Broken Love Story (Love 3)

“Would you like something to drink?” she asks, going into the kitchen.

“Water,” Crystal says. Samantha goes to the fridge, opening the door, and we see the drawings on the fridge. “I can’t fucking …” she mumbles as I place my head down and count to ten. I count to ten and curse him all the way to hell.

She comes back, handing us each a bottle. “I don’t know what the protocol is for any of this, so I don’t want to be rude in any way.” She crosses her hands over her chest, and there it is, the anger that was in her eyes.

“We just want to talk,” I finally say. She nods at me and walks to the table.

“I need to sit down.” She almost collapses in the chair. Crystal sits in front of her, and I take a seat beside her.

“Are you okay?” I can’t help but ask her. I love my cousin, but if this is going to push Samantha over the edge, we aren’t doing this fucking closure shit.

“No, actually, I’m not okay. I’m the opposite of okay,” she sighs. “I have to pick the girls up in an hour,” she starts and then puts her hands on the table as she wrings her fingers. My hands itch to reach over and squeeze them, to tell her it’s fine, it’s going to be okay, but I don’t know that.

“Did you know?” Crystal asks the one question everyone has been dying to ask; the question that could have changed everything.

Her head shakes from right to left. “Not a fucking clue.” She wipes a tear from her face. “How long were they together?” she asks, and it’s so fucking clear that we aren’t the only ones looking for answers. We aren’t the only ones questioning everything.

“They were married for the past six months and dated for about eighteen.” Crystal tells her the truth. It’s not about lying; it’s about fucking closure—for her and for us.

She nods her head. “I just thought we were going through a rough patch.” She doesn’t try to wipe away the tears this time. “I even felt him get distant, and we spoke about it.” She sniffles as we listen to her. “He said it was all in my head.”

“Do the kids know?” I have to ask. I have to know, but she shakes her head.

“My in-laws will not permit me to tell them anything except that he died in a car crash.” Her voice comes out in a whisper, and I have so many more questions to ask, but I don’t. I sit here the whole time watching her, looking at her, studying her.

“Your in-laws are not your boss!” Crystal shouts, and I see something flicker in Samantha’s eyes. A war is raging, but I’m not sure for what. And then she cuts me off at my knees.

“I’m a foster child. I grew up in the system. They are the only family I have, so they are not the boss of me, but they are my family.” She now sits up. “It is also none of your business how I handle my children.” Bull’s-eye. Don’t fuck with Mamma Bear.

I feel Crystal beside me about to freak out, so I place my hand on her arm as she says, “You’re right; they aren’t my business. You aren’t my business, but my cousin, his other wife, is my business.” I’m afraid it’s too late because her voice continues to rise. “You had your fucking closure; you got to say goodbye to him. She didn’t.” She glares at her, but Crystal is too far gone. “She had to sit in the middle of their fucking living room and read a fucking cease and desist letter, telling her that everything they had meant nothing. That is my fucking business.”

“You done?” Samantha asks, and Crystal nods her head. “You think I had closure because I got to see him in a box? He was dead. You think just because I got his body that I got closure? You think it was easy for me to be the obedient wife and mourn by his casket when all I wanted was to tell everyone what a fucking fake he was. If you think I got the better end of the deal, that is where you’re wrong.” She stands up now. “Your cousin gets to have the time to cry and ask questions while I have to hide my pain and all my tears because I have two girls who I have to live for. I have to cry into my pillow at night so they don’t get up and ask me, “Do you miss Daddy, Mommy?” when the whole time I don’t fucking miss him, I fucking loathe him. He made a mockery out of our wedding vows. He made me look like a fucking fool. Do I have his name, yeah, but I would give it back to him. The only thing I can’t hate him for is giving me my girls.” She swallows. “When I look in their eyes, that are just like their father’s, I can’t hate him. So don’t sit there and think you know anything, when you know nothing.”