Paul: He’s gone. My Edmundo is gone.
Before we can type out a thousand questions, he sends another text.
Paul: Car accident. My love didn’t make it.
Paul: My life is over
We immediately start texting, and Reuben calls him directly. Seth and I look at each other, and I know he’s feeling what I am, if not more. He’s known them longer than I have. His eyes are watering, and my heart and stomach twist in grief.
“No, it can’t be true,” he whispers with a trembling lip.
I pull him against me, his fingers clinging to my back. Suddenly, he’s crying into my shirt. I watch the other men desperately trying to reach out to Paul, but there are no answers.
“He’s blocked us, I think, or he’s turned off his phone,” Travis says with red-rimmed eyes. “God, poor Edmundo. Poor Paul.”
“We’ll find a way to take care of Paul. He’s not alone,” I say with as much confidence as I can muster. It’s time to be strong for my friends and my husband. I know how painful it is to lose friends better than anyone, and the guilt that’s associated with it. “That’s a promise.”
“My friends…” Seth whispers.
“I know, baby. I know.”
With a sudden fear in my gut, I cup his face and press my lips to his, which are salty with tears. “I love you so much, Tiger. Never doubt that.”
“I know. I know you do,” he says. I know he gets what I’m trying to convey. He understands me better than anyone. “I love you, too. Always.”
“It’s my turn to be your rock, baby.”
Chapter 34
Paul
Edmundo:Hey,babe.I’llbe home soon. Work was a bitch
today.
Me: Sorry! See you soon. Love you.
Edmundo: Love you!
I sit on the edge of my bed, reading the last text I received from my husband. Who knows how many times I’ve read his last words? Twenty? Fifty? Over a hundred?
I’m dead inside.
There aren’t any tears left to shed.
I’m still in my suit after the funeral. My tie is loosened, but I haven’t bothered to remove it. I barely remember the service, and I didn’t bother going to the reception my friends held for Edmundo.
Our fourteenth anniversary is in two weeks; that happy moment forever ruined by circumstance.
A flicker, a slight tremble from the corner of my mouth, starts. I can’t cry again. I don’t want to. It hurts too fucking much.
With a deep breath, I turn off my phone and tune out the world. From somewhere in the house, my son is crying. I can hear him through the walls, even as big as this house is. That’s how much pain he’s in, which turns my insides out. I should go to him. My kids need me. How can I be there for them when I’m a shell of a man? Half of me is dead—my better half.
Edmundo wasn’t only my husband or the father of our children, but my best friend. My life will never be the same again. Happy memories are obliterated from that one moment that ended in tragedy.
I set my phone down, stand, and leave my room. I knock on Cameron’s door, but he doesn’t respond, so I open his door and step inside. My son is curled on his bed, sniffling.
My husband not only left me behind, but also his eight-year-old son and his six-year-old daughter. They’re old enough to know grief, to feel it. Sophia will be the first to recover and eventually the first to lose memories of Edmundo. Then Cameron will be next. Maybe he’ll have flickers of memories, but he’ll move on with his life, going to school, making friends, growing up… I’ll be left behind in my pain and loss. A part of me will always be missing and feel incomplete.
