Excerpt of Pack Up the Moon by Kristan Higgins

A scene in which Joshua Park, newly widowed, goes to the mall to buy some new clothes, as instructed in a letter from his late wife.

“What are you looking for, Joshua?” 

He had no idea how to answer the question. “Just…everything, I guess.” 

“No problem! What do you like? This is quite…cheerful.” He gestured at Josh’s shirt, garish with red and yellow swirls. Cargo pants. Birkenstock sandals with socks. 

Somewhere, Lauren was laughing. It almost made him smile.

“Whatever you think,” Josh said. “I don’t have the best taste in clothes.”

“Thank God you said that so I didn’t have to pretend.” Radley grinned. “Okay, let’s get started.” He began plucking things off the racks, a few shirts here, a sweater there. “These pants are really on trend,” he said. “You can cuff them to be extra hipster, if you must. I’d French-tuck this shirt, maybe add a grandpa sweater. Here, why don’t you start trying things on, and I’ll grab some more stuff.” 

Josh closed the dressing room door behind him and looked at the mirror. Lauren had coached him in dressing once they’d been dating a little while, but he’d reverted to his old clothes since her death. They predated her, and somehow it was easier to wear things that weren’t attached to her memory. 

He pulled on a pair of cotton pants in a shade of orange—coral, Lauren would’ve said—a blue t-shirt, a blue- and yellow- printed button down.  

With his haircut, and the new outfit, he didn’t look like the hermit genius workaholic with no life, as he used to be, or the stunned-stupid mouthbreathing widower he’d become.

He looked like the guy who’d married Lauren Carlisle. He looked like her husband.

The pain hit him in the stomach, and he bent over. A keening sound came out of his mouth, and he tried to cover it. Tears rained out of his eyes, and his chest was crushed by the grief.

“Joshua? Are you okay?” came the salesperson’s voice. The door handle jiggled. 

How was he supposed to live without her for the rest of his life? Josh’s knees gave out, and he sank to the floor, clamping his arms over his head.

The door opened, and Radley stood there, a key in his hand. “Oh, God, you are so not okay. What can I do? Should I call 911?” 

“My…my…” He could barely choke the words out. “My wife…died.”

“Holy Mary. Oh, man.” Radley sat on the little bench and put his hand on Josh’s shoulder. “How horrible.”

It was so embarrassing, crying here, almost funny if it weren’t so utterly, wretchedly awful. He was full-on sobbing now, his arm across his face, tears soaking into the unpurchased shirt. He didn’t want to look like Lauren’s husband. He wasn’t anymore. He had no right to look like Lauren’s husband. He didn’t deserve to, not when he’d failed her. 

Don’t be a loser.

Her voice was so clear his head jerked up to see if she was there.

Of course, she wasn’t. He choked on another sob. He was a loser. That was the problem.

“Can I try this on?” asked a bearded guy, holding up a shirt.

“Can’t you see he’s having a crisis?” the salesperson snapped. “Some compassion, please? Come back tomorrow, and I’ll give you forty percent off.”

“I’m sorry,” Josh managed. 

“Don’t apologize. Here.” Radley—Ripley?— handed Josh a bandana. “Wipe your face, you poor thing. I’ll lock up.” 

Not cool, breaking down like this. His hands shook, and his ribs hurt from crying. He wiped his eyes, blew his nose, and when Radley came back, he was under control again.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t see that coming.”

“It’s totally fine,” Radley said. “How long has it been?”

“Three months.” 

Radley nodded. “Listen. Do you want to get a drink or something? The mall closes in ten minutes.”

“That’s…that’s really nice of you, but you don’t have to..” 

“I know.” He smiled. “I’m sure you have tons of friends to lean on, but sometimes a stranger is easier.” 

“Your hair is really cool,” Josh said. Why? Why say that? (But it was.)

“It takes forever, but it’s worth it, right?” Radley said, waving his hand over his head. “Come on. Let’s go get a mangotini or a scotch or something.”

It beat going home to a lifeless apartment and grieving dog.

“Okay,” Josh said. “I’ll take everything, by the way.”