chapter Eleven
Coping
Sam
Monique was right last night. I’ve been a fucking mess. Yes, I spend my nights with Misha to smooth things over, but that doesn’t explain why I haven’t been around during the day. Truth is, looking at my children makes me think of my wife.
It hurts so fucking much. I keep waiting to see her walking towards me with that long dark hair and those dark eyes, but it’s never going to happen. I was too late to save her and I will never hold her in my arms again.
Last night was just too much. I didn’t want to deal with the things that surfaced, during my drunken rant to Misha. Like I said, my words were all skirting the truth.
Coming home and overhearing Monique with my little girl caused me to look at the woman more closely. She is taking safe arbor in my home. Taking care of my children never came with that. Yet, daily she cares for all three of my little ones without complaint.
I didn’t hear her complaining last night. I heard her calling me out. Her words hit their mark. It was wrong of me to make it seem like I haven’t been there for my children because of her.
I was just raw, hearing my little girl express how much she misses her mother. Then hearing how Monique handled my baby girl. The gentleness she showed Jessica choked me up.
Then when something tore inside me when she said she didn’t need me. I don’t know why, then again, I do. It comes back to my wife not trusting me. Ellen isn’t here because she didn’t just trust me. She didn’t need me.
The kids woke early and I feed them breakfast, but my head was hammering and I needed to lie back down. Tasha didn’t show up for breakfast. I owe her an apology. I plan to give it to her. I just need my head to stop pounding and I need to stop staring at this box of letters lying beside me.
I can hear Monique in the hallway with my son. Sammy is humming, as she talks to him soothingly. I feel like shit, literally. Here I lay and she’s still doing my job.
“Okay, buddy, you want to hum. Let’s sing. You want to sing our song?” I hear Monique say musically.
“Okay,” I hear my son say softly and then he starts to sing. Monique joins in with him.
My name is Sammy. I’m a smart boy. I can count. You want to hear? One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Ten, ten, I win. My name is Sammy. I’m a smart boy. I can spell my name. S…A…M…M…Y. Y, Y, oh my. I’m a big boy, so I don’t have to cry. I can use my words. I’m Sammy, I’m a smart boy, I’m a big boy.
I close my eyes and tears run down my cheeks. My son continues to sing happily as their voices begin to move from outside my door. I feel like a heartless coward.
My family is suffering and I’m so damn lost. I miss my wife and her words of wisdom. I need her to tell me what to do for our children. They’re hurting and falling apart. I know I have to pull my shit together.
I sit up in the bed, aching head and all. I pull the box of letters in front of me. With shaky hands, I lift the lid. I hold the instructions Ellen left in my hand, I read them over once more.
I eye the letter on top warily. That’s where I’m to start. I’ve put this off long enough. I need to know what Ellen was thinking. I need to know if she has told me what to do for my children.
Reaching into the box I take the letter out. I blow out a breath as I hold it in my hands. My tears fall as I take it out the envelope and unfold it, Ellen’s hand writing coming into view.
My love,
This is not easy. I know you’re angry and hurting. I know that you don’t understand what has happened. I don’t have all the answers myself. I just know my time has come to an end.
I have always loved you, Sam. I know you loved me as well. I thank you for eight years of a loving and beautiful marriage. There was never a moment I doubted your love for me.
I’ve seen this day coming for a very long time. On our third date, to be exact. Over time I come to accept all that has been my fate.
I need you to see that your destiny doesn’t start or stop with me. You have so much you will do in this life. There is so much passion within you. It’s meant to be shared with another. Your other half.
Don’t be stubborn, Sam. Love her. She’s right for you, for our family, your family. Don’t push her away. You will hurt so much less with her.
Whatever has you so angry, let it go and let her in. I can’t see what the source of your anger is, but I know it is not totally centered around losing me. Don’t let it cost you true love.
I have my reasons for hiding her from you for so long. I needed her to want our family, not just you. I needed to see with my own two eyes that my family was in the right hands.
You’re bull headed. You would have tried to find Sammy someone else to spare my feelings. I know you would have, but Sammy needed her, he still needs her. You need her now, Sam.
She will love you in a way I never could. She will give you something I never could. Allow her to. Don’t feel guilty, if anyone should feel guilty, it should be me.
I’ve always known you two belonged together. Her heart beats for yours. She denies a part of herself because it isn’t whole without you. It is time, Sam. Be whole. Love the one who has had your heart.
I free you. I want you happy. Enjoy the surprises life has for you. All bad things come wrapped in goodness, if we look close enough.
This too will pass, my love and you will be stronger for it. Live, Sam. Live and love. You deserve it.
Love always,
Your Ellen
My brows are knit so tightly my head starts to throb anew. A sob rips from my throat. This is what she has left me? This is what my wife had to say?
I swipe my hand across the bed, knocking the box of letters to the floor in my renewed rage. This answers nothing for me. Did I not tell her she was the only one for me? Did I not show her?
I roar in anguish. She should have come to me. This is bullshit. This I cannot accept. My heart aches even more. My wife died thinking I wanted another woman over her.
I have two great regrets in my life. The day I failed to save my wife, and the night I listened to her tell me to help another gorgeous woman. That night in that club has haunted me and my marriage ever since.
I may have put Tasha out of my mind, but it seems Ellen never did. I don’t know what hurts more, knowing that a simple game haunted my marriage for eight years, or the fact that my wife died not knowing how much I loved her. Her letter says she did, but did she really, because if she did, she wouldn’t ask this of me. She would have trusted me.
“Why, Ellen, Why?” I roar in anger and anguish.