Excuse me? “What the hell does that mean?”
“The boys need you. Your parents are leaving tomorrow, and I have to go back to work. You have to pull yourself out of this . . . I don’t even know what to call it. You look like shit. You aren’t eating, all you do is sleep, and this isn’t you.”
My anger boils. “Have you lost a husband? Have you walked in to find your spouse hanging dead in your bathroom? Did you cry out for him to wake up? Huh? Have you?” I taunt her as my rage grows. “No? Oh, that’s right . . . it was me!”
“I know you’re angry. So be angry! Be anything!”
“I am!” I yell as my hands shake. “I’m so fucking angry! How could he do this, Angie? How could he think this was the goddamn answer?”
“I don’t know, babe. I don’t. I’m livid, too. I hate that he did this. My own brother!” She balls her hands into fists. “It makes no fucking sense, but you can’t lie here paralyzed. The boys need you.”
I’m not insensitive to her feelings. This is hard for her, too. I have a brother and even through we’re not close anymore, I would be broken if I lost him. But I’ll never get the images out of my mind. My life will never be the same. When my eyes close, I remember the events of that day in vivid detail.
“Don’t tell me what they need. Don’t tell me what you think I should do! You’re not me. You’re stronger than I am, apparently. I can’t stop questioning this. I can’t make sense of it. Why would he do this to me?”
“All I can come up with is that he felt hopeless.”
“Well, I really appreciate that feeling right now.”
Angie stands and rakes her hands through her hair. “You’re going to get in the shower. You’re going to get dressed in something other than sweatpants, and you’re going to function.”
Who the hell does she think she is? How dare she talk to me like this? I’m in misery right now. Everything hurts. My head, my heart, my soul are aching. “You have no idea how I feel.”
“Then tell me.”
The idea of trying to articulate any of this makes me tired. “Confused. I’m so confused. All I keep asking is why? Why, why, why? I go from denial to anger and back to denial. I keep waiting for him to open the door or send me a text. I can’t stop myself from calling his phone.” I start to cry again. “I call and listen to his voice. I play it over and over because I’ll never hear it again.”
“Shhh.” She enfolds me in her arms. “Did something happen with him or between you guys?”
That’s the million-dollar question. I went through all his belongings, searching for an answer, but there was nothing. His home office held nothing. Everything he owned was in its place.
“I have no idea.” My voice is thick with emotion. “This isn’t the man I knew. My husband, your brother, their father—wouldn’t do this. He would’ve talked to me, or I don’t know.”
She takes my hand in hers. “When are you going to tell the boys the truth?”
I close my eyes and release a long breath. “I can’t tell them everything. I know they’re not babies, but they can never know the details.”
Her eyes widen. “Pres.”
“They don’t ever need to know he chose to leave us. I won’t lie, but I’m going to protect them. I need you to do the same.”
“Pres,” she interjects, but I raise my hand to stop her.
“No.” My voice leaves no room for discussion. “They’re my kids. They’re already apologizing for not saving him, and I’m thanking God they never walked upstairs. So, no. We protect the kids. I never want them to know what he did. The emotions I feel, the anger, disappointment, and confusion—they shouldn’t have to battle it, too. No one else can know either. Not your mother, not my parents, no one.”
She leans back with disapproval written all over her face. “One day they’ll find out, and then what?”
“Then I’ll handle it.”
I probably shouldn’t be making these kinds of choices right now. I’m not in the right state of mind, but this . . . I feel confident about. Those babies are all I have left. My heart is torn apart, not only from losing him, but also from knowing how. Why couldn’t he talk to me? When did he decide this?
“Okay,” she says with disappointment. “I don’t agree, but I won’t say a word.”
We sit in awkward silence. Angie has been my best friend since I left Tennessee. She’s helped me in so many ways, but right now, she can’t. I have to do this on my own.
I grab the phone off my nightstand. “Hello?” My voice is still heavy with sleep despite it being after two in the afternoon.
“Mrs. Benson, this is John Dowd. I was Todd’s insurance agent.”
“Oh, yes.” I sit up, wiping my eyes. “Thank you for calling me back.”
“I wanted to go over some information with you. Is now a good time?”