An impossible choice

So life went on, and I continued living out of my tiny one bedroom apartment, focusing my energy on work. My job was still in sports; but it paid much better! I could have afforded a bigger apartment, but I really had no reason to leave the current one. I also had no one to impress, so it simply wasn’t on my radar.

I didn’t really date. My friend Jeff set me on a blind date once, and although she seemed like a great girl, I wasn’t into it and the date ended pretty early. I think she sensed my emotional unavailability, and cut things off before they got more awkward.

It had been three years since my divorce was final, and I still missed her. It wasn’t nearly as bad as the first horrid year, but she still stuck in my mind. Sometimes I considered “checking up on her”, but I would always realize it was no longer my business, so I left her alone.

I went on like this for some time, and then one day, I saw her while I was running an errand for my boss downtown. Actually, I should say, I saw *them*. They were headed towards me on the sidewalk about fifty feet away.

Yes, Shannon, by all appearances, had a new man in her life. It shouldn’t have surprised me, but it still did, and it rocked me to my core. It was obvious they were very much in love; by the way she held onto his arm; the way he looked down into her eyes when she smiled up at him; but most of all, it was the noticeable baby bump that she was sporting.

She must have been about 7 months or so along by the looks of things. She carried it so well, and she sure didn’t waddle like I imagined most women did when they were that far along. She looked graceful, elegant, and she glowed.

My heart broke into a million pieces in the seconds after recognizing her. I knew I didn’t have the right to hurt over her anymore, since I had been the one to leave her. But fuck, it still hurt so much seeing that pregnant belly. It simply reminded me of what I had once, and lost. It also hurt that she had clearly moved on so easily, yet it seemed I never would.

I didn’t want her to notice me, because it was already painful enough just to see her like this. Having her look at me with pity would just destroy me completely.

I attempted to move into a doorway before she spotted me, but it just happened that she was looking in that direction when I did it, and her eyes met mine just as I reached the step. I had nowhere to go, and so I just elected to continue walking and hope she didn’t engage me.

She didn’t. Why would she? She had a guy with her. But I got the pitying stare and the guilty eyes. I’m not even sure how to put into words the look she gave me. But, whatever it was, it sealed my fate. “I should’ve moved,” I thought to myself. “This is why I wanted to leave this town.”

I walked past them without an acknowledgement, and then kept walking. And walking. And walking. I forgot about the errand I was on.

I went over my life, again and again, trying to figure out exactly where I went wrong. What had I done to deserve this fate? What cruel act had I inflicted on someone to have karma hunt me down with such a vengeance and wreak destruction on my life?

I walked so long and so far, that when I reached the edge, it caught me by surprise. But the railing was there to stop me anyhow. There I stood, poised at very edge of the highest point of the second biggest bridge that connected the two cities together as one. I was both surprised that I ended up here, and at the same time, feeling like I might’ve finally found the peace I longed for. It was very peaceful, after all, as the sun set on what was a beautiful day.

You’d think I would have at least some last words for the universe before I made my exit, but simply didn’t feel the need. Everything had already been said. This was my lot, and I would welcome it with open arms.

+++++++++

*Shannon*

My tea cup rested perilously on my almost 8 month pregnant belly. It was actually kind of hilarious what my eating and drinking habits had morphed into since the third trimester started. I often found myself in some pretty compromising and sometimes dangerous positions. Such as this one; with a steaming hot cup of tea resting on me, and threatening to spill over should the baby kick again.

I was sitting in my living room, sharing a quiet evening with my boyfriend Tom, when my phone rang.

“Babe, could you be the best boyfriend in the whole world and bring me my phone,” I asked him with mock sweetness and charm.

Tom, the wonderful man that he was, indulged me no matter what I asked these days. He was good to me! Better than improbably deserved, of I’m being honest. His outlook was that since I was carrying his baby, it’s the least he could do.

Tom handed me my phone and took the perilous tea cup away so I could focus. The phone screen showed a number I didn’t recognize, but since I often got calls from unknown numbers in my like of work, I chose to answer.

“Hellooooo,” I said with a lilt in my voice, wondering who may have reached me and wanting to brighten their day.

The line was silent on the other end, and for a moment I thought the call had dropped or something.

“Hello?” I repeated again.

“Ummm, hi Shannon’s this is...this is Angela,” the voice on the other end said quietly.

Angela? Did I know an Angela?

Then it clicked. Angela! John’s mom! Why would she be calling me?

“Oh my god! Angela! How are you? It’s been such a long time!” I said excitedly.

It had been about three years since I had heard from John’s mom. She had called me to arrange to pick up some items from the house that John didn’t take with him; wedding photos and a couple gifts and keepsakes that we had collected over the years. Things he claimed he didn’t want at the time, but Angela figured he may regret not having them later on. It hurt me a lot that he wanted nothing from our life together. I was happy Angela came to get them for him and I hoped he kept at least some of them.

“Yes, it has, hasn’t it?” she said, with a deep sadness in her voice, and I detected some hesitance as well as she spoke.

“Shannon, I’m calling to tell you...” she hesitated again, as if she was unable to find the words. Her silence lasted almost half a minute, and now I was worried.

“What’s wrong Angela?” I asked her, fearing her next words.

“I’m calling to tell you that...that John passed away two nights ago,” she said somberly, as the hammer fell on my heart.

“Oh god, no,” I uttered to whomever was out there. I must have gone the whitest shade of pale, as I sat there gripping the phone and hoping against all hope that this was simply a nightmare.

Tom knew from the look on my face and from my voice that something dreadful had occurred. He observed me with sympathy in his eyes, but knew better than to come near me.

I had seen John just days before, walking downtown. He walked last me with indifference, and although I didn’t expect conversation, it hurt a little that he didn’t at least acknowledge me.

I did feel bad that the first time he saw me since our divorce was when I was nearly eight months pregnant. I think we both assumed back then that I would never fall pregnant again, since chances were so slim to begin with. But yet here I was again, beating the odds. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t cause me great distress in the first trimester. Just coming to terms with the fact that I was pregnant with a child that wasn’t John’s took many gruelling sessions with my therapist.

“Please tell me this isn’t real,” I pleaded to her. He couldn’t have died in the last two days since I saw him, could he? What could possibly have happened?

“It’s real Shannon, and I’m really, really sorry to be the one to tell you,” she said, with a kindness I had once learned to appreciate so much in her. We didn’t see his parents often, as they lived in another country, but when we did, it was always special for me.

I asked her what had happened, and she sort of dodged the questions and have me some obscure reasoning about some accident he had been in. It didn’t matter though, because he was gone. That’s really all that registered with me.

“The main reason I called is because he’s named you in his will, and there will be a reading with our lawyer next week,” she told me through my quiet sobs. Oh god, I’m in his will? Why?

“Also, and theres absolutely no pressure or expectation, but the funeral will be tomorrow at 3 pm. I’ll email you the details and you can decide whether you’d like to be there,” she told me, surprising me yet again with her kindness and consideration.

I wasn’t sure whether I could handle being there. It would be so painful.

“I don’t presume to know what’s going on in your life or where you’re at, but I know John once meant a lot to you, and my opinion is that folks who mean something to eachother should always have the opportunity to see the other one off when they pass into the next world,” she said with emotion choking her voice slightly. “Regardless of what may have occurred.”

Through my tears and sobs I managed to thank her. “Thanks for telling me Angela, and yes, he meant a lot to me.”

He still means a lot to me.

I was inconsolable for the remainder of the day. Tom didn’t ask, and I didn’t tell. I had never spoke of John to Tom. Didn’t need to. Didn’t want to. John was a chapter of my life that I had filed away in a deep dark place. It was only a memory for me.

But things had changed. I was in his will, and God help me, I think I needed to be at that funeral. I don’t know whether it would set me back in therapy, but I think I needed it. I would have to explain things to Tom.

On the plus side, he took it well and told me he was here to talk whenever I needed to.

The funeral was small. Small, as in, there were only twelve people present. I nearly cried when I walked into the small funeral home, and there were only a handful of people. How was this possible? John knew so many people! He was a somebody!

Before I could get too far with my thoughts, Angela approached me and hugged me. She read my thoughts.

“Shhh, it’s alright sweety, we chose to limit the crowd to just the people closest to him,” she reassured me, and it made me feel so loved that she considered me one of those people.

She looked briefly down at my belly, and met my eyes again with a weak smile. Nodding at me, she told me she was happy for me and proud of me. I almost felt too numb to cry, but a tear did slip from my eye as she walked back to her husband.

The service was short. It was closed casket, and I didn’t have the nerve to ask why. It still seemed like it didn’t matter so much, but I was slightly curious what had happened. I determined I would find out from his parents after the service.

Angela had somehow disappeared as folks were leaving, so I approached John’s dad outside in the parking lot. It was a tearful reunion of sorts, and he was just as kind to me as Angela was.

“What happened, Pete?” I asked him, my voice shaking.

He looked at me for long moments, considering his answer. He seemed to come to some conclusion, and continued.

“You’re going to find out eventually, kid, so it might as well be me doing the difficult stuff,” he said, pain filling his voice. “John committed suicide, Shannon,” he said to me, looking down at the pavement as he saw my face begin to crumble.

The next thing I recall was waking up on my back with a cold cloth across my forehead. I looked to my left and saw Angela beside me with my boyfriend Tom, and they were talking in hushed tones.

I had fainted. That’s what they told me. Tom took me home, and we talked. I told him about John. I told him everything. He sat and listened, and through it all, I never cried. I was almost emotionless actually. Numb. Tom seemed to take it all in stride, and with a gentle kindness I didn’t know he had in him, he tucked me into bed and sang me to sleep.

The next few days were much of the same. I was numb to everything. Tom kept me afloat, simply by reminding me to eat, sleep, and also to get to that will reading.

Only four people were at the reading, minus the lawyer. Me, John’s mom and dad, and his sister April. The lawyer got right to it, listing off items John had left to his parents. It was mostly keepsakes and sentimental items. But John did have a large collection of tools which he left to his dad, along with the garage he had opened as a side business. It was actually worth quite a bit of money.

Then came the money. It turns out John had acquired quite a bit of that. I was gobsmacked. John had left his sister a trust fund in the amount of $250,000, as well as a few investments he had kept from our marriage. And then came the time for the lawyer to read what John had left me.

The lawyer read it, but I didn’t believe it. John was apparently leaving me with close to ten million dollars. Where had he even got access to money like that? He had also left me with his business and his website to do with what I pleased. According to the paperwork, this was also a quite a lucrative endeavour. In the letter to me, he said I could sell it for a large sum if I chose to do so.

“When was this will signed?” I asked incredulously. How long had he been decided about this?

“April 19th, 2017,” the lawyer stated flatly.

2017??? That was right after our divorce! Why would he divorce me and then leave everything to me in his will? I was confused and overwhelmed.

“Why would he leave me all that money?” I asked incredulously. I couldn’t fathom it.

“He thinks you’ll put it into non-profits,” Angela said, turning to face me. “You’ve worked for a non profit for as long as I’ve known you, and you do good work in the city,” she continued. “John knew the money would be better with you than anyone else.”

Her words made me cry, yet again, and I realized she was right, of course. That would be exactly what John would want.

I left the reading stunned into silence yet again, and filled with anguish. I feared the anguish would never leave me. Like it would be a part of me forever. Just like John would.

I had moved on in almost every sense. I’d found a man who wanted to marry me and have children with me. I’d left my life with John behind me as much as I could. But there would always be a part of him that stuck with me. And now I had this knowledge. Knowledge that nobody else had except for me.

John had killed himself on the day we passed on the street. I can’t ever know what was going through his head that day, or what he felt when he was saw me, but the fact remains he took his life after that. And that fact ate away at my soul.

I never let on to anyone what I knew or how it affected me. I hid it well. It was my cross to bear for what I had done to him all those years ago. What I’d done to us. I had discovered years ago in therapy that the root of my problems wasn’t actually me. It was my mother. She was a controlling, manipulating, angry old woman who used those closest to her as a means to an end.

I confronted her in the year following my divorce, realizing she had been a driving force behind my decision to abort my baby. There were subtle hints and guilt trips thrown my way over time, and subconsciously, I acquiesced to her agenda. When John protested my decision, my mom told me he was a controlling husband and was trying to steal away my happiness. I believed her.

Turns out my younger sister was my mother’s “favorite”, which I also learned through therapy, and my own mother conned me into giving up my unborn child and my marriage in order to ensure Ashley’s survival. She didn’t care what happened to me, so long as Ashley would live.

I was glad my sister was alive. I loved her. When I think of her now, I can’t feel regret for my decision. It’s a funny thing though. When I think of John, all I can feel is regret for my decision. How is this emotional contradiction possible?

I cut my mother out of my life completely two years ago, and I didn’t hear a peep from her until about four months back. She’d found out through the grapevine that I was pregnant. She called me, all happy-go-lucky, pretending everything was peachy and nothing had happened. She asked when the due date was so she knew when to fly out and be there for the birth. Ha!

In no uncertain terms I told her to go fuck her hat, and hung up. She would never meet my child. Not in this life or the next. She didn’t deserve me, and she didn’t deserve a grandchild.

I had a second chance at life. It wasn’t the second chance I wanted, but it would be good enough. I would never have the life I was supposed to have, and I had to live with that. I would raise my children, and I would be better mom to them than my mom was to us. That was my purpose.

I liquidated all of John’s assets over the next year, and then slowly distributed the wealth among several really good organizations around the city. There were more than a few tearful thank you’s directed at me that year. If I remember correctly, it had all amounted to roughly $18,000,000 when all was said and done.

John had made a difference in my life, and in the world. He was gone now, and I would forever miss him, but I used my time with John as motivation to be better, and to make the world a better place. Maybe one day I will look in the mirror and feel that I have done right by him.