Will You Be Sorry When I'm Gone?

Chapter 14

Before

“Amelia! Where are you?” Matthew’s excited voice called through the house.

“I’m right here,” I said, coming out of my study where I’d been checking on Alex’s flight from New York, where the closest airport was that would bring him home.

It was winter break and the kids were coming home from their schools. Anna was flying in tomorrow, as she had one last exam today, and Alex had finished his last exam this morning and went straight to the airport from there.

I was excited to see my children. They had chosen to stay at school for Thanksgiving and so Matthew had taken me to Aruba for the holiday.

He may as well have simply sent me on my own for all the time we spent together.

Every morning he got up and went for a swim. By the time I got up, about an hour later, he managed to find something else to do. He spent most of his time in the Business Center or in the room on his laptop.

“Go get a massage or something,” he said the second day when I tried to get him to come spend some time with me. “I have to deal with this issue.”

He continuously complained that this was the worst time he could have taken off, as though it had been me insisting we go away. As if if hadn’t been his idea.

Meanwhile, I had hoped this trip would let us reconnect some. Now that the kids were away at school and our time had fewer demands, I had hoped when Matthew suggested Aruba for Thanksgiving that he meant we’d spend the time together.

Two days in, I’d spent sixteen hours total with him. Those would be the eight hours or so we spent sleeping.

And so far, that’s all we’d done in our room. Sleep. Matthew didn’t touch me when he came to bed. If I even suggested more than sleeping he complained he was tired.

We’d spent a week at the resort and I’d only seen my husband at night. And based on his demeanour, I knew he’d been speaking to Seline from there.

But now Christmas was coming and with it, my children would be home.

I followed Matthew out to the car - my Range Rover. I did like it. After the kids’ graduation, I had finally driven it for a longer trip than to the seamstress down the hill.

It was a fun car to drive, and I’d taken it to show off to Kieran and Alecia one weekend when we decided to spend the weekend together at the beach. Matthew had been on a business trip and so, rather than stay in my house all alone, I offered the weekend to my siblings and the three of us stayed in a hotel on the beach and pampered ourselves for three days.

I did up my seatbelt as Matthew started the car.

“Ready?” He asked.

“Yep,” I said, pulling out my phone. I didn’t even bother trying to hold his hand anymore. Every time I did, he pulled it away as though it was made of acid. Or on fire.

I scrolled through my socials, checked Alex’s flight was still on time, and played a couple of rounds of Words With Friends with Emily. She was kicking my ass.

I barely registered that we’d arrived at the arrivals level at the airport until Matthew parked the car.

“Let’s go,” he smiled at me. Nodding I undid my seatbelt and followed Matthew into the terminal.

I was excited to see Alex. Every text or email I sent to him was answered with one or two words if I got an answer at all. ‘Fine,’ when I asked how school was. ‘Good,’ when I asked how his roommate and he were getting along.

‘I’ll tell you another time,’ was the longest response I got from him when he’d told Matthew he was going to a frat party and I’d asked how it was.

Matthew got answers. He got paragraphs. He got phone calls.

I got all my information on my son from my husband. I got voicemail when I tried to call him.

“He’s doing fine, Amelia,” Matthew said when I tried to complain that I couldn’t get Alex to give me a moment of his time. “He’s working hard and he can’t keep a schedule that suits you. He’s three hours ahead, don’t forget.”

I didn’t forget. It’s why I called his cell when I knew he wasn’t in class and was unlikely to be in bed. But regardless of the time, Matthew’s calls were answered. Mine were sent to voicemail. Every time. But he always had time for a call from his father.

I’d leave him messages. He’d never return them. But at least he couldn’t complain that if I wanted to talk to him I could have left a message. I left a message every time.

Anna, on the other hand at least, offered me more than one word answers. When she did answer. Like her brother, my calls went to voicemail, texts went unanswered, messages weren’t returned.

I tried not to take it personally, at least, at first. They were getting settled into new surroundings. Meeting new people, making new friends and navigating a new school.

But when we got back from Aruba and the kids were still only sending me the barest of responses while Matthew could spend hours on the phone with them, I started feeling that it wasn’t my imagination.

Maybe things would be different once they were home, I thought. When they don’t have the distractions of classes, exams, parties and friends.

Matthew and I waited by the domestic arrivals exit. The board said Alex’s plane had landed so we were now just waiting for him to deplane and get his luggage. I couldn’t imagine he’d have much in that regard.

The doors to the luggage carousel area opened as passengers started to come through and found their people. I looked at every passenger looking for my son.

Finally, I saw him. He looked good. I smiled as he came up to us. He held out his hand to shake Matthew’s and looked so serious. But as soon as he grasped his father’s hand, his face broke out into a huge grin and he pulled his father in for a hug.

“Welcome home, son,” Matthew gushed. “How was the flight?”

“Not bad,” Alex said, pulling his suitcase behind him as he started to head towards the parking lot. “A little turbulence but nothing major. Not like that flight to Kloster.”

Matthew and Alex laughed as they walked away, leaving me behind without a second glance.

Ah. Yes. Klosters. The Swiss ski resort Matthew took the twins to for their thirteenth birthday. I hadn’t been invited because, once again, I don’t ski. And obviously I would be terribly bored sitting in the chalet of a Swiss ski resort or exploring the Swiss village it was located in. No. Absolutely not. I can’t imagine how I could have managed to spend my days.

I never did understand why they thought I had more to do here, without them, than I would find even sitting in a ski resort. They aren’t sparse cabins. They have spas and gyms and pools and saunas.

They’re right. I would have been horribly bored with all those amenities at my disposal.

I’d flown myself to New York that holiday and stayed in a hotel overlooking Times Square. I watched the ball drop from the comfort of my suite, sipping champagne and eating shrimp cocktail.

I do not recommend drinking a magnum of champagne by yourself.

I watched as my husband and son headed towards the elevator to the parking lot. They still hadn’t noticed I wasn’t there. A thought went fleeting through my mind. If I died, would they even miss me? Would they even notice?

A moment later, they looked at each other and then turned around. Both of them looked exasperated. Imagine how I felt.

“What are you doing?” Matthew asked, his hand on his hip.

“Geez, Mom,” Alex rolled his eyes. “What is up with you?”

“I was just wondering something,” I said, dismissively.

“What?” Matthew asked.

“Would you miss me if I were gone?” I looked at both of them.

Alex frowned. Matthew looked confused.

“What are you talking about?” He asked. “Can we talk about this later?”

I shrugged.

“Sure,” I muttered as I walked past them towards the elevators.

We rode the elevator in silence and I could tell Alex was uncomfortable. He kept shifting feet and I saw him glance at his father in the polished metal of the elevator doors. Matthew shrugged.

When we got to the car, Matthew unlocked it and I got into the passenger seat while Matthew and Alex loaded his suitcase and backpack into the trunk.

Alex hesitated before getting into the back, looking at his father who shrugged and dipped his head towards the back seat. Alex sighed as he got in back and did up his seatbelt.

We pulled away from the airport parking lot in silence.

When we pulled onto the highway, Matthew tapped the steering wheel three times. His indicator that he had something he was struggling with. Something he wanted to say but couldn’t find the right words

“Amelia?” He said.

“Mmhm?” I hummed, not turning away from the window.

“I, what, back there, in the, when we, in the airport, what…” Matthew stammered.

“What Dad is trying to say is what the f**k was that in the airport?” Alex frowned.

“Watch how you talk to your mother, Alex,” Matthew said. Alex rolled his eyes.

“In a less eloquent manner than I would have used, to paraphrase our son, what was that back there in the airport?”

“It was nothing, really. I just wondered something to myself. You know. Just silly mom thinking,” I said, non-chalantly.

“What did you mean by ‘would we miss you if you were gone’?” Alex asked. “Are you suicidal or something?”

“Alex!” Matthew glared at our son in the mirror.

“What? Don’t tell me you weren’t thinking it! What else would she mean? Unless,” Alex leaned forward and actually looked at me. I glanced at him quickly.

“Mom, are you dying? Do you have cancer or something?”

I turned around to look at my son, and caught Matthew trying to keep his attention on the road, but his eyes were darting back and forth at me.

“No, Alex. I’m not dying or anything. I’m not suicidal. I promise. I am okay. I’m fine. It was just something I was wondering about and nothing for you to worry about.”

Alex frowned at me.

“Honest?” He asked.

“Honest” I replied.

“Pinly, pinky high-five promise?” He asked.

Tears came to my eyes. I couldn’t believe he remembered that.

Whenever the kids had doctor’s appointments, they would ask if there would be needles. If there were, I would tell them and we’d talk about their fears and I would remind them they were to help them stay healthy and strong. And then I’d remind them that we always stopped for ice cream when we had to have needles.

After one appointment where I hadn’t known there would be a vaccine, I had to come up with a reason for the kids to believe me. So I came up with out Honest Handshake. You link pinkies on each hand and then give each other a high five. They were four. Give me a break.

That became the “Pinky, Pinky, High-Five Promise Handshake” which we eventually changed to the “Honest Handshake” because it was shorter.

“I pinky, pinky, high-five promise,” I said, smiling through my tears.

Alex nodded and sat back in his seat.

I returned to looking out the window and feeling Marthew stealing glances at me periodically.

The Christmas holidays went by way too fast. And I can’t honestly say they were completely merry.

After a quiet Christmas morning with the kids at home, where we’d all exchanged gifts, we went over to Matthew’s parents for Christmas dinner and for them to spoil their grandchildren. You can probably guess who else was invited.

Everything was fine until New Year’s Eve.

We were at Matthew’s parents, as we are every year. They put on a big party every year. We are obligated to go and honestly, it’s not always so bad. I get along with most, if not all, of the wives of David and Matthew’s colleagues and friends.

As she was every year, Seline was invited. She wasted no time hitting the bar. It wasn’t long before she was wasted herself.

“Amica,” she slurred at me. “D’you lake, liken my dress?”

I could have gotten drunk just off the fumes coming out of her mouth.

“It’s a very nice dress, Seline,” I said, trying to get her off of me and looking around for Matthew or someone to help get her away. Matthew caught sight of us and ended his conversation quickly.

“Know where I gots it from?” Selina hiccuped.

“I do not,” I said giving Matthew pleading eyes to hurry up.

“I got it in Paris. In November,” Selina laughed.

November? Why would she feel the need to tell me when she got it. Paris in November?

My eyes met Matthew’s as he reached Seline and I. I’m sure he could see the hurt on my face as he pulled Seline off of me. I turned away and hurried out of the house. I ran down the driveway hearing Matthew calling my name as he came after me.

I would not cry. I would not cry. I continued hurrying down the driveway towards the street. I’d call a rideshare and go, go where? Home, I guess, for now.

Matthew caught up with me and stopped me.

“Leave me alone,” I said angrily, trying to hold my tears.

“Amelia, what is it? Why are you so upset? What happened?”

I stared at him.

“How long?” I asked.

“How long, what?” Matthew asked. I glared at him, shook my head and pushed past him. He grabbed me by the shoulders and turned me around to face him. “Amelia?”

I took a deep breath.

“How long do you expect me to put up with this? With her?” I fumed.

“With. Wh-what? Who?” He stammered.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what or who I am talking about!” I spat at him. “I have tolerated this for twenty three years, Matthew. I’ve turned a blind eye, I’ve pretended not to let it bother me. But it’s not enough that you belittle me, teach the kids they don’t need to respect me or any of the lessons I tried to teach them. But you have to flaunt your w***e above me?”

Matthew frowned at the word ‘w***e’.

“What in god’s name are you talking about?” He asked.

“Did you see the dress Seline was wearing? Lovely, wasn’t it?” I asked.

“Sure. I guess. I didn’t notice,” Matthew shrugged.

“You didn’t? Are you sure? Didn’t it look familiar?” I spat.

“Amelia, what are you trying to get at?” Matthew asked, getting testy.

“Seline told me where she got her dress,” I said, crossing my arms.

“Great. Why? You and she have very different styles,” Matthew said, visibly confused.

“You might find it interesting,” I said. Matthew rolled his eyes.

“Why?” He asked.

“She told me she got it in Paris,” I said. Matthew didn’t flinch. “In November.”

I saw his Adam’s apple jump up and down as he swallowed, realization coming to his face.

“So, I ask you again, how long do you expect me to pretend?”

“Amelia, can we talk about this? Please? I know. It was stupid. I was stupid. I, it was a mistake. Honey, please,” Matthew pleaded with me.

“I don’t think I can get over this, Matthew,” I said.

“Amelia, please. Let me explain,” he begged.

“There is absolutely nothing I want to hear from you or say to you right now. I’m going home. Make whatever excuse you want, tell your mother I told her to stuff it. I don’t care. But I am not staying here another minute to be ridiculed by your family. Because I have absolutely no doubt they already know.”

“Amelia, please, sweetheart. Calm down. We’ll talk about it, okay? But yeah. You go home. I’ll tell my mother and the kids you weren’t feeling well so I sent you home in a cab. We won’t stay too late, okay?”

“Honestly Matthew, I don’t care,” I said. “Stay as late as you want. Stay overnight. Stay forever. Right now I couldn’t care less.”

“Go home, get some sleep, we’ll talk in the morning. Okay?” Matthew said.

My ride arrived and I got into the car without a second glance or another word. I locked the bedroom door when I went to bed.

Matthew and the kids came home around one. I heard Matthew telling the kids to be quiet and to not bug me. I heard him try the door handle and bump into the door.

“Amelia?” He knocked quietly. “Honey? Are you awake? Can you let me in? Please sweetheart?”

I lay curled up in bed with my arms around myself and letting the tears flow from my eyes. I didn’t answer him.

“Amelia? Hon?” Matthew tried once more. I heard him drop his head onto the door. “Amelia. I’m really sorry. Please, let’s talk about it?”

I squeezed my eyes shut as I silenced a sob.

“I’ll be in the blue guest room, if you need me,” he said quietly. He patted the door three times before I heard him walk away.

The ride to the airport two days later, to send the kids back to school was a mostly silent affair.

“Mom?” Anna said, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, hon?” I asked, turning around to look at her.

“Are you okay?” She asked.

“I’m fine, sweetheart,” I smiled.

“Are you mad at me? Or Alex?” She glanced at her brother. I adjusted my gaze and looked at my son, who was looking at me with a mix of concern and confusion. I smiled at him.

“No, hon. I’m not mad at either of you. Why would I be? I’m just sad that the break is over and you two have to go back to school. I like having you home,” I said. And I meant it.

“Are you and Dad okay?” Alex asked.

“You two don’t have anything to worry about, okay? It’s married people stuff and it’s complicated. But you two don’t need to worry. Promise?” I asked.

“Pinky, pinky high-five promise?” Alex smirked.

I smiled.

“Pinky, pinky high five promise.”

The Miata showed up the next day.