by Tina Martin
“There’s no inconvenience,” she says, placing a bottle of water on the table in front of me. “So, let’s talk.”
I look at her, not sure where to begin. So I start with what’s weighing heavily on me right now. “She left me.”
“Shiloh? The women you told me about?”
I’m surprised she remembered her name. “Yes.”
“I wasn’t aware you were together.”
“We were. Now, we’re not. She left. It’s my fault, of course—”
“There’s no need to assign blame. Tell me—is she the reason you scheduled this consult?”
“Yes, and because there are some things I need to confess to you. I haven’t been one-hundred-percent truthful, and it’s about time I start doing that.”
“Okay. I’m all ears.”
I rub my hands together and slide to the edge of the couch, staring down at my shoes. “I was supposed to kill myself.”
I glance up in time to catch her frowning. She cleans up her expression like it’s something she was taught to do in college.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I was supposed to kill myself. That was my plan. I wanted to have a child to leave a part of me on this earth and then I was going to kill myself,” I say out loud. Saying it versus only thinking and writing it sounds so much worse. I’ve never said it out loud. Never talked about this to anyone. This was my dirty secret. It was supposed to die with me. Was supposed to go to the grave with me with no suicide note and no explanation on why a billionaire would take his own life.
“How long have you had these thoughts of suicide, Magnus?”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m crazy—”
“That’s not what I’m trying to do. I want to establish how long you’ve had these feelings. Has it been since you lost your wife and your son?”
“Yes, but not immediately after. It started about two years after they died. I wasn’t happy. I wanted to be with them.”
“Forgive my shock, but you’ve been seeing me for about a year now and not once did I ever pick up on any vibes that you were feeling this way.”
“I’m good at hiding things,” I tell her.
“What made you confess it now?”
“She did. Shiloh. I’ve been seeing her.” I rub my eyes then open the bottle of water. I return the bottle to the table after a quick sip. “She’s been living with me for over a month and, uh—”
“Take your time, Magnus.”
“Everything was going good. Sometimes, I questioned it…thought about Nicoletta a lot whenever I wasn’t with Shiloh. I wanted to find some justification in my heart for wanting Shiloh around so much, but I fought it. I don’t want to feel like I’m shutting a door to the past and starting over. Nicoletta doesn’t get that chance. She doesn’t get to start over.” I feel tears form in my eyes. The man in me keeps them at bay. “My son doesn’t get that chance. Why do I deserve it? That’s what I ask myself every night when I’m staring up at the ceiling because I can’t sleep. Why do I get the chance to be this happy again? To have a woman who loves me as much Nicoletta used to? So I told myself not to commit to Shiloh. It was okay for her to be around but she couldn’t have my heart. She must’ve found my journals because she asked me about suicide a week ago. Who randomly brings up a subject like that? Suicide? So I knew she’d been in my notes and I was angry because she was asking me something she shouldn’t have known anything about. It was none of her business.”
“It wasn’t?”
“No.”
“You just said she loves you.”
“She does.”
“Then how can it not be any of her business that the man she loves is contemplating suicide?”
“I know how it sounds. Okay. I get it. I guess that makes me stupid.”
“It doesn’t make you stupid, Magnus. You sound more confused than anything else.”
I take another drink of water.
“What happened when Shiloh confronted you about suicide?” she asks.
“I lashed out at her. Told her she was only in my life temporarily. Told her she would never be what Nicoletta was to me. After that, she left.”
“And now it’s been a week since you heard from her?”
“Yeah. A week. All that time we spent together and not once did I think about my plan. I didn’t touch those journals. I wasn’t sad and lying around thinking about different ways to off myself. I was happy with her—and that—that scared me for a minute. I don’t deserve to be happy. I lost a big part of myself. I lost two people. My wife, my son. I’m supposed to be miserable, right? Not happy. And I was miserable until I met Shiloh.”
“My first concern is to tackle the suicide issue, Magnus. Are you still having these thoughts?”
“No—”
“Because if you are there’s help—”
“I said no. I’m not having those thoughts.”
“Are you still taking your medication?”
“No. I stopped taking them weeks ago.”
“Around the same time you met Shiloh, I bet.”
“That sounds about right.”
“Then you tell me, Magnus—what do you want? Do you want your life to go on as if you never met Shiloh?”
“No.”
“What do you want?”
“I want permission to be happy again without feeling guilty about it.”
“Only you can give yourself that permission, and there’s nothing to feel guilty about. You weren’t the driver who ran the stop sign that day. You’re just as much of a victim as Nicoletta and MJ were. Don’t allow yourself to remain a victim. You can’t carry around bitterness. It’ll eat away at you. It’ll keep your mind in a dark place that tells you to end it all because there’s nothing else out there for you. But since you met Shiloh, you know that’s not true. When you first told me about Shiloh over a month ago, I knew she was special—you know why? Because you told me and it’s difficult for you to get certain things out, but you told me that. You like her, probably even love her. Are you really willing to sacrifice that for guilt? Quit being a victim and live your life, Magnus. You have so much to offer—so much more life to live and there’s no use wasting it wallowing around in pity and guilt. You do deserve to be happy and if you’re happy with Shiloh, then be happy with Shiloh.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“It’s as easy as those networks you build for your clients. Often, we put obstacles in front of ourselves by our own thinking—trying to convince ourselves of this or that when what we need is clear. She loves you. Plain and simple. All you have to ask yourself is, do you love her and if you do, what do you plan on doing about it?”
I crack a smile because I know she’s right. The truth is, I miss Shiloh. Can’t breathe right without her. Can’t sleep through an entire night. My conscience is tearing me up about the way we parted and how rude I was to her. I know I have to rectify the situation because she’s my second chance – one I didn’t think I deserved until right now.
Chapter Forty-One
Magnus
I want to see Shiloh so bad, I consider postponing my meeting with Mason St. Claire, but I put off our meeting long enough and decide to meet him, anyway. Shiloh prompted me to do this and everything she asks me to do is out of love. I know that now. I need to see this through.
I walk into T. Mac, a restaurant in University City where Mason requested to meet. When I step in, I dial his number see a man at the bar answer his phone then he looks toward the front where I’m standing. Waves me over.
Right away I see features similar to mine. We’re both tall though I’m a couple of inches taller. I walk up to him and say, “Mason?”
“Yes. I’m Mason. You must be Magnus.”
“I am.”
I reach to shake his hand. He goes in for a man-hug. I know I’m related to him. Just don’t know how. Not yet.
We have a seat. He looks at me again and says, “Wow. You look just like him.”
“Like who?”
“Do you know my father?”
“Yes, I know your father, Magnus. Micah was my brother.”
“Your brother?” I ask, shocked to hear that. I’ve never seen this man before and he’s my father’s brother.
“Yes. My brother, which will make me your uncle.”
“Did you know that already when we spoke on the phone?”
“I did, but I needed to see you to confirm what I suspected. You’re Micah’s boy, alright. Looks just like him except for those eyes.”
I’m still processing what he’s telling me. If he’s my uncle, where was he when I was growing up. When I was tossed into foster care? Not saying it’s his fault. I just want answers.
I look at the man again and ask, “My father is your brother?”
“Yes. Granted, we drifted apart when we grew up. Went out separate ways. He was more on the wild side. I was the opposite. I married and settled down. He was with a white woman for a while named Abigail. She’s your mother, correct?”
“Yes. That’s what my birth certificate says.”
He nods, takes a sip of beer then flags the waitress down to ask for another.
“Was he your only sibling?”
“Yes. Just me and Micah.”
“Then you two should’ve been close.”
“You would think so, but no, it wasn’t that way. I went to college, married young. He was more of the partying kind. Skipped college. Married a little later in life.”
“What else can you tell me about him?”
“You don’t remember him?” Mason asks.
“No. Not really. I remember being in foster care.”
“What about your siblings?”
“I have siblings?”
“Yes. I’m sure there were more of you.”
“My foster mother thought so, too, but she didn’t want to get my hopes up. Now, I have to find them.” I take a sip of beer thinking how good it feels to know I’m not alone in this world. I have a family. Blood relatives. People I don’t even know.
“I figured out what happened,” I tell Mason. “My father was on again and off again with my mother. When she died, he didn’t know what to do with us kids, so he gave us up and one foster home couldn’t take us all. So we scattered. That’s why I don’t know any of them.”
Mason nods. Drinks beer. “I ran into Micah years ago. It was the last time I saw him before he died. He’d told me he remarried. Said he was hoping to right his wrongs this time around. I got the feeling he regretted letting you go to foster care. With his new life, he wanted to do better by his family.”
“So he remarried and started over?”
“Yes. I saw him with a woman. Black lady this time. He’d moved to Columbia, South Carolina and we never connected again. I tried to reach him by phone a few times but never would get a call back. Next thing I know, I get a call that he’d passed.”
“What happened to him?”
“They said it was a heart attack.”
“And you’re certain he remarried?”
“Yes. I’m positive. I saw him with the woman and three children. Two boys and a girl. The boys looked like twins. The little girl was younger.”
“Do you remember any of their names?”
“Uh…”
He taps his fists on the counter, trying to remember.
“Don’t worry about it if you can’t.”
“I remember his wife’s name. It was Zayda. That’s right. Zayda. I don’t recall any of the kid’s names. I was so busy raising my own boys, you know. When you’re busy with your own life, time slips away.”
“I understand that.” I sip beer. “How many children do you have?”
“Four boys. You spoke to Ramsey already. Then there’s Royal, Romulus and Regal—your first cousins. They’re all married to good women. I’m proud of them. I can’t wait to get everybody together to meet you.”
“I would like that.”
“As for your siblings, I’ll see if I can find out more information about them.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
He sips more beer, glances over at me and says, “So you’ve made quite the name for yourself around here. I looked you up.”
“Yeah. I’ve done well for myself.”
“You married?”
I look at the ring on my finger. It’s not the ring from my marriage to Shiloh. It’s from my first marriage – the only marriage I claimed until now that is.
“Yes. I’m married.”
“Kids?”
I grimace, confused between now and then – the Nicoletta era versus the Shiloh era. Who will I use to answer my uncle’s question? I think about what my therapist said – I need to give myself permission to be happy. To be free. That starts with telling the truth. So I say, “My first wife died in a car accident. Her and my little boy.”
“My God…I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thank you.”
I remove the ring from my finger and say, “This ring is actually from my first marriage. She was a good woman. How long have you been married?”
“Forty-three years.”
“That’s a long time.”
“It is, but it’s worth every minute, every argument, every smile, every second when it’s the right one.”
“Yeah.”
“You said your first wife died. I gather you’ve remarried.”
“Recently. Yes. My first wife was so good for me that I never thought I’d find anyone better until I did five years later.”
“So, your story doesn’t end.”
A smile comes to my face. “No, it doesn’t. Her name is Shiloh. We’ve been married for almost two months.”
“Newlyweds. Congrats, man,” Mason says. “Ay, let’s get some Patrón shots over here,” he tells the bartender.
I chuckle. We have the same taste in liquor.
The shots disappear as fast as they arrive.
“How’s married life the second time around?”
“Ah…it’s taking some getting used to again.”
“Then why do you still wear the ring from your first marriage if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Because I’m a fool,” I say. “My marriage to Shiloh wasn’t a traditional one.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah. I propositioned her when we first met—won’t get into all the details but the bottom line is, it really doesn’t matter.”
“You’re right about that. My boys all married and it wasn’t what you would call traditional. That’s what makes it pop you know.”
“It keeps it interesting, huh?”
“It does.”
“Yeah, well I said things to Shiloh I can’t believe I said. We haven’t spoken in a week.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
I look at the man, wondering why he’s asking me the question. Probably because he’s been married so long and doesn’t believe in married couples splitting up over disagreements and irreconcilable differences. I’m sure he’s had plenty in the four decades he’s been with the same woman.
“I’m going to talk to her.”
“Yeah, you do that. And let me tell you something else, nephew—it’s time to let that ring go.”
“I know. I should’ve done it a long time ago. I never thought about how it made Shiloh feel. If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be here talking to you right now.”
“She set this up?”
“Pretty much. She found St. Claire Architects online, asked me if I was any relation to your sons and I didn’t know what to tell her. I didn’t want to reach out to anyone until she encouraged me to.”
“Sounds like a good woman.”
“She is.”
“Then you make sure you clean that up so when it comes time to meet the family, you’ll have her with you.”
“Yes, Sir. I will.”
I leave the restaurant with assurances. I know Mason will do what he says and make an eff
ort to keep in touch and introduce me to cousins I don’t know. And he’ll find out all he can about my siblings.
I should’ve done this a long time ago – reached out to someone about my family. But when you’re contemplating suicide, family doesn’t matter. Nothing matters if your own life doesn’t matter. And that’s where I used to be – ready to end it all. I had nothing to lose. The money, that’s nothing. Nicoletta and MJ, they were my everything, and they still have a special place in my heart.
But so does she.
My sweet Shiloh.
Chapter Forty-Two
Shiloh
It’s been a week and Magnus hasn’t contacted me. He hasn’t called. Texted. Made a pop-up visit at my house. Hasn’t stalked me at work. Guess to him I really was temporary.
I’m laying on the sofa, scrutinizing our last interaction. Did I do something wrong? Was it something I could’ve done differently? He was so quiet, so off that day like something happened on his run. He was nice enough to pre-order breakfast for us that morning but when I mentioned the word suicide, he flipped out. If it wasn’t true, I would imagine his reaction would’ve been a lot different than what it was.
Still, I miss him. I miss his small smiles. His voice. I miss the way his beard feels against my face. I miss holding his hand, talking to him. Miss his stares. His lips. His body. I miss making love to him.
I could pick up the phone and call. In fact, I’ve talked myself out of it too many times to count over the course of this week, and several times since I’ve been laying on the couch. The independent woman inside me doesn’t want to cave. I want to prove to myself that I can make it without him. That I’m not the kind of woman who tolerates a man who says hurtful things. A man who doesn’t care about my feelings. I’m not that woman. I love him – loved him when I left him – but I can’t be that woman. From this point forward, he’s—he’s the father of my children.
I went to the doctor earlier this week after taking an at-home, positive pregnancy test. She tells me there are two heartbeats and I’m about two months along which means the very first time Magnus touched me, I got pregnant. It’s weird because I don’t look pregnant yet. I do, however, feel the effects. I’m nauseated in the mornings. Tired a lot. I hope that changes as my babies grow.