how much I hate exercise – but you ain’t leaving me neither, sweetheart. This is the oldest I’ve ever been and it’s the oldest I ever will be. I know you’re watching me, honey. Don’t you think for a second that I’m ever taking my eyes off of you.
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Sofia Benz was born and raised in Richmond, Virginia and is about to begin grad school for her PHD in English Literature.
© 2025, Sofia Benz
Halfway Down the Stairs 