Chapter 34
Paul
Edmundo: Hey, babe. I’ll be home soon. Work was a bitch
today.
Me: Sorry! See you soon. Love you.
Edmundo: Love you!
I sit on the edge of my bed, reading the last text I received from my husband. Who knows how many times I’ve read his last words? Twenty? Fifty? Over a hundred?
I’m dead inside.
There aren’t any tears left to shed.
I’m still in my suit after the funeral. My tie is loosened, but I haven’t bothered to remove it. I barely remember the service, and I didn’t bother going to the reception my friends held for Edmundo.
Our fourteenth anniversary is in two weeks; that happy moment forever ruined by circumstance.
A flicker, a slight tremble from the corner of my mouth, starts. I can’t cry again. I don’t want to. It hurts too fucking much.
With a deep breath, I turn off my phone and tune out the world.
From somewhere in the house, my son is crying.
I can hear him through the walls, even as big as this house is.
That’s how much pain he’s in, which turns my insides out.
I should go to him. My kids need me. How can I be there for them when I’m a shell of a man? Half of me is dead—my better half.
Edmundo wasn’t only my husband or the father of our children, but my best friend. My life will never be the same again. Happy memories are obliterated from that one moment that ended in tragedy.
I set my phone down, stand, and leave my room. I knock on Cameron’s door, but he doesn’t respond, so I open his door and step inside. My son is curled on his bed, sniffling.
My husband not only left me behind, but also his eight-year-old son and his six-year-old daughter.
They’re old enough to know grief, to feel it.
Sophia will be the first to recover and eventually the first to lose memories of Edmundo.
Then Cameron will be next. Maybe he’ll have flickers of memories, but he’ll move on with his life, going to school, making friends, growing up…
I’ll be left behind in my pain and loss.
A part of me will always be missing and feel incomplete.
I sit on the edge of Cameron’s bed and pull him against me. He holds me and cries, his little body shaking from his pain—my eyes water and spill. I not only have to deal with my grief but also that of my children.
Eventually, he settles down to sleep, so I ease him back into his bed, careful not to wake him. I stand and cover him before leaving his room and checking on my daughter.
She’s sleeping, so I gently run my hand through her dark brown hair and head back to my room.
I sit on the edge of my bed again and reach for the framed photo of us from fourteen years back on our wedding day.
We’re wearing all white and at the beach in the Bahamas.
Edmundo is so handsome and young, with his wavy black hair and tanned skin.
We’d gotten a lot of sun the day before.
He was always horrible about wearing sunscreen.
‘I was born for the sun, baby,’ he’d say.
What I loved best about him was his eyes. They’re chocolate brown like mine, but his were sprinkled with flecks of gold and red. His eyes were large, curious, and full of mischief. God, he could make me laugh.
A knock on my door startles me. I forgot about the nanny, who’s watching over my kids through all this. Reuben and Travis hired him for me, so I have time to spend alone and grieve. I don’t have to think about cooking or cleaning. He’ll do it all for me.
I should feel gratitude toward my friends, but all I want to do is shut everyone out.
“Come in,” I say.
The nanny opens the door and walks in carrying a small tray with my favorite tea and some biscuits.
Quinn Ohlsson is young, blond, and pretty in a surfer kind of way. My kids took an instant liking to him. He was one of Seth’s daycare instructors, but took on this job because he’d been wanting to work for a family like mine. Plus, it pays more, I suppose.
He sets the tray on the small table, sitting between two chairs next to the window that opens out to woods surrounding a field of lush grass and a man-made lake.
“Try to eat, Mr. Ahmaz. It’s your favorite tea, just the way you like it. I made the biscuits myself.”
I’d prefer that he call me by my first name, but I can’t talk. My throat is too constricted.
When I say nothing, he leaves my room and closes the door behind him.
I’m so lost.
I’m in so much pain.
How do I go on without him?
I can’t.