Broken Love Story
By Natasha Madison
Release Day- July
10th
Samantha
I had the
perfect life; a husband who loved me, and two kids who were my world.
Until
someone else answered his phone and my perfect life shattered.
When he
died, I was left with answers he couldn't give me and a box full of lies.
He left me
broken.
Blake
I fell in
love when I was fifteen, knowing she was the one.
For five
years, she was my everything—my every breath, every heartbeat, every thought.
She made me
promise to move on, promise to find love again, but I broke those promises
because I can't move on.
Two broken
souls brought together by tragedy and heartbreak.
Can a
broken love story be fixed?
Pre-Order releasing July 10th
Excerpt
Samantha
Standing in front of the full-length
mirror in my room, I smooth down my black skirt. My blond hair is tied up in a
ponytail, my cheeks are sunken in more than normal, and the blackness around my
eyes indicates I haven’t slept well since this whole thing happened. Since I
found out that not only did my husband die, but that he also married someone
else.
I sit on the made bed and look down
at my wedding band. My thumb of my right hand touches it, and the lone tear
that falls out of my eye lands straight on it. “Mommy.” I look back at Lizzie,
who is standing in the doorway wearing a black one-piece dress similar to mine
with ballerina flats.
My mother-in-law went shopping
yesterday and bought us all new outfits for today. “We need to put our best
foot forward,” she said as I watched her walk in with the six bags. “We can’t
let people talk.”
I turned around and walked out of the
room, going upstairs. Shutting myself in my bathroom with my back against the
door, I cried quietly, trying to hide my sobs. “We can’t let people talk,” I
whispered to myself. The hatred I had begun feeling when I remembered my husband.
Lizzie walks to the side of my bed
and sits next to me. “I hate this dress,” she says when I put my hand around
her shoulder and bring her to me, kissing her head.
“I know, baby,” I whisper, “but after
today, it’s going to be all over.”
“That’s what Grandpa A said.” She
mentions the name she calls my father-in-law. Grandpa A because you can’t get
better than an A.
“Is everyone ready?” I hear Ethan
yell from downstairs. “The limo is picking us up in twenty.”
“Let’s go, baby,” I tell her, getting
up and holding her hand while we walk downstairs. My in-laws are both sitting
in the kitchen. My mother-in-law in a black skirt and top while my
father-in-law has on a black suit. “Where is Daisy?” I ask them.
“Elliot is upstairs changing her. She
spilled milk on her dress,” Judy tells me, looking at Lizzie. “You look like
such a big girl.” She blinks her tears away.
Elliot comes down the stairs with
Daisy on his hip, smiling at me when he walks in. “Okay, you girls go sit in
the living room while us grown-ups talk,” my father-in-law says, and the girls
both know to leave the room. When he knows they are both out of earshot, he
starts. “Today is going to be tough, tough for us all, but we have to stand
together. We have to be the family that we are.” I lean against the counter
while he talks. “The situation with the other one has been taken care of, and
she has been served papers.” I look at him and then at Elliot and Ethan, both
of them looking down when our eyes meet. It’s almost as if they feel guilty for
meeting this woman. My father-in-law continues, “After all this is done today,
we are meeting with the lawyers in person, so we can go over the will, start
the paperwork for the insurance, and make sure she doesn’t touch a thing that
belongs to him.” I stop listening at this point, turning to look out the window
at the backyard.
The swing set that he built in
one day to make sure the kids could use it when he left the next day. The
patio set he had delivered to us, so I could have somewhere to sit while I
watched the girls while he was living with another woman. I shake my head,
walking out of the room. I sit on the couch, and the girls come to sit next to
me, one on each side. “Today is going to be really hard,” I whisper to them,
“but we have to be strong for Daddy.” They both look at me, their eyes exactly
like their father’s. “But, if at any time, you need to leave or you need me… I
don’t care who is talking to me or who is around; you come and get me.”
“Grandpa A said we had to sit and
wait,” Daisy whispers just as Elliot comes into the room and kneels in front of
us.
“What is this meeting about?” he
asks, smiling at us. The circles around his eyes are just as black as ours. He
hasn’t left our house since this happened.
“Mommy said if we need her that we
can go to her,” Daisy says, looking at him and then me, “even if Grandpa A said
no.”
He leans in, whispering, “You can
come to me too, and I’ll make sure that you get Mommy.”
“Okay,” Lizzie and Daisy both whisper
at the same time, and then the doorbell rings.
We get up, put our jackets on, and
one by one file into the black limo that has come to take us to the funeral
home. We arrive before everyone else. “We get an hour with him, and then they
will open the door,” Adrian says as Judy grabs her tissue and dabs her
eyes.
I look around the funeral home. I’m
not sure what I’m looking for, not sure where he is. I haven’t seen him since
he kissed me goodbye four days earlier. His last words to me were, “Call you
when I can.” That phone call never came.
I follow my in-laws to the big brown
door that is closed. “I want to go in before the girls.” Everyone turns to look
at me.
“We can keep them in the lobby,” says
the lady who greeted us at the door. She told me her name, but I just didn’t
listen.
I nod at her as she turns to ask the
girls if they want hot chocolate. Daisy’s eyes get big as Lizzie turns to look
at me. I nod my head, giving her permission, so she can go with the woman.
The doors open, and I don’t even know
what to expect. I’ve never been to a funeral. Never known anyone well enough to
pay my last respects. Judy and Adrian walk in first, followed by Ethan, and
Elliot waits with me. I step foot into the room, and it’s so cold that I
shiver. The smell of flowers hits me right away, making me turn my head. The
number of flowers and wreaths shocks me; the whole room is almost full. Some
wreaths blocking others. Rows and rows of brown chairs line the room, all
facing toward the front of the room. My eyes land on the brown wooden casket at
the front of the room. The open half showing you the white satin inside. I walk
down the aisle toward him, and then my eyes land on him. Eric. I can’t take
another step forward because my knees give out, and I fall. Elliot isn’t fast
enough to hold me up, and my knee lands with a thud. But the pain doesn’t
matter because nothing could take the place of the pain in my heart. The sound
of wailing fills the room as I look up at my dead husband.
I feel arms around me; I feel myself
lifted; I feel myself almost floating. He isn’t the Eric who kissed me goodbye;
he isn’t the Eric who I made promises to; he isn’t the Eric who made all my
dreams come true. This isn’t him.
The man with makeup caked on his face
isn’t my Eric. My sobs overtake my body as I look at him, expecting him
to open his eyes. Expecting something, anything but this. “I want the casket
closed,” I say, my voice soft. “I want it closed.”
“Samantha,” my father-in-law starts,
“it’s—”
I shake my head. “I don’t want the
kids to see him like that,” I say softly. I know that for me they wouldn’t even
consider it, but for the girls, they would move heaven and earth. “They need to
remember him alive and smiling, not like that,” I say, pointing at the casket.
“Dad,” Ethan says after me, “I
agree.”
“Me too,” Elliot says from beside me.
“Close it.”
He just nods at us, then walks to the
man standing in the corner. The man looks at him as they have a hushed
conversation and then just nods his head. “Do you need some water?” Ethan says
to me, and I nod. I don’t bother listening to what else he says; instead, I get
up and go to the casket. Standing before the brown box, I look at him, really
look at him. You see some bruising under the makeup, and his nose is a little
swollen. His hands are folded over his stomach, resting on his black suit. The
suit he wore when we got married. Why? I ask him in my own head. Why did you do
it? I ask him, hoping I can hear him whisper something to me, whisper anything
back. To answer my questions, to give me something; anything to make me
understand why he did what he did. Why he left me with so many fucking
questions and not one answer.
The man comes over to close the
casket. Eric’s face disappears slowly, the shadow filling his face till the
casket finally shuts. “I’m sorry for your loss,” the man says, nodding at me.
“If at any time you want it open, we can open it back up.” I turn around now,
looking at the chairs that will fill up as soon as the people start coming in.
Ethan consoles my mother-in-law, and Elliot stands where we were just sitting,
his hands in his pockets.
“I’m getting the girls,” I tell them
and then walk out with my head held high but my shoulders slumped. Defeated is
a word that you use so many times not really understanding what can actually
defeat you. I know now, my husband dying, him cheating on me, my kids without a
father, my dreams of growing old with him gone. Beaten straight down to my
core, straight down to my bones.
I walk over to them as they look up.
“Let’s go, girls,” I tell them as they both get up and walk to me. Lizzie takes
one hand, Daisy takes the other, and we walk back into the room that holds a
piece of our hearts. The room where their father lies, with no answers and
no tomorrow.
We stand in that room for four hours
while people come up to me and give me their condolences. I nod my head and
play the part of the grieving wife. I am the grieving wife, but I’m also the
wife whose husband didn’t love her enough to just be with her. The wife who
knew her husband was slipping away but couldn’t catch it in time. The wife he
said he would love and protect. The wife who stands here between his girls
wishing that for one second he suffered horribly. The wife who has to pick up
the fucking pieces and lie to her girls about what a great guy he was. The wife
who, at the end of the day, just wasn’t good enough.
We listen as people tell us how
amazing he was, how much he loved his family, and how much he loved his girls.
The whole time, I’m yelling on the inside, ready to stand in the middle of the
room, throw my head back, and yell at the top of my lungs. But I don’t do what
I want. I don’t tell them what a fraud my husband was. I don’t tell them that
it was almost all lies. I don’t tell them that the day he died, they called his
other wife and not me. I don’t tell them that I wasn’t the one with him when he
died.
I stand here thinking about this
other person—his other wife—and wonder how she would handle this. How she would
be with my in-laws. Would she just let them control her and do everything for
her? Would she want it to be open and weep for him beside the casket instead of
standing next to it?
I look around the room at all the
people who came to pay their respects, and my eyes find someone I’ve never met
before. Someone I’ve never seen before, and our eyes connect. His green eyes
stare into mine as I watch him nod to me and turn to walk out. As he walks out
of the crowded room, I strain my neck to watch his back. I don’t have long to
think because Elliot comes up and whispers, “It’s time.”
About the Author
When her nose isn't buried in a book, or her fingers flying across a keyboard writing, she's in the kitchen creating gourmet meals. You can find her, in four inch heels no less, in the car chauffeuring kids, or possibly with her husband scheduling his business trips. It's a good thing her characters do what she says, because even her Labrador doesn't listen to her...
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