Broken Love Story

by Natasha Madison

  “I’m not very hungry,” she says, not looking up. Instead, she’s scooting things around on her plate to make it look like she’s eaten, but I know for a fact she’s only taken two bites.

  “Are you sick?” Judy asks, putting a hand to her forehead. “She isn’t warm.”

  “I’m just not hungry, Grandma,” she says, then asks to be excused.

  “I have homework to do,” she says, taking her plate to the sink. I watch her walk upstairs, then look at Elliot who just nods at me.

  “I’m finished too,” Daisy says, slipping out of her chair and carrying her plate to the sink. “Can I go play?” she asks, and I just nod.

  “So,” Adrian starts, “the lawyer called me today and let me know the will is ready to be read. Sammie, we need to go see him on Friday,” he says, and I look up at him.

  “Why didn’t he call me?” I ask, surprised.

  “I didn’t want you bothered with any of this. You have enough to worry about with the kids.” He smiles at me.

  “I know that you guys are trying to help,” I say, putting my fork down and pushing the plate away from me, “but we need to go back to our normal.”

  I look around the table, seeing Ethan look down and then up. “Ethan, you used to come for dinner once a week max.”

  “But, I-” he tries to say, but I put my hand up.

  “It’s fine.” I smile at him. “It’s more than fine.”

  “And you”—I point at Elliot—“you sleep here tonight, but tomorrow, go back to your apartment.”

  “You kicking me out of the house?” Elliot smirks at me.

  “Yes,” I say. “Plus, I think your girlfriend is one step away from leaving you.”

  “Fuck her,” my father-in-law says, and my head snaps back in shock. “Family comes before everything.”

  “Yeah, Dad,” Elliot says as I tilt my head, looking at him as he looks down at his hands.

  “No,” I say a little louder. “Everyone needs to start living their own lives, and we need to start living our new one.”

  “If Eric was here,” my mother-in-law starts to say, but Adrian puts a hand on hers.

  “If he was here, we would have dinner with you guys on Sunday like we did every single week,” I start saying, “but he isn’t here. He’s gone.”

  “Sam,” Ethan starts, “we just want to be here for you and the girls.”

  “And I love you guys for it, but”—I swallow—“what if he didn’t want you guys here?” The tear rolls down my cheek so fast I can’t stop it. “What if I wasn’t the one he wanted you guys to console?”

  Adrian smacks the table, some of the forks clattering on the plates. “You are the one he was married to,” he starts, “and that is all that matters. That other woman is a disgrace to her family by living with a married man.”

  I bite my lower lip. “She didn’t know,” I whisper. “From what they told me, she had no idea.”

  “And who told you this?” he asks, his eyes going small as he glares at me.

  “Well, her cousin did.” I don’t bring up Blake. I don’t bring up that they sat at this exact table this afternoon as we shared stories.

  “Bunch of fucking liars,” he says, pushing away from the table. “They better stay where the fuck they are, and if that bitch thinks she is going to get a cent of his life insurance policy, then she is so mistaken. I stopped her once, and I’ll do it again.”

  “You stopped her?” I ask, confused by what he just said.

  “She tried to claim his life insurance policy a week after he died.”

  “What policy?” I ask, looking around the table. None of the three make eye contact with me. “Tell me. You guys obviously know, so ...”

  Elliot starts first. “Sam, my father took care of it. What difference does it make?”

  I push back from the table, my heart beating a mile a minute. “It makes a huge fucking difference. Tell me.” I cross my arms over my chest.

  Ethan looks at Elliot, who looks at his father, who finally says something. “They had a life insurance policy together, and the money-hungry woman tried to cash it in. Luckily, we had the lawyer prepared for it, and they blocked her. They also froze their joint account. The money should be in your account as soon as we have everything squared away.”

  “Joint account?” I whisper, but Adrian continues.

  “Lucky for that woman, the house was in her name, or else I would have put it into foreclosure, and she could have ended up in the middle of the street.”

  “He loved her,” I tell them, and he looks at me. “Why are we blaming her?”

  “If it wasn’t for her, Eric would have never ...” Judy starts.

  “Oh, please,” I say, rolling my eyes. “He is the only one to blame for this,” I finally say, and it feels good!

  “Don’t say that,” Judy says with a tear rolling down her cheek. “H-he just had a lapse in judgment.”

  I laugh now. “Yes, well, marrying another woman, and living with her while he pretended he was an orphan is definitely a lapse in judgment.”

  “Sam,” Ethan says quietly.

  “Maybe if you were a proper wife, he wouldn’t have gone out looking for more,” Adrian says, and my head snaps back as if he just slapped me in the face. The gasp of shock from everyone around the table stops him from talking.

  My heart starts to pound as my neck gets hot. I look down at my hands and then look up, the tears not stopping as they fall onto the table. “I guess you’re right on that; if I was half the woman, maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t have wanted anyone else,” I say, turning to walk out of the room. I expect one of them to call out to me. I expect Judy to come and hold me and tell me he’s just being a jerk. I expect Elliot to tell his father to shut up and that was uncalled for. I expect that and so much more from a family who cares and loves me just like their own, but what I get is nothing. I get no one rushing after me. I get no one coming to hold me as I cry in the middle of my bed. I get no one knocking on the door. I. Get. Nothing.

  The knock on the door never comes, but what does come is Lizzie. She lies down in front of me on the bed, her eyes taking me in. “It’s okay, Mom,” she tells me as she rubs my face. “We have each other.”

  My hand cups Lizzie’s face as I look at my little girl who grew up overnight. “That is all we need,” I whisper to her. I listen for the voices downstairs. I listen to the door open and close. I listen to the plates being washed and put away. I listen to Elliot telling Daisy that it’s bath time. I listen to all that while I look out the window and Lizzie falls asleep in front of me. She cried so silently beside me I didn’t even notice, but her tears wet the pillowcase.

  I finally get up when I see that the house is now dark. Walking into Daisy’s room, I find her fast asleep. When I turn to walk out, Elliot stands in the doorway of the spare room where he sleeps. “Sam,” he says quietly, but I just walk past him. “Will you—”

  I turn around to face him. “I get it,” I start. “I get that, with this whole thing, the only thing you and your family care about are the girls. And Eric.”

  “It’s not that.” He shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “Do you know that I waited for one of you to come after me? I waited, holding my breath, for one of you to come and tell me that he was wrong. That no matter what I did, it wouldn’t have changed what Eric did because Eric was the one who made the mistake. But I sat there on my bed, crying, and the only one who came to me was Lizzie. The only family I have, who I love, who I count as my own, never even came or fought for me.”

  “Sam.” He takes a step forward, and I step back.

  “It’s fine.” I turn. “In the end, I guess the only family I truly have are my girls.”

  I don’t bother listening to him talk. I close the door, silently, quietly, hoping not to wake Lizzie. I lie down and watch her, silently vowing never to let her down.

  Chapter Eight

  Samantha

  “Come on, girls!” I yell
up the stairs at them. It’s been two days since our dinner with my in-laws. One day since Elliot came over, and twelve hours since he last sent me a text checking on me. It’s also been two days since I’ve spoken to any of them.

  My heart is just broken; not only did I lose a husband, but I feel like I lost my family also. I shake my head, blinking away the tears. Not fucking today. “It’s girls’ weekend, so the faster you get on the bus, the faster the day is over,” I say with a smile.

  Lizzie comes down first, then Daisy. “I want red on my nails,” she says, skipping to get her bag. “Or purple.”

  Lizzie and I both laugh at her. I walk them to the bus and then go back home to my morning routine. The phone rings at noon, and when I pick it up, I see it’s Judy.

  “Hello,” I say softly, my heart pounding. It feels like I just got into a fight with my best friend, and she is calling me afterward. I don’t know how to act.

  “Hey,” she says just as softly. “Adrian just wanted to remind you about the lawyer. You need to be there at two. I can get the kids from the bus if you are running late.”

  “Okay, I’ll text you if I’m running late,” I tell her, and I wait. We both wait. The silence lingers; I’m waiting to hear her say that he was wrong. I’m waiting for her to say anything, but she doesn’t.

  “Okay. Let me know,” she says as she disconnects. I look down at the phone. She didn’t even ask how I was doing or how the kids were doing. Nothing. I sit on the chair in the kitchen looking at my phone, waiting for it to ring again. I’m waiting for her to call me back and say sorry I didn’t ask how you were doing, to ask about the kids, to ask if I’m okay, to ask if I need anything. Anything. Instead, I get nothing.

  I put my phone down and look out the window, lost in my thoughts, lost in my memories. The tears just stream down my face when I think that for the last twelve years, this family has taken me in with open arms and tears while I walked down the altar to Eric.

  Stood by me when I walked across that stage to accept my diploma, cheering the loudest.

  Watched me pregnant with two babies, rubbing my belly as they leaned in and spoke to the girls in the hopes to feel the baby kicking. Judy held my hand when I miscarried and cried, telling me everything happens for a reason. She held me when Eric died, and I tripped over his shoe. Now, now it’s like she doesn’t know me. My chest hurts, the pain ripping through me, the pain almost unbearable as I place my head on the table and sob. This time, no one is here to hold me; this time, no one is here telling me it’s going to be okay. There is no one.

  Peeling myself out of the chair, I walk upstairs and step in the shower, but no amount of cover up can cover the blackness under my eyes or their puffiness. I slide into my black jeans that had fit me tight at one point but now are a little baggy. I pair it with a white V-neck sweater and grab my black jacket off the hanger. I slide into my black heels and throw my hair in a bun on the top of my head.

  Grabbing my purse, I make my way over to the lawyer’s office. Stepping in, I smile at the receptionist and give her my name.

  “Mr. Feldman is ready for you.” She escorts me down the plush beige carpeted hallway to the corner office.

  Knocking, she gestures for me to enter. The man sitting behind the desk rises to his feet and walks around the desk, his salt and pepper hair matching his mustache.

  “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Schneider.” He extends his hand, and I shake it, just nodding at him. “Please have a seat.” He points at the two chairs facing his desk. I look at the family pictures on the bookshelf behind his desk—the one of him and his wife, the one of him with his children, the one with him and who look like his grandchildren. My eyes go back to his as he puts on his glasses. “I’m so sorry about your loss. Eric was a great man.” I’m almost tempted to roll my eyes or pfft out. Please fucking spare me; if he was such a great man, then why the fuck did he feel the need to live a double life? Why?

  I have a box full of questions, but the only one that keeps repeating is why? Why the fuck would you do it? Why would you? And then it was always how could you do this to me? To the girls?

  “So,” he starts, “Eric’s will is pretty standard. Everything is left to you, of course.” He turns the papers, explaining his stocks and everything that I am inheriting. “He did have in here that his father is the one in charge of the money to be issued out on behalf of the girls.”

  I look at him. “I don’t understand?” I ask him.

  “It means that the girls’ money is in a trust, and the executor is Mr. Schneider. So if you would want something for them, it would have to be approved by him.”

  “I’m sorry, that is wrong because we both had the same will.” I think back to when we signed the will. We were both in charge of everything if the other one left. “If you can check mine, you will see that it isn’t like this.”

  “He amended his copy six months ago,” he says, and my heart beats so hard and fast, I’m pretty sure that he can hear it. The sound must be filling the silence of the room as he looks at me. “It’s really just a precaution to make sure the girls’ needs are met, and that the money is allocated.”

  “Unbelievable,” I say under my breath. “Is there anything in there about his other wife?” I ask him with a sneer. “You know, just as a precaution?”

  He must be shocked that I would say anything. “I was brought up to speed with the other wife, and I can say that all requests have been denied. Her account is now frozen, and we will be requesting the funds be transferred to you.”

  “What?” I whisper. “You’re taking her money?”

  “Well”—he closes the folder—“it’s half Eric’s so…”

  “No,” I snap. “I don’t want it. Cancel whatever paper you submitted.”

  “Well, it seems that Mr. Schneider is in charge of that.” I smile as he says that, and I’m pretty sure I look like I’m losing my mind.

  “I don’t give a shit,” I say, getting up. “I don’t want anything that he had with that woman, not one fucking penny. So you can either listen to me, the executor of his will, or I can get another lawyer.” My hands are opening and closing. “I think her finding out that her husband wasn’t her husband and that everything they had was a lie is enough, don’t you think?”

  He just leans back in his chair as he looks at me, and I continue, “I mean, she filed for his insurance papers and those got denied, right?”

  “They got denied because the case was fraudulent since he used his middle name and the information he used to apply wasn’t truthful,” he tells me, crossing his hands on his desk. “Mrs. Schneider, it is my duty to make sure you are taken care of, you and your children.”

  “Stop the paperwork, Mr. Feldman,” I tell him, and he just sighs. “It’s enough, don’t you think?”

  “Fine. I will pull the complaint, but it may be too late.” He takes off his glasses.

  “Well, if it’s too late, I want to know how much you got, and we are going to reimburse her. To the penny.”

  “Very well,” he says. “I will have to let Adrian know about this.”

  I shake my head. “Do what you have to, but what we discussed here isn’t to be discussed with him.” I don’t wait for him to say anything. Instead, I walk out the room, down the hall, to the elevator, and make it to my car before I yell out in frustration. I pitch my purse to the side, grabbing the keys.

  “Fucking asshole,” I say out loud, slapping my hand on the console. “Great fucking plan, Eric. Fuck not only me but the other woman by leaving your father to go after her. Fucking awesome.” I shake my head, turning on the car and pulling out of the parking lot. I stop at Wal-Mart on the way home, grabbing chips, soda, and nail polish—everything I need for the night. I smile at the clerk who wishes me a good day.

  I look at my phone, seeing it’s almost time for the kids to be home. I send Judy a message.

  On my way home. I’ll get the girls.

  She just answers back one word

  Okay.


  That is it; only one fucking word. I stare at the phone, waiting to see the bubble with three dots reappear. I wait and wait and get nothing.

  I put the bags into the trunk when my phone rings. Seeing a weird number, I contemplate whether to answer it.

  “Hello?” I say, holding the phone with my shoulder while I close the trunk and push the cart back.

  “Samantha.” The voice makes me stop walking in the middle of the parking lot. A man honks at me, telling me to move. “Hello?” he says again. His voice smooth, his voice soft, his voice somewhat comforting.

  “Blake?” I ask, but I will never forget his voice. From the first moment he explained who he was to the time he sat in my kitchen with his cousin, his voice will always be familiar.

  “Yeah,” he breathes out. “Listen, I know that the last thing you need is for me to call you, but”—I turn and walk back to the car as I listen to him struggle to find the words—“I just wanted to check and see if you were okay.”

  “What?” I whisper; this man who doesn’t even know me, who knows nothing about me, who has met me a total of one time, not counting the wake, is asking if I’m okay.

  “I’ve been thinking about you since we left you, and I know that Crystal can come off strong and I just,” he starts saying and then stops. “So, I was just making sure you were okay.”

  “I don’t think I will ever be okay,” I say, getting in the car and making my way home. “I’m sorry,” I tell him.

  “For what?” he asks, surprised.

  “I just left the lawyer’s office, and he told me that they froze your sister’s account,” I say as I park the car in front of the kids’ school. “It wasn’t me.”

  “We know,” he says, and I sit here a little stunned. How does he know?

  “How?” I ask him. From this day forward, I’m asking all the questions and getting all the answers.

  “Because I know,” he says, and I smile.

  “You don’t even know me. You know nothing about me,” I tell him, looking at the kids starting to come out of the school.