I can’t help but find it amusing that Dad is very much looking forward to his ex-wife’s burial. “I’m thinking of doing it in Bedford Hills, actually. I’m gonna call Father Thomas after breakfast and—”
“In Bedford Hills?” There’s an ounce of astonishment in his tone. “You mean you want to bury her there?”
“Dad, we have land that stretches for miles. I don’t see what the problem is.”
“The irony,” Dad snaps. “When your mom was alive, you never wanted to be near her and now that she’s gone, you want to bury her in the backyard. I don’t get it.”
“It’s her last wish. I’m just honoring it,” I tell him. “Don’t worry—if she starts bothering me, I will send her back to the Netherlands.”
A quick laughter erupts from the other side of the line, and I’m glad I managed to light up his mood. “That’s a viable option. Well, shall I pass by around one-thirty?”
“Yes, that would be great.”
Before I can finish the call, though, Dad asks, “You aren’t gonna miss her, are you?”
“Um,” his question leaves me a bit speechless and I wonder if it’s truly a question he’s asking to me or to himself. Regardless, I press my lips tight, pondering it. “I don’t know. I, um, it’s a weird feeling for sure,” I venture. “In a way, I’m not gonna miss her, but in another, I had hopes we could get to a better place and that she’d finally turn the page…you know?”
“Ah, yes, hope never dies.”
“And you?” I ask him.
“Well…” I can sense the uneasiness in his voice as he searches for the best words to put on. “Despite everything we went through, she was my ex-wife and your mother, so I guess I also hoped she’d have turned the page after seeing how you and Alex were living happily together.”
“Yeah, but alas, she didn’t. I think she’s by far more stubborn than both of us combined,” I tell him.
Dad exhales loudly in return. “It’s a pity she was so obstinate. A bit of flexibility would’ve gone a long way. But her sense of moral righteousness has always gotten in the way.” As he says those words, I can’t help but remember when Mom reported him and Alex to the police twenty years back. Dad had only told her the truth about Janette, but Mom didn’t waste any time betraying him. Maybe that’s why he never considered dating again afterward.
A few hours later, I finally received some good news: I managed to persuade Father Thomas to fly in on Saturday to do the Mass. A pity I’ll see him again under such circumstances, but I’m sure Mom would’ve appreciated the gesture.
I check my iPhone once more and since Alex hasn’t texted me back, I decide to call his attorney directly. After all, I’m pretty sure Ryan knows what’s happening. I press the call button and put the phone against my cheek. The ringtone starts radiating through my ear and I wait and wait…
“Yes?” I hear a male voice asking from the other side at long last.
“Hi, Ryan, um, it’s Petra…” My voice sounds way too soft, so I steady it a bit. “How is Alex doing? Um, do you know where he is? I’ve tried calling him many times, but he isn’t answering me.”
“Hi, Petra,” he greets, his tone polite as always. “Yes, he just got released an hour ago or so and is spending the rest of the day in his private residence.”
“His private residence?” I ask immediately. “I’m here at our condo, and he isn’t here.”
“I meant, he’s staying in a hotel which provides private residences.”
“Oh,” I utter, the news troubling me even more than I’d like to admit. “And, um, is there any reason why he isn’t coming back home?”
“Your husband is taking a few days off.” What? His unexpected answer crushes me to the core. “He needs some time alone. Don’t take it personally, but he needs time to process everything that happened over the last twenty-four hours. I’ll keep you updated.”
Despite the best of his intentions, his answer doesn’t satisfy me. “But why? Why doesn’t he want to talk to me? Where’s he staying?”
“Petra…” He takes a deep breath, trying to find the best words to put on, yet nothing seems to come out. “Give him some time, alright?”
That’s all he has got to say? Wow. It’s clear Ryan wants to keep me in the dark, but I can’t figure why he can’t just tell me what’s really going on.
“Alright, thanks.” And I hang-up, still barely believing my husband isn’t coming back home after everything that has happened. Despite wanting to call him one more time, I refrain myself from doing so. The last thing I need is for him to believe I’m desperate. Hell, no! If he wants to play and torment me with his stupid game by all means, he can do as he wishes. I do, however, send him one last text: “Just spoke to Ryan who told me you aren’t coming back home for the next few days. Wow. What a responsible adult you are. Btw, I’m doing the funeral in Bedford Hills this Sunday. You are welcome to join. Father Thomas will be flying in to do the Mass. Enjoy your private residence.” I want to call him a few names, but I refrain myself from doing so.
A minute or so after sending the text, my iPhone starts ringing again, and for a split second, I thought it was my husband who had just read my message and decided to explain himself to me. But alas, it isn’t, and despite the disappointment, I draw out a breath, and pick up the call.
“Good morning.” Matt sounds like a ray of sunshine casting light on my gloomy mind. “How are you feeling today?”
“Hey!” I try to match his tone, but fail miserably. “Um, I’m okay more or less…”
Despite my answer, Matt keeps his voice just as joyful. “Guess who’s having her first prenatal check-up Friday at four p.m.?”
“Matt!” I snap back. “I can’t believe you booked it for me.”
“Of course I did, and I’m pretty sure if I hadn’t done it, you wouldn’t do it yourself until maybe next week or even the week after that.”
He isn’t wrong, though. We still have to finalize the funeral arrangements and there are another gazillion things to do following the death of my mother.
“I’m not even sure if that test is accurate or not,” I insist. “Like, I don’t even have any symptoms…”
“One more reason to go, then,” he says just as fast. “At least you’ll be a hundred percent sure.”
Heaving a sigh, I ponder his words. “Alright, I should be free around that time. But please, no more appointments without checking with me first.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he teases, and his sense of humor brings a much-needed smile to my lips. “By the way, um, did you manage to talk to him? My dad told me Alex just got released an hour or so ago.”
His question takes my smile away, and I drop my gaze as I think of an answer to give him. “No, he isn’t answering me right now. I guess he’s just doing it as some sort of revenge because I did the same to him yesterday.”
“Damn,” he utters, before falling silent for a moment, most likely not knowing what else to say. “I’m sorry for his behavior.”