Broken Love Story

by Madison, Natasha

  Then I left quietly in the middle of the night, just as the sun was rising, and made my way toward the place where my brother-in-law would be.

  I walked into the room, looking around. My eyes landed on the woman I assumed was his wife. I took in her blond ponytail and no makeup on her face. Her brown eyes, red and puffy from the tears that she kept wiping away. Two beautiful little girls stood beside her, and I was okay till she looked my way. When her eyes settled on mine, I saw the anguish she was going through, I saw the pain of losing her husband, and I saw the pain of having to be there, but I also saw something else, something I didn’t expect to see. After watching long enough, I saw the anger, and as more and more people approached her, the more her eyes changed from sadness to all-out anger. I looked in her eyes for one second and then left. I couldn’t take it; I couldn’t breathe. The tie around my neck got tighter and tighter. I pushed out through the door, loosening the tie, then unbuttoned the first button. I opened my door and got in, finally breathing normally for the first time since I walked into that room. The video montage of Eric played on the wall with all the memories from when he was born till he died. Nothing, not one thing would make you think he was a lying piece of shit. Not one mention of the other woman he left behind. Nothing about the woman who has to be carried up to her bed every single night, the one who cries in her sleep, and the one who wakes up every single day with one question on her lips—why?

  I sat here in the car, not realizing that the people were now walking out of the funeral home. As the hearse pulled up in front of the home, and the casket was carried out by his brothers, who I believe was his father, and three other men. Samantha and his two girls walked out hand in hand with a woman next to them. The two girls looked ahead—the older one with tears in her eyes, and the younger one, leaning on her mother looking like she needed a nap.

  They placed the body in the hearse, and the family got into the limo, waiting for them. I watched them pull out of the parking lot, the limo following the casket. I waited till I was one of the last cars left in the parking lot before I finally pulled out and made my way home.

  For the next three weeks, I watch my sister fall deeper and deeper into an abyss. I watch her die a little bit more, and I’m powerless to help her. I’m finally off shift from the fire station when my phone rings.

  “Hey there.” I hear Crystal’s voice low and almost in a whisper.

  “Hey, yourself,” I breathe out. “What’s up?”

  “I’m going to see her,” she says as I hear a car door close.

  “Going to see who?” I ask, not sure who she is talking about.

  “The wife,” she says. “I have to go see her.”

  “I don’t think that is such a great idea. Honestly, what good can come of that?” I ask her, thinking about how she can possibly answer this.

  “I have to know what she’s like. I have to know for Hailey,” she says, and I know that I have to take her. I don’t think she will be able to hold back. I pick her up and then follow the address she gives me, pulling up to the quiet little house.

  “You sure about this?” I ask Crystal when I finally turn off the car. She looks around, not saying anything but nodding her head.

  It’s been three weeks since Eric has died, two weeks since his brothers came to the house and ‘claimed’ all his belongings. Two weeks since Hailey was served with papers demanding she cease and desist using Eric’s name.

  I get out of the car, looking at the little gray house with flowers lining the walkway. The brown door with the hanging welcome sign. Crystal looks down at her feet, takes a deep breath, and then starts to walk toward the house with me following right behind. When we get to the door, Crystal reaches out to ring the doorbell, and we hear the sound from the open window upstairs.

  We hear footsteps approaching the door. “Here we go,” Crystal says, and I hold my breath as the door creaks open.

  The door swings open, and there standing in the middle is the woman who has haunted my dreams since the funeral. The woman who in my dream is lost and turns to me for help, but each time I’m about to reach out to her and help her, she vanishes right through my fingertips. The woman with blond hair that is straight and long, coming over her thin shoulder. Her big brown eyes, too big for her face, her cheeks more sunken in than before. Her clothes look like they are five sizes too big for her. “Can I help you?” Her voice comes out soft as she looks from Crystal to me. Her eyes stop on me, but she doesn’t say anything more.

  “I’m Crystal.” Samantha’s eyes go big when she recognizes the name.

  “We are sorry to just barge in on you,” I start saying when she looks at me again. It’s the same look she gave me at the funeral, except now there is more, there’s so much more, and I can’t put my finger on it. “We were wondering ...”

  Samantha moves out of the way. “Please come in,” she says as we walk in. “Don’t take off your shoes,” she says to us as she turns and walks into her house. The entrance is closed in, and when we walk into the home, we both stop in our tracks. Pictures of Eric are all over the walls; pictures of his family fill the whole wall in the living room. Pictures of him and the girls littered the room.

  Samantha turns around and watches us look at all her pictures. “That was taken the day we found out we were expecting our third child. Two weeks later, I miscarried.” She points at the big portrait of the four of them. “Would you like to sit here or in the kitchen?”

  “I can’t sit in this room,” Crystal says, but at that moment as I’m looking at Eric in the picture, I know that if he was still alive, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from destroying him. “It’s just too much.” Samantha nods her head as if she understands.

  “Would you like something to drink?” she asks, going into the kitchen.

  “Water,” Crystal says. Samantha goes to the fridge, opening the door, and we see the drawings on the fridge. “I can’t fucking ...” she mumbles as I place my head down and count to ten. I count to ten and curse him all the way to hell.

  She comes back, handing us each a bottle. “I don’t know what the protocol is for any of this, so I don’t want to be rude in any way.” She crosses her hands over her chest, and there it is, the anger that was in her eyes.

  “We just want to talk,” I finally say. She nods at me and walks to the table.

  “I need to sit down.” She almost collapses in the chair. Crystal sits in front of her, and I take a seat beside her.

  “Are you okay?” I can’t help but ask her. I love my cousin, but if this is going to push Samantha over the edge, we aren’t doing this fucking closure shit.

  “No, actually, I’m not okay. I’m the opposite of okay,” she sighs. “I have to pick the girls up in an hour,” she starts and then puts her hands on the table as she wrings her fingers. My hands itch to reach over and squeeze them, to tell her it’s fine, it’s going to be okay, but I don’t know that.

  “Did you know?” Crystal asks the one question everyone has been dying to ask; the question that could have changed everything.

  Her head shakes from right to left. “Not a fucking clue.” She wipes a tear from her face. “How long were they together?” she asks, and it’s so fucking clear that we aren’t the only ones looking for answers. We aren’t the only ones questioning everything.

  “They were married for the past six months and dated for about eighteen.” Crystal tells her the truth. It’s not about lying; it’s about fucking closure—for her and for us.

  She nods her head. “I just thought we were going through a rough patch.” She doesn’t try to wipe away the tears this time. “I even felt him get distant, and we spoke about it.” She sniffles as we listen to her. “He said it was all in my head.”

  “Do the kids know?” I have to ask. I have to know, but she shakes her head.

  “My in-laws will not permit me to tell them anything except that he died in a car crash.” Her voice comes out in a whisper, and I have so many more questions to ask, bu
t I don’t. I sit here the whole time watching her, looking at her, studying her.

  “Your in-laws are not your boss!” Crystal shouts, and I see something flicker in Samantha’s eyes. A war is raging, but I’m not sure for what. And then she cuts me off at my knees.

  “I’m a foster child. I grew up in the system. They are the only family I have, so they are not the boss of me, but they are my family.” She now sits up. “It is also none of your business how I handle my children.” Bull’s-eye. Don’t fuck with Mamma Bear.

  I feel Crystal beside me about to freak out, so I place my hand on her arm as she says, “You’re right; they aren’t my business. You aren’t my business, but my cousin, his other wife, is my business.” I’m afraid it’s too late because her voice continues to rise. “You had your fucking closure; you got to say goodbye to him. She didn’t.” She glares at her, but Crystal is too far gone. “She had to sit in the middle of their fucking living room and read a fucking cease and desist letter, telling her that everything they had meant nothing. That is my fucking business.”

  “You done?” Samantha asks, and Crystal nods her head. “You think I had closure because I got to see him in a box? He was dead. You think just because I got his body that I got closure? You think it was easy for me to be the obedient wife and mourn by his casket when all I wanted was to tell everyone what a fucking fake he was. If you think I got the better end of the deal, that is where you’re wrong.” She stands up now. “Your cousin gets to have the time to cry and ask questions while I have to hide my pain and all my tears because I have two girls who I have to live for. I have to cry into my pillow at night so they don’t get up and ask me, “Do you miss Daddy, Mommy?” when the whole time I don’t fucking miss him, I fucking loathe him. He made a mockery out of our wedding vows. He made me look like a fucking fool. Do I have his name, yeah, but I would give it back to him. The only thing I can’t hate him for is giving me my girls.” She swallows. “When I look in their eyes, that are just like their father’s, I can’t hate him. So don’t sit there and think you know anything, when you know nothing.”

  “We are very sorry,” I say to her, and she puts her hand up to stop me as she turns and looks at me.

  “Please spare me the fake sorrow. I don’t have the privilege to bash him and his ways because my in-laws hold him on a fucking shrine. I can’t look at them and tell them what a piece of trash their son was because then I will be left by myself. I play the wife role, and I take the well wishes of the people who come up to me, but at night, when all the lights are off and the kids are tucked into their bed, I’m left picking apart every single memory I have”—she raises her voice—“and it’s a lot more than eighteen months.”

  “This was a mistake.” Crystal looks at me, and I couldn’t agree with her more. Coming here was a mistake; me going to the funeral was a bigger mistake.

  “You came here to see who I was, and I get it. I wanted to do the same. I wanted to meet the woman who he felt he loved so much that he lied and married her. But I can’t because at the end of the day those girls need me.” I get up, nodding to her, as Crystal walks out of the house without another fucking word. I walk down the step to the car, buckle my seat belt, and look straight ahead as I drive away from the gray house.

  “Well, that was a good idea,” I finally say when we are far enough away. “Great fucking plan that was.”

  “She is more broken than Hailey is,” Crystal whispers. “Hailey can forget about him, but she will never be able to move on.”

  “You going to tell her about this?” I ask her, and she nods. “When?”

  “When she can handle it. Right now, the only thing she can handle is her bottle of wine. It’s got to fucking end.”

  I agree with her. “Give her another week.” I don’t turn to look at her.

  “Another week.” She throws her hands up. “I don’t give a shit what you say or that you’re older than I am and wiser. Next week, the tough fucking love starts.”

  “Deal”—I look over at her—“and I won’t even give you a hard time about how you treated Samantha.” She rolls her eyes. “She isn’t the enemy.”

  She doesn’t bother to answer me; instead, she looks out the window, lost in her own thoughts, leaving me to get lost in mine.

  Chapter Seven

  Samantha

  I listen for the front door to close, and then close my eyes until I hear the sound of two truck doors shut. Only when I hear the truck drive off do I open my eyes and look down at my trembling hands. I get up and walk to the sink, turning on the water and filling a glass. I drink a couple of sips and then count to ten. My hands never stop shaking. I look out at the swing set in the backyard and see one of the swings moving slowly with the breeze. The images of Eric looking back at me while he built it. The girls running around him the whole time. The glass in my hand falls to the sink, shattering.

  “I hate you.” I look around the kitchen, seeing his picture on the fridge along with the kids’ drawings. I pull it off the fridge and trace his face with my finger. “I fucking hate you,” I whisper to him, hoping that he hears me. Hoping that somewhere, wherever he is, he knows how much I hate him.

  The front door opens, and I hear Judy. “Hello!” she shouts, walking into the kitchen. “Oh, good, you’re here.” I look up at her. “I thought we could have dinner here tonight.” I nod my head, putting the picture back on the fridge. It’s been three weeks, and in that time, my in-laws have never left my side. Neither have Ethan or Elliot.

  “That sounds like a plan.” I smile at her, the smile forced this time as Crystal’s words linger in my mind. “I have to get the girls soon. Do you need me to help you cook?” I know right away the answer to that is no; my mother-in-law is hands down one of the best cooks and people I know.

  “You go sit and rest.” She smiles at me as she sets down the bags. “Relax. I have this covered.” I just nod at her, then walk upstairs to my bedroom. Looking around, I see little touches of Eric. His shirt still hangs on the chair where he left it; the change from his pocket on his bedside table. I walk to the chair and pick up the shirt, smelling it. His scent still lingers a bit. Did he ever wear this shirt with her? Did he ever hug her in this shirt? Did he tell her he loved her while wearing this shirt that the kids and I bought him for his birthday? Did she unbutton it and slip it off his shoulders?

  I take the shirt, wrap it in a ball around my hand, and then throw it in the trash. One down, a million more memories to erase. I turn to walk back downstairs. “Is everyone coming over tonight?” I ask as my mother-in-law looks up from cutting the chicken.

  “Yes, I told them to be here at six,” she says as I nod my head.

  “Good,” I say to her as I run through the conversation that will happen tonight. “I’ll go get the kids,” I tell her, walking out and making my way to the bus stop. Sitting on the sidewalk, I bring my knees to my chest and rest my head on them. He never picked the kids up at the bus stop, even when he was home. I get up when I see the yellow school bus coming down the road, and I smile when I see Daisy hop down the last step. “Hello, lovebug.” I bend to kiss her, then stand, looking for Lizzie, who comes down the step wearing a sad little smile. “Hey there.” I smile.

  “Hey.” She turns, heading to the house.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask her, holding Daisy’s hand.

  “Yeah, Mom,” she says. I know something is wrong, but I just let it go. We all grieve in different ways, and the only one who really doesn’t understand is Daisy, who just this morning wanted to know when Daddy would be home to put her star decals on her ceiling.

  “Grandma is at our house cooking,” I tell them as we walk ever so slowly home. “How about we have a girls’ weekend on Saturday and Sunday?” I ask them, and they both look up at me. “What do you say? Pizza, nail painting, Disney movies, and Chinese food with only us girls?”

  They both smile, and I see my Lizzie’s eyes light up. “So Friday, as soon as the bus drops you off, it’s on.�
� They are all smiles when we walk into the house, and Judy is there to greet us.

  “There are my grandbabies.” She holds out her arms so they can give her a hug. Lizzie gives her a side hug, quickly patting her shoulder, while Daisy puts

  her small arms around her waist.

  “We are having a girls’ night on Friday,” she tells her. “So you and Grandpa can’t come.”

  “But I’m a girl,” my mother-in-law jokes with her, “so I can, but Grandpa can’t.”

  Daisy shakes her head. “Nope, just the three girls,” she says, walking around her to put her lunch bag on the counter.

  “Please start your homework,” I tell her as she grabs her green plastic binder and brings it to me. “Let’s see what you have.” I open it, checking the things that she needs to do while I get her situated. I look over and see that Lizzie has retreated to her room. I make a note to check on her later when it’s just us.

  For the next three hours, they do their homework, I prepare lunches for the next day, and my mother-in-law finally finishes dinner. Lizzie and I set the table, each of us helping the other. “Thank you, baby girl.” I kiss her head while she wraps her hands around my waist.

  Adrian, Ethan, and Elliot all walk in at the same time. Elliot goes right upstairs to take a shower while the other two grab a beer and sit on the couch in the family room to watch the news. When Elliot comes back down fifteen minutes later, he kisses the girls hello, squeezes my shoulder, and then goes to kiss his mother hello.

  We sit down at the table, holding hands all around as we say grace. The conversation is about everyone’s day. I pick at the food on my plate more than I eat. Looking over at Lizzie, I see she is doing the same thing. “Eat,” I tell her, and she just shrugs her shoulder.