Will You Be Sorry When I'm Gone?

Chapter 16

Before

The kids were home for the summer after their first year of university. Matthew had gone to pick them both up, leaving me at home. He’d said he would need as much space in the car as possible, since the kids would be bringing their luggage home. We had rented them each a small storage unit for the summer near the schools for any of the furniture and belongings that they couldn’t leave in the dorm rooms. And their winter clothes, since they would be extremely unlikely to need winter clothes at home in the summer. Everything else was coming home with them.

I was disappointed that Matthew didn’t want me to come with to the airport to pick the kids up. I had missed them since they’d gone back after their winter break. Both of them had chosen to go away with friends for their spring break and Matthew had flown out to see them and take them skiing a couple of times over the winter. Again, he used the excuse that I don’t ski as the reason to not bring me along.

With the kids away at school, Matthew working all the time, and spending a few nights a month in the apartment downtown, I had decided to take some classes just for my own personal enjoyment.

I started with community classes and took an art class. It allowed me to explore different mediums such as paints, oils, pastels, pencils and clay/pottery. I found I really enjoyed painting, but felt I needed more lessons geared towards just learning painting skills and techniques.

I found a small art studio not too far from the house where they held classes weekly, and registered for their oil painting class.

I didn’t like oil painting as much as I had thought I would, but I wasn’t willing to give up, because I found that I really do like creating. So I registered for their watercolour class for the next session. I found that I really enjoyed watercolours much more and continued registering for the subsequent sessions and the more advanced courses.

I’m no Andy Warhol or Freida Kahlo, and I highly doubt any of my art is going to show up in a gallery somewhere. No one would want to buy my paintings, but I loved the feeling of creating something. The instructor gave us all feedback on our work and it was fun to watch my classmates and my skills improve and change as we learned new techniques for blending and deepening colours to portray distance or intensity.

I filled my days with tennis or golf, or even just sitting by the pool at the tennis club. I had lunches with friends - some of whom were the mothers of friends of our children from Masterson.

Once a month I volunteered at the hospital, just for something to do with my days. Unfortunately, their volunteer program only had room for monthly shifts, so, I looked forward to my one day a month when I helped out.

When I had toyed with the idea of going back to work, Matthew had scoffed.

“You’ve been out of the legal field for 18 years already, Amelia. You’re older than all the Junior Partners and you’d have to start from scratch,” he’d said. “You wouldn’t be able to keep up anyway.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

“You’re not 25 anymore, Amelia. You’re 43, you’ve spent the last 18 years at home, raising the kids, and being out of the workforce. It’s changed a lot in the last 18 years. Hell, it’s changed a lot in the last five years!”

“Are you implying I’m not smart enough to catch up to today’s graduates? You know I kept my license current. You know I took all the CE credits to keep me current,” I frowned.

Matthew had wrapped his arms around me, kissed my forehead, smiled at me and said:

“You don’t need to go back to work, Amelia. Enjoy the time you’ve now got for yourself.”

And so, I didn’t go back to work. I stayed home. I became a ‘lady who lunches’. I shopped when I wanted to, and spent days and evenings finding ways to keep myself busy.

I read. I read a lot. I wore out my library card. I read classics and contemporary literature. I reread some of the books I had read in high school and college hoping for a different perspective from when I’d had to read them.

I read chick-lit and whatever the most popular novels were. I read fiction and non-fiction, biographies and autobiographies, I even tried reading Shakespeare just for fun. I gave up after The Tempest.

I plowed through Stephen King, Dean Koontz, James Patterson and Michael Chichton. I explored authors from other countries. I taught myself French hoping one day Matthew might take me to Paris.

I joined a book club.

I watched a lot of bad daytime TV.

I took pictures of the things I did or a really good book I thought maybe Anna would like. I’d send her my reviews and the cover.

I learned to follow baseball and would watch games on TV. I would text Alex and give him my thoughts on the games and the calls and the plays.

I learned to follow hockey and did the same in the winter.

I explored our city. I found cute little bistros, cafes and hidden gems. I’d bring my friends to them if I had really enjoyed it.

I started a blog.

I bought myself a decent digital camera and took photos. I’d upload them and send some to the kids and tell them about the places I went to take the photos, what the day was like, weather and such.

None of it was really fulfilling. It was just… filling. Filling time, filling days, filling hours.

No matter how much I wrote to the kids, if I got a response at all, it was short. Anna might send a full sentence, but rarely more than that.

Alex’s spring break trip to Florida was ‘fine’.

Anna’s spring break trip to Vail was ‘really fun’.

I took my sister and Emily to Napa for a couple of days. We toured wineries and stayed in a cute bed and breakfast. The couple who ran it were elderly but still so spry. I hope to be as active and vital when I’m in my 80s.

We went home with cases of wine. Matthew enjoyed some of them. Others he didn’t even try because he doesn’t like rosés or Pinot Noirs.

And now that it was summer and the kids were home, I’d have things to keep me busy with them.

Except they weren’t interested in spending any time with me. They would both take off whenever they rolled out of bed and be gone all day. Sometimes they came home for dinner. Sometimes they didn’t. I never got an answer when I asked. Or, if I did, it was obvious they found my question too personal. Too prying. That I didn’t need to know where they were.

They rolled in at all hours of the night. I never slept well until they were home.

Matthew went on a few business trips over the summer. I didn’t bother asking if Seline was going as well. I just assumed she would be.

My summer was not much different than the school year had been. I barely saw or spoke to my kids. I just texted them as I had during the year.

Matthew insisted we go on a family picnic for the twins’ birthday and we ended the night with the Founder’s Day fireworks. We’d stopped at the little store that sold the drink the kids liked on our way to the beach, and kept the bottles in the cooler for the fireworks.

At the beach, the kids and Matthew took off into the water. I stayed behind to ‘watch our stuff’.

“We don’t want anyone stealing it,” Matthew said. “Besides, you can read your book and work on your tan.”

If I worked on my tan any more, I could be placed in a bronze museum.

But, as had become usual, I was merely an observer to my family’s fun.

When we had lunch, I tried to get the kids to talk to me. To tell me about their year at school, to acknowledge me in some way.

Alex rolled his eyes and sneered at me, telling me I wouldn’t find it interesting.

Anna told me it was summer and she was pretending school didn’t exist.

Matthew told me to stop prying.

I sighed as I ate my sandwich in silence.

We left the beach for the grove where the fireworks would be held. The square in the middle of our little town just outside the city was already filling up with families. We found a spot and Matthew and the kids set up our picnic blankets and the picnic I had packed.

We greeted neighbours and friends, some whom we only saw on the night of the fireworks.

I always enjoyed the fireworks display and this year was no different. The town would coordinate it to music and it was always fascinating. This year they seemed to be doing a Disney theme, so the music was from Disney movies.

When the kids were little, Matthew would tell them that the fireworks were just for them. That the whole town was celebrating their birthday.

I had told them they were born during the fireworks display and that’s why they were so bright.

The kids had believed Matthew until they went to school.

I remembered an extremely angry five-year-old Alex coming home at the end of the school year. He told me he wasn’t mad at me, he was mad at his dad, and he was also ‘just mad’. Listening to him and his little voice giving Matthew a what for about how the fireworks weren’t for him and Anna and that his father had lied to him was hard not to laugh at. But Matthew and I had remained straight faced while Alex ranted at him and Anna nodded along.

When we had gotten the children into bed and had gone outside to share a bottle of wine and catch up on our days, we had burst into laughter and replayed the entire conversation to each other.

“His face!” Matthew laughed. “How did you not break down when he put his hands on his hips and leaned into his tirade?”

“I really do not know. I was having a very hard time keeping a straight and serious looking face. Did you see Anna trying to agree but losing the plot?” I asked.

We both broke down laughing.

Even still, it didn’t change their love for the display and it was our tradition anyway. We always went and we always enjoyed the evening, even as more and more often, the kids gravitated towards Matthew, leaving me to observe from the outside.

At the end of the summer, Matthew took the kids back to school. They took my Range Rover and he drove them back.

I stayed home. They needed the space. Matthew said he would stop at hotels on his way back so he wouldn’t drive tired.

Once again, I was left behind. A second thought if I was lucky enough to even be a thought.

With the kids back at school, Matthew being mostly absent, even when he was home, I went back to my quiet life of quiet activities. I still texted the kids and sent photos hoping to get some engagement from them.

We spent Thanksgiving in Aruba again. Matthew was less distracted by work and spent more time with me than the previous year. And by that I mean he was within my view. But even away from home, Matthew was never truly ‘with’ me. He got up early to swim. He often went to breakfast from the pool, forgetting, presumably, to see if I was awake yet to join him.

He ran on the beach. He played beach volleyball with the college aged kids on holiday. He was glued to his phone, texting the kids, sending photos, texting Seline.

The room was used for sleeping and changing. Nothing else. Matthew didn’t touch me once the entire week.

The kids were home for Christmas break again but I almost never saw them. They went out with friends, they went out together. They went to Seline’s and hung out with her son Daryl. They stayed out late and slept in.

The longest I saw them was Christmas morning when we exchanged gifts.

I had gotten Alex a Rolex similar to his dad’s. I got Anna a watch and a necklace that I had made from my mother’s ring.

Anna had gotten me books that I had sent her reviews about after I had read them.

Alex got me a gift card to a local shop I’d mentioned once. I’d told him how I’d watched the owner berate a woman who was short a few dollars and wanted to take one of the items out of her basket to be able to afford her purchases. I had offered to pay the extra few dollars but the shop owner wouldn’t have it.

“Don’t shop in my store if you can’t afford it!” She had yelled at the woman.

Terribly embarrassed, the woman abandoned her purchases and left the store.

I gave the owner a piece of my mind, left my own purchases and followed the woman out. I saw her outside and apologized if I had embarrassed her. She assured me I hadn’t and she was grateful I had stepped in.

“It’s been a tough month,” she said. “I ran out of money before I ran out of month. But she didn’t have to be so cruel. I’ve been shopping here for six years. She’s lost a loyal customer!”

“Two,” I said.

“I won’t shop here again, either. You weren’t wrong. You weren't a problem. You simply wanted to take an item out of your order. She was out of line,” I sympathized.

I never shopped there again. Alex’s gift card was still in my desk.

The kids were back at school in early January and I went back to filling my days with things that didn’t matter.

Chapter 17

Present

“There’s been a development in the case of missing Almeda woman Amelia Davenport.”

No one turned the TV off anymore.

“As it turns out, the car that was found at the bottom of the embankment near the Almeda exit was registered to Matthew Davenport, president and CEO of Davenport Industries and husband of the missing Mrs. Davenport. The registration matches the indigo Miata the missing woman was reported to have been driving on the night she is believed to have disappeared.”

“There was no body found with or near the car,” the police officer who had brought the news to my family said on camera from our driveway.

Officer Shelton had become a fixture around the house. The kids and Matthew called him Aaron. He called the kids, Matthew, my in-laws and my siblings, and of course Emily, by their first names.

“We are asking the public to please keep their eyes and ears open. Mrs. Davenport, Amelia, could be injured, confused, and lost. We are asking everyone in the area to please check their sheds, pool houses, garages, any place on their property that Amelia may have sought shelter. She may be frightened and she is most likely grievously injured and will require immediate medical attention.”

The camera panned across our property showing our home and driveway.

“Amelia Davenport’s car was found at the bottom of the embankment near the Almeda exit, and it is unclear if the car was the cause of last week’s bush fire, or destroyed by the fire itself. A purse was found in the car and what was able to be salvaged was indeed ID belonging to the missing woman.”

“She has no money on her, no credit cards, no identification. She may have her phone with her, as that was not found with the car or the purse, however her family states it has been going to voicemail since Founder’s Day and very likely may not have any battery left, or may have been damaged in the crash. It is thought that Mrs. Davenport’s car was somehow pushed off the road and through the barrier where it rolled down the embankment before coming to rest against a tree. From the state of the car, the damage it sustained and the grade of the embankment it is highly likely that Mrs. Davenport has some severe injuries. We need to find her and get her to medical treatment.”

“Shopkeepers in the area are also being asked to be vigilant and report any suspicious activity in or around their stores in case Mrs. Davenport seeks aid, food, or shelter. They are being asked to check their garbage sheds, dumpster bins and alleyways.

“Volunteers and police have been canvassing the neighborhoods and searching the area where Mrs. Davenport’s car was found. So far there has been no sighting of the missing woman.”

Alex got up and went outside, dropping into a lounge chair by the pool. Seline, who continued to show up, went outside to him.

“Alex?” She said, quietly, while sitting down beside him. “What’s up, sweetheart?”

“Don’t call me that,” Alex said, tersely. “My mom calls me that. You don’t.”

“Alex,” Seline said.

“No! Don’t you understand? It’s because of you she’s missing!” Alex said angrily.

“Alex, I had nothing to do with whatever has happened to your mom.”

“For years you treated her like s**t. You pretended to forget her name, you belittled her. You flaunted your relationship with Dad. You made her feel like she didn’t have any worth!”

“Alex, you don’t understand my relationship with your dad,” Seline said.

Oh, Seline. I think he does.

“Your dad and I, we grew up together. We went to school together. Our parents often joked that they’d get us to marry each other and blend our families. I grew up with that as the plan. We dated in high school because it was expected. I love your father. But I knew he loved, loves, your mother more.”

Wait, what?

“Then what was all that s**t you pulled? The bra in the apartment? Showing up everywhere? Never remembering her name? Or pretending? Showing up in Paris? Klosters? Colorado? New York? And Mom put up with you. You ruined their marriage! You made Mom feel like she didn’t matter!” Alex cried.

“You and your sister and your father aren’t innocent either, Alexander Davenport! I saw how you all pulled away from Amelia. You all left her behind when you went on ski trips. You complained about her to Daryl and your friends,” Seline said.

She hadn’t been invited on those trips? She’d simply inserted herself into my family’s activities? She hadn’t gone to Paris with Matthew? She’d just taken it upon herself to go?

“I didn’t say we were innocent. We f****d up, too. We ignored her. But that’s on us. And even still, even though we didn’t treat her as well as she deserved, she still loved us. Loves us. She always made sure to keep us informed about what she was up to. I never thought I’d miss those paragraphs of texts but I’d give anything right now to read some drivel about art class or the Angels’ record.”

Alex broke down sobbing. Seline, in an act of sympathy I didn’t think possible of her, moved over beside him and wrapped him in her arms, letting him sob on her.

“No!” Alex shouted, jumping up. “You don’t get to play at being the emotional support for us now! You contributed to Mom’s misery! You made things worse last year at New Year’s and this year after Daryl’s graduation!”

Seline had invited us to Daryl’s graduation party where she had drawn Matthew and my kids into a sphere where she acted like she was also my kids’ mother. She had fawned all over them, had touted their achievements with pride as though she were the one who had spent hours trying to explain legal concepts, math equations, biology assignments and edited English papers. As though she had worried nights over exam results and waiting for acceptance letters from universities.

As had become the norm, I was shuffled off to the side. No one spoke to me except a couple of women who asked me my name and then looked confused when I mentioned I was Matthew’s wife.

“What’s going on out here?” Matthew said, coming outside and looking between Seline and Alex.

“Alex got upset and came out here, so I came to make sure he was okay.”

“Seline, why are you even here? You’ve never liked Amelia. Are you disaster touring or something? Don’t you have a child of your own to tend to?” Matthew asked.

“Daryl’s with his dad,” Seline said. “And I wanted to be here for you, Matty.”

“This isn’t a picnic, Seline. This isn’t a ski trip you can just invite yourself to. Do you understand what is happening here? Do you understand that Amelia is missing, Seline? It’s been two weeks and we have no clue where she is. What are you hanging around for?”

“Matty,” she said.

“Stop calling me that! We aren’t 16 anymore. We aren’t dating. I’m married, Seline. I’m married to Amelia. I’m sorry your marriage blew up and you’re alone, but I married Amelia because I loved - I love - her. I’m sorry if you can’t accept that but it isn’t going to change,” Matthew said.

“You could barely stand her, Matty, Matthew. You complained about her all the time!” Seline said.

“I vented some frustrations. That doesn’t mean I stopped loving her,” Matthew said.

“You have a funny way of showing it,” Seline crossed her arms. “You pushed her aside at every opportunity. You went away with the kids without her. You ignored her at every turn. If that’s love, I think I dodged a bullet.”

Remember when I was gobsmacked earlier? Yep. Same now. Seline was standing up for me? Sort of.

“I know,” Matthew said, looking at his feet. “I took her for granted. She was always there so I guess I just assumed she would always be there. She took - takes - care of the house and the kids and she never complained about it. I made her stop working when the kids were born and I never encouraged her to go back to work. In fact, last year when the kids went away to school I actively discouraged her from going back. I did that. I made her feel undervalued. I left her to fill her days with whatever she did to fill her days. I didn’t encourage her to do anything and I stopped listening when she would tell me what she did. But that’s on me.”

Where was all this honesty when I was alive, Matthew? Why, if you knew how you were treating me, how I was probably feeling, how lost and alone you were making me feel, how you pulled the kids away from me, the older they got, did you let it happen?

Why did you let me think you were having an affair? Why did you let me think you had invited Seline to Paris? Did I matter so little to you by that point that you didn’t think that I was affected in any way? Did you take my silence for acceptance?

“Dad, we were really mean to Mom. Why? How come we stopped taking her with us? She wouldn’t have been bored while we were skiing. She always had a book, the resorts had all sorts of things she could have done. She could have learned to ski,” Alex said.

“I thought skiing was kind of our thing. You, me and Anna. It was our trip to connect,” Matthew said.

“Yeah, but we didn’t do anything like that with Mom. Any time she tried to get us to go away with her we always found excuses not to,” Alex said, tears coming to his eyes. “Dad, I really miss her. And I’m scared something happened to her. Something really bad.”

Matthew went over to Alex and pulled him into a hug. Alex cried into his father’s chest. My heart broke. My poor son. I wanted to wrap him in my arms and tell him he was going to be okay. He’d learn to navigate his world without me. Hopefully, he’d remember the lessons I tried to teach them, even as Matthew undermined my discipline at every turn.

Anna came outside.

“Dad? Alex?” She said approaching them. “Are you guys okay?”

“No,” Alex said from Matthew’s chest. “I miss Mom and I’m scared.”

“Me too,” Anna said, wrapping her arms around her father and brother.

“I’m going to go,” Seline said. “I’m sorry about everything. I’m sorry I interfered and I’m sorry I treated Amelia so poorly. I really do hope that she is okay. Please, please let me know when you hear anything. I may not have treated her well, but I do care.”

“Thanks, Seline,” Matthew said. “We’ll let you know when we hear anything.”

“Would it be alright with you if I joined the volunteer teams on the searches?” Seline asked. “I don’t want to step on toes but I do want to help somehow.”

“Do what you want to do,” Matthew said. “Just stop inserting yourself into this. Stop pretending you are part of this family. You aren’t.”

“Yes, I get that Matthew. You’ve made that loud and clear,” Seline said. She left and I watched as she did.

I wasn’t sure what to feel. Seline had laid it all out. Her true feelings and the reason for how she acted. She didn’t hate me because she thought I was beneath her. She hated me because she had loved Matthew and Matthew hadn’t loved her back. She probably would have hated anyone Matthew married. It wasn’t me specifically.

And to hear my husband and my children worry, to see them cry, to hear them realize how they had treated me, how they had left me behind, pulled themselves away from me as they got older, and the fact that they realize it now, even though it’s too late for them to make amends, well, at least I’m hearing it now. At least I’m here to hear it. But, I’m beginning to wonder how long I’ll be here to keep an eye on them, to hear their worry, and their love coming after so many years of feeling like I was just a piece of the furniture. That I held no more significance than the nanny, or Mrs. Watkins.

Oh, Mrs. Watkins.

I’ve watched her as she watches my family worry, and cry, and as she’s tried my phone over and over hoping maybe she would be the one to get through. I’ve watched as she kneels by her bed, her rosary in hand, praying for me. Praying for my safe return, or praying for my soul in case the worst had happened.

I’d known she was Catholic since we hired her. I always made sure she got Sunday off to attend mass at the Catholic Church she frequented. I made sure she was able to attend mass when she wanted to - for the holidays and observances that were important to her. I even went to Christmas Mass with her a couple of times when Matthew and the kids had taken off over the winter break, always leaving me behind. I wasn’t religious. I wasn’t raised Catholic anyway, but I respected Mrs. Watkins’ faith and when she invited me to join her on Christmas that first year I was left behind, I joined. I knew the carols they sang, and the candles that lit the church. I felt welcome and warm. I went with Mrs. Watkins a few times over the years.

I wrapped my arms around my family anyway. All three of them shivered.

“Did you feel that, too?” Matthew asked the kids. “That sudden chill!”

“Yeah,” Alex said. “That was weird.”