Lucky Seven

"And your last signature right here at the bottom Mrs. Houston." The man across from me said as I sat in his office. I could barely see his face, the tears welled in my eyes blurred my vision, and the dark tinted sunglasses I've been wearing for the past week weren't helping either. I signed the last signature, accepted his tenth "sorry for your loss" and walked out toward my car. I sat there for a moment before starting my car, I just needed one moment to myself. Between his death, the funeral, the burial and everything in between I was bone deep exhausted. My parents have been on my back constantly making sure I'm eating, resting, "grieving properly" as my mother put it. What fucking way was there to grieve properly? I truly just wanted to be left alone, even if my thoughts just contained him I would be comforted with the memories of our love, not trying to distract myself from it.

There was no one to blame. That was the hardest part of it all. Usually when death occurs there is something or someone to blame, to point the finger at. In my case, I could blame Preston's outgoing personality on the fact that he was invited to yet another vacation by his college friends. Or I could blame myself for not being able to go with him due to my mandatory business trip. I could blame the rock at the bottom of the cliff he jumped off that shattered his skull killing him instantly. Or I could be mad at Preston, for jumping off in the first damn place. I cried with my head to the steering wheel and the weight of it all, we had been married for 5 years together since our freshman year of college. We hadn't been quite ready for children yet, and that thought made me cry harder at the fact that it wasn't an option anymore. I leaned my head back and ugly cried until I opened my eyes and saw a man watching me from his car parked beside me, a look of worry worn on his face. I pulled off immediately out of pure embarrassment, and headed back towards home.

"Are you ok?" Were the first words my mother uttered when I entered the house. I was tired of her asking me that question, I didn't plan on being ok any time soon. She was in the kitchen stirring a pot of some shit I didn't ask her to cook, the bangles on her wrist clinking together noisily.

"Aren't you supposed to be on a date with Dad?" I ask her ignoring her question.

"Yes, but I felt like it would be too insensitive so I decided to stay here and make sure you are doing ok."

I wanted nothing more than to snap at her. But the reasoning in me only allowed me to take a deep somberly breath in preparation for the reaction I was going to get when these next words left my lips.

"Mother, please go on your date. I am an adult and I need to get through this by myself for a moment. I'll call you when I need you."

"Oh nonsense Rita--I just started your laundry and I folded up some of Prestons clothes to be packed away and--"

"GET OUT MY HOUSE RIGHT NOW!!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. My voice echoing off the walls of the vast home. A home that's supposed to be filled with Preston's laughter, and the wails of our never-to-be children. She was invading my space, touching his stuff, using his favorite pot. I blew my lid, kicked my mother out and wallowed in my self-pity until the morning. That night I dreamt of Prestons co-worker Patricia and when I woke up I recalled not seeing her face the day of the funeral, or at the burial, nor had she called me to express her condolences like everyone else had.

I rose up from my bed and grabbed my cellphone to scroll to her contact, ignoring the several texts from my father and siblings reaching out to me about my spat with mom. Our text thread contained small talk and holiday memes we sent back forth, it wasn't a reflection of the many conversations we had in person at Preston's work events. It was weird that she hadn't reached out so against my better judgement, I called her. My heart thudded in my chest as the line rang and then quickly gave me a message stating the number was out of service. I had no idea why I was trying to reach out to this woman, or what I would even say but something seemed wrong, maybe she was in drowning in grief like I was, but why didn't she come to anything? I shook off the feeling, showered, dressed in a long robe, and made my way into Prestons large office down the hall. I haven't been in it since he passed last month, and everything remained the same, down to the house slippers he kept in here by the door. It was like he was on another work trip, I still couldn't wrap my mind around the fact that he wasn't going to sit in his chair again or sip from his favorite whiskey glass. Sitting in his chair I felt small, he was a large man and required things to accommodate his height to prevent him from bending over too often. I have never gone through his things before, ever, even if I wanted to I opted to trust him and that he would be truthful with me. He had never given me any reason to doubt him, question him, or be suspicious of him, even during our college years.

I opened the slim gray laptop that sat untouched on his expensive wooden desk. Digging through the laptop I found nothing but a bunch of work stuff in termonogly I couldn't understand. I even looked through his emails with Patricia which had been all work related, most of them group conversations with their other co-workers. My coffee machine beeped downstairs, I was giving up, there was nothing in here and I felt shitty for invading his privacy. Right before I shut the laptop, I noticed a folder labeled "P&P". My curiosity led me to open it despite it being labeled the same name as the tech company he worked for. Icons of documents and photos crowded the folder, the photos were mostly him and his friends on vacation until I reached one photo of Patricia smiling on a beach in Mexico. Her long hair slicked back like she had just gotten out of the water, then another of her laughing and pointing at a building. I sat there for an hour going through all of the photos of her topless, him naked, them hugging and kissing like a couple. I had almost forgotten I was his wife, I felt like I was looking at the photos of another man, another person, a complete stranger.

I slammed the laptop closed along with my sadness. Anger took over me as I sat in Prestons office chair, going through the last 10 years of our relationship. There had been no signs. Had there been signs? Had I not been paying enough attention? I thought we were happy. Photos of them dated back to last year, but who knows truly how long this had been going on? When the fuck did this start? Why didn't he just tell me he was unhappy with our marriage? What the fuck was going on? He was patient with me, he came home on time, he brought gifts and flowers, showed me affection, hell he even knew when I started my menstrual! I wanted to cry so badly, I wanted to break everything inside of this office, I wanted to crack this fucking laptop in half and stomp on it like a toddler. But instead, I laughed. I laughed hard and loud like a mad woman, because that's exactly what I felt like. I see why my mother is insistent on being around, she was right, I cannot do this on my own. Grabbing my phone I dialed one of Preston's close friends Kingston and waited for his answer.

"Hey Rita. Are you ok?"

"Where does she live?" I asked in a low guttural tone. I know he knew about this, he had to, the friends usually know.

"Rita I-"

"WHERE THE FUCK DOES SHE LIVE KINGSTON? I ALREADY TRIED TO CALL HER. NO ANSWER! TELL ME WHERE SHE LIVES NOW!"

"Rita, I can't do that. It wouldn't be good, let me come over and explain everything to you please."

"Are you a deceptive asshole too? Should I be hanging up this phone to dial Kimberly and ask her has she checked your phone lately?"

Silence on Kingstons end. "I'll text it to you." He replied, annoyance laced in his town. As if he had any right to be fucking annoyed as an accomplice to my betrayal.

"NOW!" I screamed into my phone hitting the red dial button. The text came through seconds after and I still sent a nice text to Kimberly telling her to check her husbands phone. If my fairytale was falling apart, so will theirs. Be annoyed by that asshole.

I had Patricia's address and every bad intention, but she wasn't the one who owed me loyalty, or honesty. She wasn't the one that stood at the altar and exchanged vows with me. But that did not stop me from getting into my car and driving calmly in silence until I stopped at the cemetery where Preston was buried. I grabbed my coat from the back seat and slid it on, slamming my car door behind me in a rage I couldn't direct anywhere or to anyone at the moment. I walked quickly toward his gravestone, reading all the names I walked passed until I was close enough to see a woman lying fetal position over Preston's grave. My heart jolted in my chest, as I got closer and recognized the dark brown hair I had seen many times before. The same dark brown hair from Preston's laptop. She sat up when she saw me coming, her eyes wide with surprise and tears staining her face.

"I'm so sorry I didn't come to the funeral. I just couldn't. I don't do well with deaths, it's very hard on me. I'm so sorry Rita."

I stared at Patricia silently. I saw why Preston loved her, she was a gorgeous brown skinned woman, tall and slim, freckles scattered across her nose. My blood boiled looking at her, my throat was dry and I had only come to spit on Preston's grave for waisting years of my life and take back to headstone I paid for. Patricia stared up at me as she sat on the floor, dirt covering her slacks, her heels in the grass beside her.

"Are you ok Rita?" she asked me, the sadness slowly leaving her face. I could almost hear her heart racing.

"Get up and leave, now."

Patricia's eyes shifted down toward the floor as she used Preston's headstone to pull herself up, her coat opening slightly to reveal a round pregnant belly under her cropped top. I tried to remember the last time I saw her, surely she hadn't been pregnant then? By who? I don't recall her ever being in a relationship, besides the one she was in with my husband...

"Are you having Preston's baby?" I asked her in disbelief. She wouldn't look at me, her face twisted in guilt as she steadied herself to put her heels back on.

"I'm so sorry Rita. Preston begged me to keep her, I didn't know what to do. Please, please. I'm sorry, it just went too far."

Preston. Begged? Her? Too far? Her?? As in the baby is a girl?

I should have snapped on her like I did my mother earlier. I wanted to push her into the tombstone and rip her hair from her head. I wanted to dig up Preston and split his head open for a second time.

Instead I laughed, loudly, like mad a woman, because that's what I am.

I turned my back on P&P and left. I was letting go. I could not bare anymore unfortunate events. I would sell everything, liquidate all his assets and move far, far away. Start a new life and get rid of my last name. Patricia, Preston and their baby girl could have it. I am done. I am through. I lived a lie. If only his mother had lived to see this, she would probably throw a baby shower at my demise. I hated her just as much as I hate Preston now. I could laugh at the irony of them both being out of my life for good. All these questions I had and the person who was supposed to give me the answers was dead, with a baby on the way.

I pulled out my phone to call my mother and apologize. Bowling ball after bowling ball knocked down pin after pin of my sanity. My hands shook as I handled my phone to dial my mothers number, and before I could I received a notification. It read that my period was a month late, I hadn't even noticed, nor had I been paying attention. I sighed a deep heavy sigh from the pits of my soul.

STRIKE!