When there were no more good mornings

The days grew long and the nights even longer for Annie. She stared at the blank screens in her house, never beeping. Truth was , she didn't want them to beep anymore. They had no one to beep for. The only beeping she'd ever wanted to hear was gone and there would be no more. But knowing that did not help her to be okay, because against herself, she wanted to see her screen light up with that one much treasured name. She wanted this with gnawing, frightening desperation and the silence screamed that this would never be. The worst times were the mornings. In the past two years, she had grown accustomed to waking up and checking her cell, only to find one, two, three, five messages. All from him, all with the same purpose, to make sure the first thing she did that day was smile. And she'd grown to love him even more, somehow, because of those very texts, because they were so simple, so small, yet the fact he sent them meant the world. She had saved them all and, for the past ten days, she would scroll through them, 'good morning's, 'good night's, 'how's your day's. The 'please get milk's and the 'did you eat's. And she cried. Because of how much she'd loved him and how much he'd loved her, and because she remembered what they ate after that particular message, or how he'd cheered her up when she was having a bad day. Because she remembered all the dreams she'd had of the two of them.
But one day, as she scrolled through all these messages, with tired eyes and a heavy heart, she realized there would be no more 'good morning' texts. It seemed so obvious, but she hadn't really thought about it until that day and it came as such a shock, because deep down, she hoped this feeling of emptiness would subside, that if she suffered enough, then things would go back to the way they were. But the truth was, they would not, there would be no more texts, no more meals together, no more smiles. And what she felt that day was something worse than grief, lower than sadness. She felt alone, she felt punished because she was alive and he was not. She felt empty. Without good morning texts, she had no reason to live.
In the two years that they were together – funny, it seemed more like two seconds – the worst thing she could imagine was being apart, breaking up, not being together. Now, she realized that she would give anything just to know he was alive, it didn't matter where, or with whom, they wouldn't ever have to speak again, but she desperately needed to know him somewhere, for him not to be gone anymore.
Please. Please. Please.
In those days, she thought a lot about her life, about her childhood, her parents. She would think back to all those hours she spent in the pews, in Sunday school. How every night, she and her mother would pray together, for good things. She remembered the calm she'd felt in those days, how she'd felt strangely at peace, believing that her prayers would make a difference. Roland had been completely opposite. When she'd met him, he'd turned her world around 180 degrees. She stopped praying, because he thought it was stupid, in part. But also, because it seemed like her prayers had been answered. Now she was back at square one, and somehow wishing she'd never prayed at all, because then she wouldn't be feeling like this.
With every day that passed, she sank lower, to the depths of depression. Every day, she felt worse, she grew paler, thinner. Most days, she was sick to her stomach and spent her days lying next to the toilet seat. She didn't mind. She didn't want to do anything, anyway. She never wanted to do anything, these days. She saw no one, except for her mother, who came to visit a few times a week. They didn't speak much. Her mother didn't know what to say after the accident, how to bring her daughter back from the dark place she'd gone, so she just came and sat with her, she cooked her meals that she didn't eat, and tidied up around the house. Watered the plants. Made it seem as if the house was still alive, as if everything was okay.
It was during one of those visits, early one morning, while her daughter was in the bathroom, and she was folding laundry, that she felt something in one of the pockets of her daughter's coat. She reached inside and pulled out a folded piece of paper. It had the word 'Baby' written on it. She unfolded it and looked inside.
There was a knock on the door. Annie's head peered out of the bathroom, her eyes lifeless and not really seeing who had knocked. Her mother put the note in her hands and walked away, busying herself in the other room. Annie looked down at the note that said 'Baby', and unfolded it.
"Baby, honey darling, I love you. Now, I sure hope you're not having a bad day, in fact, I hope you're having the time of your life. I hope you've just come out of a blasting, successful meeting at work and you're delighted. I hope you've just bought yourself a wonderful new dress, in which you look fabulous. Of course. I hope we've just made love and that, with my smell still lingering on your hands, you've stumbled upon this note. But being a practical man, I have to face the facts and realize you might be having a bad time. And I don't know what or who's upset you – I sure hope it ain't me – but regardless of that, please don't be sad. Please. Because, in truth, there's nothing to be sad about. You have to take the good in with the bad, love, you can't have just one. So whatever's upset you, please smile. There are beautiful things out there. And their time will come. It always does. But it's up to you to let it. So be happy, because of all of the wonderful reasons there are for happiness. The warm sunshine on your skin. The taste of chocolate. Making love. Just to name a few. Anyhow, this is just a quick note to brighten your day (I hope). Know that I love you. I'll always love you. See you in a bit, baby."
She breathed in. She breathed out. She let the oxygen hit her lungs, then she crumbled under the weight of emotion. Of guilt, because in a way, she felt like she was letting him down. Of sorrow, because she missed him dearly. And it was the best feeling in the world, because it was the first time in weeks when she'd felt something, when she didn't feel dead inside. Through tears, she read the note over and over again and smiled. A little at first. Then more. Then more. Because he never liked to see her sad. Because he had wanted her to smile. Always. She realized that that's what she'd been waiting for all along. One last good morning text.
To make her smile again.