Life in Death

by M. Ullrich

  “I know this sounds impossible, but just try to relax when it comes to work.” Annmarie placed her hand on Marty’s. “This always came naturally to you.” Marty nodded. “How is Abigail? Happy to be home, I bet.”

  “She is very happy to be home. We all are.” Marty finished her sentence quietly, with a less confident voice.

  “How are you and Suzanne holding up? She’s hard to get a hold of these days.”

  Marty didn’t know how to answer the question. “We’re doing our best,” she said. “Suzanne’s just busy.”

  “Send her my love, and remember, if either of you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

  “Of course.” Marty offered a meek smile. “Thank you.”

  Annmarie stood. “Are you almost done for the day?”

  “I’m showing the house on Princeton at seven.”

  “That’s a little late.”

  “It’s for a friend.” Marty shoved some papers into her leather purse and stood. Just as she was about to say good-bye, her desk phone rang. “Hello?” she answered.

  “Marty.” Suzanne sounded exhausted. “While you’re at the store, can you also get some antacids? Abigail’s stomach is still a little off.”

  “Sure.” Marty held the receiver against her ear with her shoulder while she scrawled the added item to the list.

  “Don’t forget it,” Suzanne added.

  “I won’t. I wrote it down.”

  “You always write things down and then forget them.”

  “Suzie, if I say I won’t forget it, then I won’t forget it.”

  “Don’t talk to me like that when you’re at work.” Suzanne’s voice started to rise. “People can hear you.”

  “There’s nobody around!” Annmarie eyed Marty curiously. Marty shook her head.

  “That’s right, you seem to be the only realtor around that spends more time at the office than with your family.”

  “Please don’t start this now, Suzanne.”

  “When will you be home?”

  “I’m heading out for a showing now, so I don’t know, nine maybe.” Marty’s estimate was met with silence, but she could hear her wife stewing loud and clear. The tense silence came to an end when Suzanne offered a curt good-bye and hung up.

  Marty shot Annmarie an embarrassed look. “Good night, Annmarie.”

  *

  “Are all of your conversations like that?” Carla asked her sister while she helped peel potatoes.

  “Like what?” Suzanne knew exactly what Carla was asking, but she didn’t want to answer her.

  “So tense. Jeez, Suzanne, who are you?” Carla looked over her shoulder to make sure Abigail was immersed in whatever nonsense was playing on the television screen. “You two are acting like complete strangers. Strangers that don’t even like each other!”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

  “That’s bullshit and you know it!” At Suzanne’s motion to keep it down, Carla apologized and continued. “All you do is fight with her.”

  “Oh, I’m the one that’s fighting?” Suzanne crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Yeah, you are. I’ve watched the way Marty acts around you. It’s like the poor woman is walking on eggshells that are on fire!”

  “Oh please!” Suzanne scoffed.

  “I’m not saying she’s a saint, and I know that what the two of you are going through is hard.”

  “Impossible.”

  “It’s horrible and impossible, and I can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like, which is why I don’t understand why you’re fighting the only other person who gets what you’re going through.”

  Suzanne let Carla’s words sink in slowly and deeply. Just as each and every word registered, she looked at her sister with watery eyes and said what had been festering in her heart and mind since the diagnosis. “This is my fault, and every time I look at her or even think about her I feel guilty.” Suzanne bit at her lip to keep it from quivering. “I lost one baby and then I give her a sick one? Carla, how could she still love me? How could she not blame me for this?” Suzanne had to look away from Carla’s sympathetic gaze.

  “Have you told her this?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m scared to.” Suzanne swallowed thickly. “What if it’s true? What if she doesn’t love me anymore? What if she hates me?”

  Carla took her into her open arms and rubbed soothing circles on her back. “You need to tell her. Can you call her?”

  “She’s showing a house, I can’t.”

  “I got an idea.” Carla punctuated her announcement with a cheerful clap. “Find out where the house is and go surprise her.” Suzanne eyed her doubtfully. “Look, I’ve got everything under control here. I’ll feed your kid and we’ll watch all of her favorite movies while you’re gone. Go, explain yourself, make things better.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “Yeah,” Suzanne hugged her sister again before reaching for her keys. “Okay.”

  *

  “I know you’re a north Jersey girl, but you have to admit this is a nice house.”

  “It is, definitely.” Yvonne agreed readily.

  Marty locked up the front door and led the way back down the ornate block walkway toward their cars. “I’m confident in saying it has everything you’re looking for.”

  “Marty?”

  “Yeah?” Marty turned to find Yvonne standing still with a serious expression weighing on her gorgeous features. “Everything okay?”

  “That’s actually what I was about to ask you.” Yvonne’s small smile was wide enough to shine brilliantly.

  “Why?”

  “You haven’t been saying much.” Yvonne laughed lightly. “Yes, you’ve been talking, but not really talking. I try to separate the therapist in me from any of my personal relationships. I don’t like to push people, but I can’t with you. Not anymore.”

  She could talk to Annmarie, but not openly and completely since she was friends with Suzanne as well. Now that someone was willing to listen, Marty knew she needed to voice what had been on her mind.

  “I think my marriage is in trouble and even if—” Marty stopped. She closed her eyes and took a breath. “Even when Abigail survives all of this, I don’t know if we will.” Saying the words made her feel guilty.

  “This is a hard thing for couples to go through together.” Yvonne stepped up to her.

  The winter night was clear and bitter. Every star was alive in the sky and puffs of their breath made small clouds around them. Marty hugged herself.

  “We’re not…” she said, barely above a whisper.

  “Not what?” Yvonne reached out and gripped Marty’s forearm.

  Marty stared at the contact for a moment before speaking. “We’re not in this together.” Frigid silence settled between them. Marty watched as the mist her words created drifted away in the wind.

  “You told me something, now may I tell you something?”

  “Of course.” Marty clenched her jaw, fighting against a shiver.

  “I don’t want this house.”

  Marty laughed, but then she realized Yvonne was serious.

  “I asked you to show me a house because I missed you.”

  “Yvonne, I—” Marty stopped protesting when she felt Yvonne’s full lips against her own. Yvonne gripped the front of her jacket and pulled her closer. Marty kissed back without hesitation.

  Marty didn’t stop to think about what she was doing. She was feeling everything instead. She felt the cold air surrounding her and the way her body was heating up in spite of it. She felt Yvonne caress her cheek and down the side of her neck. She felt Yvonne break their kiss and whisper against her moist mouth.

  “Let’s move this to my car, yeah?”

  Marty nodded and followed Yvonne with a lusty stumble.

  *

  “Four thirty-two, four thirty-two,” Suzanne repeated to herself as she traveled down the length of P
rinceton Road. She finally spotted the number, but not Marty’s car, so she pulled up to the curb on the opposite side of the street from the home.

  The impressive house sat on a corner piece of property and was dark. Not a light on in the place. Suzanne got out of her car and crossed the street. She cursed quietly and resigned herself to the fact that she had just missed her. Marty would probably be home before her now, curious as to where she ran off to and why Carla was sitting alone with Abigail. She kicked at a pebble on the ground and was about to turn back when the flash of brake lights around the corner caught her eye. She noticed two cars parked down the small side road. One she didn’t recognize, but the other was definitely Marty’s.

  She approached the running vehicle, dread bubbling in the depths of her stomach despite the voice in her head telling her not to assume anything. Don’t think the worst, it’s her client. She noticed the steamed-up windows as she got closer, and the rapid movements within them.

  Suzanne stood outside the car and counted to three before pulling on the door handle. Marty sat with her legs spread wide open and another woman’s hand between them.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “I need to ask you something,” Marty said from the bedroom doorway. She was leaning casually against the wooden frame, but her insides were a shaky mess.

  They had finished breakfast and indulged in a long, hot shower together, cleansing and kissing and reaffirming their love for each other. But now the reality of the day had set in, and they had begun to ready themselves for what came next. Marty got dressed for work, and Suzanne pulled on the clothing she had discarded the night before. Once they walked out the door, everything would change.

  “What’s that?” Suzanne paused momentarily as she dressed.

  “Why were you there that night?” Marty had replayed the memory over and over countless times since it had happened, but this was the first time she had ever asked that. Her focus had always been on the pain and embarrassment, on her own stupidity.

  “I was coming to surprise you.” Suzanne buttoned her pants. “I wanted to apologize for being terrible and I wanted to tell you I love you.”

  “I really messed up that surprise, didn’t I?” Marty laughed mirthlessly. She didn’t want the morning’s mood to decline. She’d asked her question and she’d gotten her answer. She’d wallow in how unfair it all is later. “So…”

  “So,” Suzanne echoed as she ran her palms over the wrinkles in her pants.

  “Will I—do you think…” Marty stopped and laughed. “I feel like we just had our first sleepover.”

  “You weren’t this awkward after our first sleepover.”

  “True.” Marty kept her eyes on her clasped hands. “Will I see you tonight?”

  “I’m not sure, probably not.” Suzanne slid into her shoes. “But I’ll call you after I talk to Blake, and then we’ll see what tomorrow brings?”

  “Okay.” Marty’s heart sank. She winced when she heard how little she sounded. But how was she supposed to control herself when she was about to say good-bye to the person that finally made her house feel more like a home than it had in a long time?

  “Hey.” Suzanne wrapped her arms around Marty’s waist and looked up into hopeful green eyes. “I just have to do this one thing, and then we can focus on us, on what to do next, and how to heal.” Marty framed Suzanne’s face with her hands, and Suzanne’s smile widened.

  Marty traced Suzanne’s furrowed brow with her index finger. “Do you think that’s true? Do you think we can heal after everything?”

  “Not completely,” Suzanne said. “But we have a better chance together. I know that.” She laid her head against Marty’s chest.

  Marty inhaled her scent and relished its calming quality. “When will you see Blake?”

  “I already messaged him to come over after his shift ends at six, so soon after that.”

  “When did you message him?”

  “When you were searching for this,” she said, gripping Marty’s backside. “I love you in pencil skirts.”

  “I know.” Marty kissed Suzanne’s full lips. “I wanted to make sure you’d be thinking of me all day.”

  “Mission accomplished. Ready?”

  Marty looked around to make sure she wasn’t forgetting anything. “Ready.”

  They walked downstairs together hand in hand. Marty saw Suzanne to her car and kissed her soundly, pressing her against the door and rubbing her thigh between her legs. When she pulled back, Suzanne was nearly cross-eyed.

  “Wow…”

  “I’m making up for lost time.” Marty winked as she went to her own car. “Call me as soon as you can. I’ll be at the office until about eight, so if I don’t answer right away, keep calling until I do.” Marty flashed Suzanne a charming smile before getting into her car. Despite her bravado, Marty still worried this reconciliation was too good to be true. She shook off the thought and grabbed her phone. Telling someone could help her believe the reality and quell her fears.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Mom, guess what.” Marty smiled. “Abby was right.”

  *

  “Please say something,” Suzanne said for the third time during ten painfully quiet minutes. Blake’s eyes were still fixed on the wall opposite them. He had barely gotten through the door before she launched into her long-winded explanation and apology. She told him about her mistakes and regrets, but she knew she was married to the love of her life. She still loved Marty and would forever.

  “I don’t have anything to say,” he finally mumbled.

  “You have to have something to say. You can’t hear all of that and not have anything to say to me.”

  “I could say a lot of things, Suzie. Dammit!” Blake stood abruptly and started to pace. Suzanne wiped her clammy palms on her jeans. She was preparing for whatever fight was about to happen. “I get a message from my fiancée this morning saying she wants to see me, and I’m the idiot that thinks it’s a good thing!”

  “You’re not an idiot.”

  “Aren’t I? Think about it. All this time I really thought I had you, that I had a chance to be with you.” He looked down at Suzanne as she sat nervously. “I asked you if I had anything to worry about. I gave you chance after chance to tell me you didn’t want to be with me.”

  “I know, but you need to believe me when I say that I didn’t expect this.”

  “I don’t want to believe you.” He looked at Suzanne with his jaw set like cement. “But I do because I know you.” Blake’s shoulders sagged. “You’d be too scared to let yourself continue to willingly love someone who hurt you. You’d be blinded by it, actually. Kind of like how I was blinded by an everlasting schoolboy crush that got me into this position.”

  “I didn’t exactly stop you,” Suzanne said.

  “But I can’t blame you, can I?” He shook his head before wiping his eyes, then looked back to Suzanne and smiled sadly. “I can’t blame you for any of this.”

  “I am to blame.”

  “No, you’re really not. Your child was sick and your wife cheated on you. I’m sorry. You weren’t in the best place, and I took advantage of that.” Suzanne’s mouth fell open. “I didn’t realize it at the time, of course. I’m not a dick!” He chuckled halfheartedly.

  “Blake, I really am so sorry.” Suzanne hoped that, in time, Blake would also believe they were meant to meet again.

  “I know,” he said. “I won’t lie and say something macho, making believe this doesn’t hurt, because it does. But I am thankful for the time I had with you.”

  “That is the least macho thing you could’ve said.” Suzanne wiped away a tear.

  “I know. Any chance it’ll convince you I’ve been the one all along?” He smirked playfully. Suzanne shook her head. “Didn’t think so. It’s always been Marty. I thought maybe I could fill her shoes, be good enough and make you happy. If I’m being completely honest, deep down I knew that would be impossible.”

  Suzanne eyed him curiously. “You barely
know her, and you met her when we were at our worst.”

  “Some things are still obvious. Every day I’m surrounded by parents trying to do their best, like they’re trying to win at a card game with the worst possible hand. But kids? They talk a lot.” Blake shifted toward Suzanne. “Abigail talked about all the things you and Marty had done with her and for her. She was a happy kid.” Blake’s eyes started to glisten. “Happy parents make happy children. It really is as simple as that.” He cleared his throat roughly. “Plus, anyone with eyes could see just how much Marty loves you. God, it used to make me so jealous!” Blake laughed, and Suzanne joined in.

  After the teasing fell away, an awkward shift took place in the silence between them.

  “I guess I should go.” Blake walked to the front door, grabbing the duffel bag he had optimistically packed that day.

  Suzanne followed closely and wrapped her arms around him for one final hug, hoping he’d sense her eternal gratitude in that one small gesture.

  “Thank you for everything,” she said after opening the door.

  “Marty is very lucky. She better not mess things up again.”

  “She won’t,” Suzanne said with certainty. “We were both to blame for our marriage failing, you know. She was just the one who fell apart first.”

  Blake nodded and kissed Suzanne on the cheek. He lingered for a moment, the scratch of his stubble chafing her skin.

  “Good-bye, Suzie.”

  “Bye, Blake.”

  Once Blake had walked away, Suzanne closed the door to her apartment. Her hand remained on the doorknob and she released a steady breath. Her eyes closed. She was ready to reclaim the life that was hers. How could going back to someone feel so much like going forward?

  The End

  Suzanne lost count of the number of times she’d paced the living room. The ten-minute drive back home was a blur of anger and tears. She wondered how she even made it home safely. When she walked through the front door, she saw Abigail sleeping on the sofa. The peaceful look on her face filled Suzanne with an odd sense of calm resignation and determination. Abigail. Her daughter was her sole focus now, as it should be.