The Best of Forevers

by Hargrove, A. M.

  After a quick bathroom break, I headed to my office. A woman close to my age sat there. Her eyes were red and swollen making it obvious she’d been crying.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Hi, I’m Allie Gordon.”

  “Grey West.”

  “Yes, we’ve met. Our spouses work together.”

  As soon as those words left her mouth, she sobbed. Shit, what the hell was going on?

  “Mrs. Gordon, are you okay? Can I get you some water?”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t know what else to do, but I knew you ought to know the truth. Here.” She handed me a large, thick manila envelope. I stared at it, unclear as to what it was. “You should probably open it. It will make more sense when you do.”

  I tore it open to solve the mystery. The first thing I saw was a letter. It was from Allie to me. So I read it.

  Dear Dr. West:

  For months I suspected my husband was having an affair. After many unanswered questions, I decided to hire a private investigator. He uncovered much more than I ever imagined. Since our spouses work together and after learning what I did, I thought it was only fair you should know too. I hired him a year ago. He uncovered things from over two years ago. Evidently, this has been going on for quite some time.

  I am deeply sorry.

  Allie Gordon

  Inside were pictures, lots of them, and a thumb drive. I was not prepared in the least for what I was about to see. The pictures were damning. Susannah and Allie’s husband were embracing, kissing, doing things that punched me straight in the sternum, stomping the air out of me. My hands shook as I held the stack of them. They would’ve brought me to my knees if I hadn’t been sitting.

  I cleared my throat, forcing the bile back down into my gut. “You said over two years?” I hardly recognized my voice.

  “Yes.”

  My tone was dead, lifeless as I asked, “Does your husband travel?”

  “He left this morning for the week. I assume your wife did too.” She dabbed her eyes with a tissue.

  I nodded, numb with pain. A blade of fire ripped through my heart, but it didn’t stop there. It was gutting me wide open, leaving me to bleed all over the damn place.

  And then I stopped. “We have a four-month-old.” The words rasped through my lips like desert air. I dropped my head in mortification. Oh shit. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. Aaron could be his son.

  “I know.” I raised my head and gazed into watery eyes filled with pity.

  Two hands fisted my hair. I stifled the urge to scream in fury … and frustration.

  Mrs. Gordon asked if I was okay.

  “Fuck no, I’m not okay,” I moaned.

  Her mouth briefly hung open before it slammed shut. Then she asked, “Is there anything I can do? I know exactly how you feel.”

  She was trying to help, to be kind, but I was lost in another dimension. I only shook my head in response. My emotions were an amalgamation of disgust, hurt, mortification, and fury. How could Susannah possibly have done this to our family … our children? Hadn’t she stopped to consider the ramifications it would have on them? I already knew the answer to that.

  Gathering all the evidence on my desk, I tore off my lab coat and without another word to Mrs. Gordon, I stormed out and headed for home. I needed to speak to my attorney and fast. Plans had to be made. Drastic ones. My cheating wife was going to learn what it felt like to be financially ruined. By the time she returned home on Friday, the locks would be changed on the house, and our bank accounts would be emptied. She fucked over the wrong guy.

  Only that’s not what happened. Little did I know those plans wouldn’t be necessary.

  Later that night I received a phone call that changed everything. Susannah and her co-worker, her lover, never made it to their final destination. Karma is a cruel bitch. Their plane crashed somewhere over the Pacific on its final approach into Seattle. There were no survivors. I never got the chance to vent my anger … to tell her the affair she’d been having for over two years had been exposed. I never had the opportunity to question why she had done such a terrible thing to our family and marriage. And I never had the chance see her expression when I asked her whether or not Aaron was my son.

  Chapter Two

  Greydon

  Resentment … outrage and utter misery filled every pore as I listened in stony silence to the minister eulogize my wife. He sang her praises about how she was a star in the community, always willing to lend a hand to those in need. The bitter part of me thought how she lent not one, but both of them, along with her mouth and the rest of her body, to her co-worker. Those thoughts swirled around exactly what those hands did and I ground my teeth even more. Would I ever get past this when the object of my anger was no longer walking the earth? But then the good times we had, the family we created came to mind, and grief nearly slammed me to my knees. I was gut punched from the inside out, repeatedly. When would the pain cease? Mom squeezed one arm as my daughter clung to the opposite hand. I hired a babysitter to watch over Aaron. The day was overwhelming enough, but with him here, I probably would've lost it.

  The church was packed with my colleagues as well as Susannah’s. My mother-in-law sobbed non-stop, and at times I wanted to shake her, to tell her the truth about her daughter, but I wasn’t that big of a dick. She'd been through enough already, losing her husband to cancer a few years ago. And now this. Thank God she’d moved to California to be with her sister and other daughter.

  It was a miracle I made it through the service, all things considered. Kinsley kept asking when her mommy was coming home. Explaining death to a six-year-old was next to impossible.

  “Remember how I told you Mommy went to live with the angels?”

  Her pigtails swung as she bobbed her head.

  “Well, sweetie, I’m afraid that means she won’t be coming back here to live with us.”

  “But who’s gonna rub my tummy when it hurts?” Oh, God, this was brutal. It was monumentally painful to see your daughter look at you with tears in her eyes, wondering why her mommy left. Why did this happen? I would take Susannah back, affair and all, just to allow my little girl to have her mother back.

  Grabbing her hands, I said, “I will, polka dot. I’ll always be here for you. You’re my little marshmallow– soft, sweet, and good enough to eat.” And I kissed her chubby cheek and damned my wife again. My heart punched through my ribs, aching like hell for my sweet little girl as she stared at me through eyes exactly like Susannah’s. They were the first things I noticed about Susannah—hazel rimmed in gold— and I hit on her trying to be cool. I wasn’t and she called me on it. It was during my medical school days, so I threw some ophthalmology bullshit at her, but she was far too astute to buy it.

  “Come on, Slick, you can do better than that,” she said.

  Seriously! “Then how’s this? I've been lusting after you from across the room and it’s taken me all night to work up the nerve just to speak to you.”

  The gold in her eyes sparkled as her mouth curved up. “Much better. I'll take an honest man any day.”

  We were married a year and a half later and I figured it would be the two of us forever. Guess I figured wrong. And how the hell could I have been that wrong? How did I miss the signs? Where had it all gone south? Was I that naive or was I so involved with work that I just buried my head in the sand? But thinking back, I was the one who was more engaged at home, and I worked at not being that workaholic husband. I handled most of the things for the kids. In fact, she was the one who spent more hours working than I did. She had the best of everything—jewelry, clothing, cars, because I was the one who bought it all for her. I went out of my way to make sure flowers waited for her in her hotel room when she traveled, which really pissed me off now. She probably got a huge kick out of that as she fucked her little boyfriend while my flowers sat in the room staring at the two of them. Shit. I rubbed my face, still trying to compute the shambles of our lives. And that honesty line she threw at me back th
en. What utter bullshit.

  The funeral service ended and we filed out of the church. Since Susannah was being cremated, there was no graveside service, thank God. We were receiving guests at my parents’ home afterward. I couldn’t deal with doing it at my place, so Mom handled everything. I wasn’t sure of a single thing I said that day. All I saw were those fucking pictures and videos on the flash drive that replayed through my brain.

  How long had that affair been going on? Susannah worked with him for years but the PI only had evidence going back a couple of years. That doesn’t mean they weren’t together before then. Kinsley was definitely my daughter. Other than the eyes, she was a dead ringer for me—hair, nose, she even had my long fingers. We always said she was going to be tall like her daddy. But Aaron is a different story. What was she thinking? Did he wear a condom every time? Looking at Aaron, it was difficult to tell. He looked a lot like Susannah—soft curly hair and that nose of his. What if he wasn’t mine? What would I do? Fuck.

  “Grey, I think you need to take a month off.” It was John, one of my partners, talking.

  “Uh, I don’t think so.”

  “You need to spend some time with your kids and process this.”

  How would I even begin to do that? “Maybe.”

  “All of us at the practice have talked and we can bring in a locum tenens to take your place for a while. It’s why we took out that insurance policy— in case something like this ever happened.”

  “Yeah but getting back to work might do me good too.”

  He grabbed my shoulder. “Listen, you don’t want to get in there and fuck up a procedure.”

  He made a good point. “Let me think about it and let you know.”

  Later, after everyone left, Mom suggested she come and help me every day. “You’ll need a hand with Aaron and even more so when you go back to work.” Jesus, it plowed into me that I’d be on my own on a permanent basis now.

  Both of my brothers were there. My youngest one, Pearson, said, “She’s right, Grey. Let Mom help. It won’t be easy doing this on your own.”

  The middle one, Hudson, said, “Listen to them, man. Accept the help when it’s offered. Raising kids alone is hard.”

  “You would know, wouldn’t you?” Hudson was a single dad too. His ex walked out on him, leaving him to raise his son alone.

  “Yeah, I would. Take it from me, man. Besides, Mom loves being around the kids,” Hudson said.

  “Let me give it some thought, Mom.”

  “Maybe you should hire an au pair. That’s what I have,” Hudson said.

  Groaning, I asked, “Dammit, would you all just give me a little time to wrap my head around this shit?”

  Pearson came to my rescue. “He’s right everyone. This is all so new to him, he hasn’t had a chance to process. Give him some time.”

  Mom pressed a fist to her lips. I immediately regretted my outburst. “Grey, I’m only trying to help,” she said.

  “I know, Mom, but like Pearson said, I need some time. Please,” I snapped. I felt bad for the way I reacted, but my brain was swimming with so much shit right now. Susannah’s company had contacted me to discuss some things—something about accidental death and dismemberment since she died on a business trip. I would be meeting them tomorrow.

  “I have to meet Susannah’s HR rep to discuss the terms of her accidental death policy.”

  Pearson spoke up again. “If you need a hand, let me know.” He was an attorney so his services might come in handy.

  “I will. Thanks, man.”

  After thanking and hugging everyone, Kinsley and I left for home.

  When we walked in, Aaron was screaming bloody murder. The babysitter was on her cell phone, completely ignoring him while he sat in his swing. It pissed me off something fierce.

  “Are you deaf?” I yelled. Her head jerked toward me. She hadn’t heard me walk in. How the hell could she with Aaron screaming like that? “Were you going to just leave him in there all night?”

  “No. He wouldn’t stop.”

  I picked him up and he was so shaken up it was difficult for him to catch his breath.

  “You should never let a baby scream like this. Something could be wrong with him. At least try to soothe him. He may have a fever or an upset stomach!” I wanted to knock her across the room. Kinsley sensed how upset I was and she started crying.

  She tugged on my leg, whining, “I want Mommy to come home. I don’t want her to stay with the angels.”

  Oh, for fuck’s sake. This was not what I needed.

  Grabbing my wallet out of my pocket, I pulled out some bills and pretty much threw them at the sitter. “I won’t be needing you anymore. You can go.”

  She gathered up the money, asking, “But what about tomorrow?”

  “I can’t trust you with my kids. There won’t be any tomorrow.”

  She gawked at me like I was nuts. Maybe I was. But if she couldn’t pick up Aaron when he was screaming his head off, I could never leave my kids with her again.

  In a curt tone so there was no misunderstanding, I reiterated, “I said you can go. I won’t be needing you anymore.”

  “But, I need this job.”

  “Then you should’ve thought of that before your phone conversation became more important than my son. Please leave.”

  She finally collected her belongings and left.

  Aaron settled down, but Kinsley still whimpered. I had a baby to feed and a small child to comfort. Which one did I start with?

  Patting my daughter’s back, I said, “Kinsley, honey, I need to feed Aaron. You wanna help?”

  She nodded, but her sad eyes told me more than I wanted to know.

  Even though I knew where everything was, I asked, “Do you know where his bibs are?”

  She chipped in and in no time a small smile peeked across her tiny mouth as she helped me. We both took turns feeding the baby and then I made a frozen pizza for dinner. I was used to daddy duties, but this was the first time I’d done it with two kids alone.

  A long, drawn out sigh wheezed out of me.

  “Are you sleepy, Daddy?”

  “I sure am, polka dot.”

  “Me too. Can I go to bed?”

  I tugged one of her pigtails and said, “Sure thing.” Aaron’s eyes were droopy too. After that crying jag, I’m surprised he was still awake. He never cried like that. It made me wonder if she pinched him or something.

  “Polka dot, did you like that babysitter?”

  Her shoulders bunched up around her ears as she said, “I dunno.”

  “Is she fun?”

  “She doesn’t play with us. She talks on the phone a lot.”

  “Okay. Well, she won’t be coming around anymore.”

  We marched up the steps and I went into Aaron’s room first. After I changed him and put him in a clean onesie, I laid him down in his crib. Then we went into Kinsley’s room. Once her PJs were on, we went into her bathroom to brush her teeth.

  “Daddy?” she asked. “Why doesn’t Aaron brush his teeth?”

  For the first time that day I chuckled. “He only has one tooth to brush, polka dot.”

  A bubbling giggle broke out of her. “Oh, yeah.”

  She climbed into bed and said, “Who’s gonna read to me now that Mommy moved in with the angels?”

  I usually told her stories as opposed to reading from a book. “Guess it’s going to be me from now on.”

  Large hazel eyes gazed at me in wonder. Then she asked in amazement, “Daddy, you know how to read?”

  I sure had my work cut out for me.

  Chapter Three

  Marin

  Talk about a shitty month. No better make that a shitty year.

  It had started out with a bang. I was hired as one of the contributing writers for Newsworthy Magazine, one of the best news sources in the country. I couldn’t believe my luck. Mom said it wasn’t luck at all. I’d always been a writer from the time I was a little kid doodling creative notes on paper everywher
e. When I graduated with my coveted degree in journalism, she and Dad could not have been any prouder. Even though Dad would rather have seen me go on to law school, it wasn’t in the stars for me. I had no more interest sitting in a courtroom arguing a divorce case than I had sitting in a dental chair getting a root canal. No thank you. Give me a juicy story to chase. That was what perked me up.

  Everything was perfect until the day my news director sent me off on a mission. He wanted me to poke my nose into a possible story on what was happening in a chain of popular daycare centers. Someone leaked a story of potential abuse and neglect. When I returned empty-handed, he threatened to give the story to someone else.

  “What story? There is no story,” I said, challenging him. That was the day I learned how things worked at this publication.

  “When I say there’s a story, there’s a story.”

  One of the things I prided myself on was my investigational abilities. So, I caved and went back to the drawing board. As I sat in my tiny cubby, scratching my head, trying to figure out where to go on this, another colleague approached.

  “Who pissed in your coffee?”

  “Pete, I’m stumped.”

  “What’s up?”

  Pete wasn’t my favorite reporter. He did some things that I wasn’t particularly fond of, like stretching the truth a bit. But I needed an ear, so I spilled. He laughed.

  “Welcome to reality journalism. Tell me what you’ve got.”

  I shared my notes with him. His eyes were on fire. “You have enough here to write the most damning exposé ever.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He pointed to a quote. “Look. This right here, for instance, where this one caregiver says, ‘At times we watched an extra child, which meant leaving one or two unattended in a play area, for a minute or so.’ Take that out of context saying they were unattended for an undetermined length of time.”

  I insisted, “But that’s lying.”

  He patted my arm. “That’s journalism, sweetheart.”