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ekaagnesdream
eka gvatua
United States, ca, Campbell

Words: 6403
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1 of 3

I was watching the sun come up again. The sky was the color of velvet gold; the silence was so complete that I had almost lost myself in it. I have forgotten what it is to sleep, to dream. Not so long ago I would have laughed at anyone mentioning getting up with the sunrise, but here I am.

Three years ago I was a respected man, a rich man. I had a house most folks only dream about, a three story place with large bay windows that looked out at the ocean. I had a nice, new, red Ferrari and a gorgeous, young, blond wife named Candy. I was the 'American Dream'. I had the world at my finger tips, and people wrapped around my pinky. I remember summers spent in France and Spain, winters spent in Hawaii. The endless parties, luncheons, charity balls. It seemed, life was a race and I was in the fast lane. But it is a fact well known; all good things must come to an end.

It was a nice spring noon, the sun was shinning brightly and the birds were singing. I sat up in my bed, head still pounding from the night of drinking. Candy wasn't next to me, I realized, probably off jogging or something of that nature. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and dragged my heavy body up. For a brief second everything seemed to be spinning. The whole world going around in a circle before my eyes and I had to plop back down. I put my face in my hands; maybe I should just go back to bed, call in sick, shut the blinds and disappear under the covers. Then again, maybe not. I took a deep breath and stood up again, ignoring the sickening sensation at the pit of my stomach. The walk to the bathroom took much longer then it should have, but I finally made it. Grabbing a bottle of Advil, I turned on the faucet and waited for the water to turn cold. Pills, pills all over the bathroom counter. Candy's of course, all kinds of herbal supplements, diet pills, anything that can be put into pill form, she has. I popped the Advil into my mouth and washed it down with cold water, then threw some on my face. The memories of the previous night were hazy and unreal. Some charity party that Candy signed us up for, that probably cost me and arm and a leg, but women need their entertainment.

Another splash of cold water and I'll be awake at least. I never have been a morning person, a task of getting up, showering and getting dressed, to me was tedious, even at noon. But I am straying too far from the real story, dragging it out, stalling, whatever you want to call it.

In an hour I was in my car heading down the freeway to get to my work. The radio was buzzing in incoherent conversation, no, it wasn't incoherent, it was the news, traffic report. Some lady had gotten into some crazy accident, drove herself into the highway divider. I shook my head and switched the station to music. The traffic was heavy and I cursed the damn women drivers. How can you drive into a divider? I finally arrived at the office. My secretary stared at me; I imagine something had happened last night; maybe I got into an argument with one of my partners at the firm.

'Stacy.' I nodded my head in her direction. 'Very large black coffee and please bring all my messages.'

'Yes, sir. I wasn't expecting you to come in today.' She mumbled and turned away to get my coffee as I stepped into my office. I had one of the biggest offices in the firm, being one of the senior partners; it's a perk that came with the job. Today the air in the room was slightly stale and smelled like cigarettes. I don't smoke, at least not then. I shook my head making a mental note to talk to Stacy about the cleaning crew. I just sat down when a light knock came from the door.

'Yes. Come in.' I said pulling a little away from the desk. It was Brian Mace. He was my partner, a nice guy really; I've known him for almost 20 years.

'Les'¦'

'Look, I am sorry about last night.' I offered an apologetic smile.

'Hey, it's not your fault. You had every right to be upset.' He sat down across from me and crossed his legs. 'I just wanted to check in on you'¦'

'I am alright. Just a one hell of a hangover.' Stacy came in with 2 cups of coffee and put them in front of us. She left a stack of messages on the desk and left.

'Hey, you had every right; it's not every day your wife declares in public that she is leaving you.'

'Yeah'¦wait'¦what?' I stared at him. What the hell happened last night?

'What do you mean what?' Brian stared at me in surprise. 'I'¦last night'¦don't you remember anything?'

I shook my head. Candy left me? That can't be right, she must have been joking.

'She was probably kidding.' I tried to smile. 'You know Candy. She was probably smashed and took too many of those little green pills.'

Brian looked at me uncertainly. 'Okay. I just wanted to tell you I am here for you, man. I've been through it many times.' He smiled and stood up. 'Hey, how about lunch in an hour?'

'Sure.' I smiled as he walked away and closed the door behind him. I rubbed my eyes and took a deep breath. She couldn't have, I mean she wouldn't do that to me, not in front of all those people. I picked up the phone and dialed her cell phone number.
'Hi, this is Candy. Please leave a message after the tone, thank you.' I waited for the beep. 'Hey Candy, what's going on? Brian just told me how sorry he is about us splitting up'¦Did I miss something? Call me, babe.' I hung up the phone and started looking through my messages.

'Mr. Weinhart? There are two police officers here to talk to you.' I pressed the intercom button.

'Let them in Stacy.' The door opened slowly and Stacy escorted two police officers in.

'Hello. Sit down please. Can we offer you coffee or tea perhaps?' I stood up and shook hands with them.

'No, no Mr. Weinhart, thank you. We just need to speak to you.' I motioned for them to sit down. Stacy quietly crept out and closed the door behind her.

'How may I be of service to you?' I sat down and smiled.

'Well, sir. We have some news for you.' One of the officers, obviously the older, more experienced man started. 'Candy Weinhart was your wife?' He asked taking out a small writing pad.

'Yes. What do you mean was?' I guess bad news does spread quickly.

'Well sir, I am sorry to say that Mrs. Weinhart died about hour and a half ago.'

I stood up. 'What do you mean died?'

'I am sorry to have to do this to you, but we will need you to come with us to identify the body.'

'Wait just a damn second, you are telling me my wife dies?' I just stared at them, thinking this has to be a joke.

'Sir, at about 11:45 A.M. your wife was driving on Highway 85 and to unidentifiable at this time reasons, lost the control of the car. She crashed into the highway divider'¦'

'I drove right past that on my way here.' I mumbled and closed my eyes. Maybe it's not Candy'¦ 'I am ready. I am sure this is a mistake.' They stood up and I followed suit. The door to the office opened and suddenly everything was buzzing. Stacy was standing by the coffee machine with Brian's secretary mumbling as I walked past.

I followed the cop car to the morgue. How could have this happened? If Candy really meant to leave me it was something she has been contemplating for a while, she wasn't the type for impulse decision. I guess I should tell you a little more about her. I met her four years before all this, at a party Brian and his 2nd wife dragged me to. I don't remember most of the party, it was rather dull, but I remember the first time I saw her. She walked in on the arm of some rich kid. The minute she entered the room all eyes were on her, she owned the room. I would like to tell you that I am not the type of a guy who 'swoops' another mans' woman, but that would be a lie. I mean I am a lawyer. She left the party that night hanging on my arm. A year later we were married. It was a huge ceremony, tons of people. Candy wanted to make sure all high society was present and they all were.

I pulled into the parking lot of a short, grey building and stopped the car. The policemen were waiting for me in front of door.

'This way please.' One of them held the door open for me. I was lead to a small room with large glass window looking into a lab. There on a surgical table lay a body of a woman under a white sheet. The police officer knocked on the glass and the man in a white coat nodded and removed the sheet. There on the table lay my beautiful Candy. Her skin had a gray, plastic tint to it. Her hair lay like hay around her face. I didn't realize I was holding my breath until the cop asked me something. I looked at him, his lips moved but there was no sound coming out. He took me by the arms and escorted me out.

They sat me down in the chair and gave me a glass of water. I drank, not really because I was thirsty, more because I had to keep my hands busy with something, to keep them from shaking.

'Mr. Weinhart, is that the body of your wife, Candy Weinhart?' The cop had his little notebook out again, he waited for my reply.

I nodded.

'I am sorry sir; you will need to verbally confirm this.'

'Yes.' I mumbled, the cleared my throat. 'Yes, that's Candy.'

'Thank you, sir. We are sorry for your loss. Take your time, but you are free to go.'

'Thanks.' I whispered. Everyone left and I sat alone staring at my hands. That's when it started. My hands began to shake uncontrollably, my eyes suddenly filled with tears and a sob escaped from my lips. I don't know how long I cried for, maybe minutes, maybe hours. It felt like I cried for a long, long time. Then finally and as suddenly as it came, it stopped. I took a deep breath, took out my cell phone and dialed Brian's phone number.

'Hello? Les'¦What the hell is going on? Is it true?' His voice was filled with concern and urgency.

'Brian'¦She's'¦Candy is'¦dead'¦' I mumbled into the phone.

'Where are you?'

'I'm at the morgue. I just identified her body Brian, Candy's body.'

'I'll be there in a jiffy. You shouldn't drive.' Before I could say anything he hung up the phone.

I was still sitting in the chair when a police officer brought Brian in.

'Jeez, man. I'm sorry.' He came over as I stood up and gave me a hug. 'Let's get out of here. Let's go get you a drink, on me?'

I shook my head. 'On me, you'll go broke if you pay for my drinks right now.'
We walked out of the building. As the door closed behind me, the image of Candy's body flashed in my mind.

'So, where do you want to go?' Brian asked as we got into the car.

'Anywhere close and serves hard liquor.' Was all I said and fastened my seat belt.

It took only 10 minutes to get to 'The Blue Feather.' It was a little hole in the wall dive. I don't know why they named a bar Blue feather, but the name seemed very appropriate once you were inside.

'I'll have coffee. Les?' The bartender started pouring Brian's coffee while he waited for my reply.

'Vodka straight and keep it coming.' I handed him my credit card. He nodded and poured my drink. 'Brian, what happened last night?'

'You mean you really don't remember?' He asked and took a sip of his coffee.

'I swear to you, I really don't.'

'Well, right before the party broke up, Candy got up to speak. She thanked everyone for coming and said this was the last time she would be throwing a party of this magnitude. Then she turned and looked at you, smiled and said it's over.' Brian shrugged his shoulders. 'I didn't know you guys were having problems.'

'Me neither. Maybe she was talking about the party?' I looked up from my glass hopefully. I could see pity in Brian's eyes. I don't know how that guy ever became a lawyer; his eyes gave him away, always.

'I am sorry.'

'Oh, well'¦I mean what difference does it make now, right?' I know my voice was bitter and I didn't try to conceal it. 'I just can't believe it.'

'Hey man, women are'¦I mean I've been through it three times already. They love you then they take your money and run.' He downed his coffee and motioned for the bar tender. 'Give me a beer.'


'I mean, you know Candy. She doesn't do the whole spur of the moment thing. She thinks everything out. And she loved me you know, really loved me.'

'Hey, couples have problems. I mean look at me and Barbara.'

Barbara was Brian's first wife. Truly an amazing woman. Brian met her when we were still in school. To be honest with you I don't know what happened. They seemed like a great couple. Bought their first house together and matching cars and a dog. Then suddenly one day Brian was divorced.

'I don't know what happened with you and Barbara.' I answered simply.

'I'll tell you what happened. Everything was great right? We are doing well, we got a house and you and I were just starting the firm and then, BAM! She wants a baby! A baby!' He smiled and shook his head.

I just stared. 'A baby? You divorced your wife, the only woman I know who was able to put up with your bull, because she wanted a baby? There is something wrong with that picture.' I finished my drink and lifted my glass. The bartender poured me another.

'Not just a baby! That's just it though. She wanted a family, a real one. I just wasn't ready.' He took a swing of his beer. I shook my head in disbelief. Candy never wanted kids, I did. You know pass the firm down and all that jazz. She never told me she wanted a family and I never pressed her to be the mother of my offspring. We were content just to be two. Well, at least I was content, obviously she wasn't.

Brian was still nursing his beer, while I poured as much vodka as possible down my throat. It wasn't till my 4th shot that I started to feel it.

'I mean, who the hell does she think she is, just leaving me like that? Not even tell me when we are alone, you know, in front the whole damn'¦people'¦ (Hiccup)' That's just rude.' I waved my hand to get more.

The bartender came up to me. 'Actually sir, I will have to ask you for a different card. It is our policy to run the credit card every five drinks and unfortunately your card was denied.' He handed me my visa and waited.

'What? What do you mean denied?' I was on my feet. 'Do you know who I am?' I shouted.

The bartender looked at me completely unmoved by my out burst. 'No, I don't. I also don't really care. I do need another card.'

'You want another card? Here!' I threw a couple of cards from my wallet.

The bartender left, but only for a moment. A minute later he came back shaking his head.

'You are an idiot. That's the problem, not the cards.' My voice rising.

A bouncer started moving in our direction. Brian was on his feet, pushing me into the chair.

'Here use this one.' He handed the bartender a card and grabbed me. 'Calm down. Are you broke?'

'Of course not. He is just a moron.' I yelled the last part to make sure he heard me. All the eyes were on me, but what did I care?

'Let's go, I'll take you home and have your car towed to your place.'

'Yeah. I don't want to drink in this stupid bar anyway!' I stood up unsteadily. 'I don't want to go home. There is nothing to go home to.' I stumbled to the door and hailed a cab.

'Wait a minute!' Brian said and went to take his card, by the time he came out; I was already getting into the taxi. 'Les, will you just hold on. I'll take you anywhere you want to go.'

'She is gone, Brian. She is really dead.' I looked down at my hands.

'I know. I'm sorry.' Brian whispered and closed the car door. He walked around to the front and talked to the driver, then slipped him money. 'Look takes tomorrow off, take a week off, a month, however long you need.'

I nodded my head. The cab pulled way.


It was a long, dreary drive home. It started to drizzle for some reason. I remember it being a rather nice day. The cabby was quite, but the slow wailing of a jazz song got to me and I cried for the second time that day. I have been so clueless about my own life. I guess there comes a time when you get settled in, get so comfortable with your surroundings that you become blind to anything out of ordinary. I have been very loyal to Candy. In the last four years I have been happy, comfortable. I let my guard down. Some of you may think, how can you live with someone, love someone and not know that you are about to lose them. I wish I could tell you the answer to that one.

The cabby woke me up when we got to the house. I crawled out and stumbled to the door. I didn't even bother to turn the light on, just walked unsteadily up the stairs and to the bedroom. The clock on the side table blinked 2:00 A.M. I took of my jacket, collapsed on to the bed and closed my eyes. Candy's dead body lying on the surgical table kept flashing in my dream, cold and distant. Has she been like that when she was alive? I never thought about it until now. She wasn't a dreamer, she was a logical, practical woman, which was the reason I fell in love with her in the first place. She didn't look for 'the knight in shining armor' in me, she looked for the hard, practical man, who could stand his own. Maybe it was me, maybe I was too hard, too cold and distant. I drink, not a lot, well maybe a lot, but only socially. I am not an alcoholic. I never drink alone. Maybe it was me.

The phone ring woke me up. The clock showed 8:30 A.M.
'Hello?' I answered. My mouth felt cottony and dry.
'Mr. Weinhart, this is Detective McNeal. I am sorry to have to bother you so early but there have been a few things that came up in the investigation of your wife's death I need to speak to you about.'
'Hhm.' I cleared my throat. A detective. 'Of course, Detective. Should I come down to the station?'
'Please.' His voice was polite but neutral. For him, I am sure this was something that happened everyday. 'Just ask for me at the front desk. McNeal in homicide.'
'Homicide? I am sorry detective there must be some mistake, my wife died in an accident.' I rubbed my forehead. Homicide? What is my life turning into?
'We will discuss all the details when you get here.'
'Alright I'll be there with in the hour. Thank you.' I hung up the phone. Homicide. Homicide. Homicide. Candy didn't have an accident. Homicide. That word keeps echoing in my mind as I washed my face and changed my clothes. It wasn't an accident. That means someone hurt her on purpose.

I came down stairs and opened the front door. I forgot that my car was not here, shit. I can't call him back. What will the neighbors think if a police car came to pick me up right after Candy's death? I walked back inside and called a cab. As I waited to be picked up I went to the liquor cabinet in the living room. We always had an extensive wet bar for those unexpected guests. Candy said it wouldn't be proper not to, so she always stocked up with best whisky and a variety of wines. I grabbed a bottle of whiskey and poured myself a drink. I realized, as I took a sip, that it was a first time in long time; I was in my house alone. I walked around the living room, taking in every inch of the space. When we moved in together Candy hired a decorator. She said that in order to be happy in life you have to live in a certain luxury. It cost almost 100,000 to have the whole house redecorated, but it made her happy. Everything was in complete order; everything had its own place. The doorbell rang and I finished my drink in a single gulp.


The traffic was pretty light and we got to the police station in 15 minutes. I paid the driver in cash and left him a hefty tip. The station, however, was busy. I never realized that the city was so infested with criminals, I thought to myself as a cop lead a large, handcuffed man, covered in tattoos past me.

'I am here to see Detective McNeal. He is in'¦hm'¦homicide.' I said to the pretty, petite officer that sat in the front.
'Name please?' She didn't even look up at me.
'Weinhart. Les Weinhart.'
'Have a seat. I'll let him know you are here.' She pointed to the row of chairs against the back wall. There was only one empty chair, between an old woman and the same large, cuffed man covered in tattoos. I sat down and crossed my legs.
'I don't know why they want to take my cat.' Said the old woman.
'Pardon me?' I mumbled.
'He didn't do anything, you know. He was with me the whole time.' She said loud enough for two police officers that walked by to hear. They looked over at her, snickered and kept walking.
'Hm.'
'Don't pay any attention to her.' Said the man next to me. 'She's crazy. She come in here all the time claiming that her cat didn't commit some murder. Isn't that right, Mrs. Finser?'
'Don't talk to me you scum. My cat is innocent I tell you.' She shouted. Then leaning over me she whispered. 'You did it. I know you did, you scum.'
'See what I mean.' He smiled revealing several missing teeth. I smiled uncertainly.
'Mr. Weinhart?'
'YES!' I jumped out of my seat and walked as fast as I could to the man who just called my name.
'Detective McNeal.' He said as I shook his hand. 'I hope you weren't too frightened by our two residence. Mrs. Finser, while she has completely lost it is quite harmless. I think she gets a bit lonely and comes here. Wayne, well, he only looks threatening.' He smiled. 'Please this way.'

We walked past the rows of desks. Some cops were in uniform, others in suits. There was a number of, well, out of lack of a more subtle word, hookers eyeing me as we walked to the desk, one even grabbed my butt, then winked at me when I jumped in surprise.

'Mr. Weinhart, I want to be completely frank with you if I may?' McNeal said as he sat down and pointed to the chair across from him.

'Please, do. I have no idea what is going on. I was under the impression that my wife dies in an accident.' I sat down and crossed my legs.

'I want to know, Mr. Weinhart, if you had any intention of leaving the country in next few weeks?' He took out his notebook and let his hands rest on top of it.

'Detective, I am sure you are well aware that I am a senior partner in one of the largest law offices of our fair city. I don't have the ability to take off whenever the mood sways me. Please, what is this about?'

McNeal eyes me then put down his pen and crossed his fingers. 'We found that your wife's death was most likely not accidental.' He waited for my reply, then after a long pause he continued. 'It seems that her breaks were tempered with, before the accident.' Another silent pause before he continued. 'Can you explain to me, Mr. Weinhart, why in the last 6 months you have been slowly transferring money not only from your personal, but also from your business accounts to an unnumbered account overseas?' He tapped his fingers on the desk waiting for me to say something.

'Wait a second'¦' It finally dawned on me. 'Wait a goddamn minute. What are you talking about? What overseas account? Who tempered with her breaks? That car was brand new'¦'

'So what you are saying is that you had no idea that you were transferring money from the two accounts into one overseas?' He looked at me uncertainly.

'I have no idea what you are talking about. Can we go back here?' I wasn't hearing this.

'Due to the unusual circumstances of your wife's death we had to look into certain'¦aspects of your life'¦'

'Like my bank account? What'¦' I suddenly saw a clearer picture. 'I am a suspect in your investigation? I am telling you this has to be a mistake. Maybe the brakes were damaged in the accident?'

'Mr. Weinhart, you are an attorney. You know that if there was a slightest chance that it was only an accident, we wouldn't be here.'

My shoulders slumped. How much worse can this get? My life, my perfect life has suddenly and unexpectedly been turned upside down. My wife was murdered. My money has disappeared.

'I have an accountant. Before making any major transactions, I talk to him. He can tell you.' I rubbed my eyes.

'How about some coffee?' McNeal stood up and went to the coffee machine before I could answer. God'¦why? Why me? I should call Brian, I should call my accountant. McNeal set the coffee down in front of me.

'Thank you.' I mumbled. 'I am sorry, detective. It's just so difficult to accept that someone would murder my wife.'

'Mr. Weinhart, I understand that your wife had filed for divorce two months ago'¦'
'Two months?' I looked up at him from my coffee cup. Two months, so it wasn't spur of the moment. Why didn't she tell me? If she wanted divorce all she had to do was tell me.

'I assumed you knew that.' He looked at me. His eyes seemed to say: 'What kind of moron would you have to be not to know?'

'Detective, I only found out that my wife intended on leaving me.'

'Hmm.' He said uncertainly. 'But the fact remains that you are the prime suspect in this investigation'¦'

'Suspect?! What?! Wait a minute'¦' I stood up, knocking my chair back. Everyone turned their heads in our direction. How can this be happening? How can this be happening to ME?! How could she do this to me? What did I do to deserve this?

'Mr. Weinhart. Please sit down.' I pulled my chair back up and did as I was told. 'You are not under arrest yet. If there is anything you wish to tell me, anything you want to get off your chest now is the time.'

'You can't be seriously considering me as a suspect. I love my wife, I always loved her. If she wanted divorce all he had to do was ask!' I rubbed my forehead.

'Mr. Weinhart, I am trying to be honest with you. You will be the it man here, because all the evidence point to you.'

How could I explain to him that I didn't even know she left me until the morning after? How can I explain to him that I didn't even see it coming? How can I explain anything without sounding like a complete asshole? I am a prime suspect in a murder investigation, according to them someone stole all of my money and I could feel the migraine starting to set in to top everything off. It must have been my fault, must have been something I have done, but what?

'I am sorry, detective. I don't know what to say. I really did love my wife, loved her deeply, otherwise she would have never been my wife and I didn't murder her.' I stood up. 'If I am not under arrest, am I free to leave?'

McNeal stood up too and shrugged his shoulders. 'Yes, you are free to go for now. I will call you in if I'¦'

'Yes, thank you. I will not leave town or the country.' I shook his hand. I walked through the station and out to the steps in a daze. I hailed a cab, got in and gave him the address at the office. Two months ago? How could I have been so blind?

I went home. Just like Brian said, my car was sitting in the driveway. I realized today how much we take for granted. Take Brian for example. I have know him for 20 years, if I had to say who my best friend is I would say it's him, yet in all this time, I really don't know him. I didn't know that Barbara left him because she wanted a baby. 20 years and I don't really know the guy. We went to school together, me and him. From junior high to high school to college. I do remember him when we were kids, he always had the girls, but we grew up. I mean we really did grow up. Brian has been married four times now. Each time his wives get younger, his house gets bigger and his cars more high tech. I walked over to the bar again and poured a whiskey. I don't know if we would have become lawyers if we weren't friends. I picked up my cell phone and dialed his number.

'Hello?'
'Hey Bri'¦'
'Bri? You haven't called me Bri since 8th grade. What's up?'
I plopped on to the couch with my drink in my hand. 'Twenty years, we have been friends. I didn't even know why Barbara left you. Twenty years. There was a time when we would hang and just shoot the shit, now look at us'¦' I took a large gulp of my drink. 'We have become part of the scenery. No one gives two shits about us anymore.' I could hear the door close on the other line.
'Les, our client give a shit'¦' I could see his face in my mind, suddenly serious, sitting at his desk, wondering if this is all too much for me, wondering if I snapped how much I've had to drink.
I smiled. 'Much going on at the office today?' There was a pause, slight hesitation.
'Not really. Was your car dropped of?'
'Yeah. They dropped it off.' I took another gulp.
'What is it?'
'They think Candy was murdered.' I took another gulp, feeling the liquid burn my throat a little. 'They think I did it.'
'Jesus, Les. Why didn't you tell me'¦?'
'Bri, someone has been transferring money from all of my accounts and I don't know where it is. She filled for divorce two months ago. Can you believe that? '
'I knew she filled for divorce.' He blurted out.
'What?! Why didn't you tell me? How could you not tell me?' I stood up. The glass fell from my hand and shattered on the hardwood floor. 'When did you know?' I shouted.
'Candy told Liz about a month ago. I didn't want to say anything because I figured she changed her mind.'
'Changed her mind? She was leaving me. She filed for divorce, how could you not tell me?'
'I am sorry Les, you know women. They can't make up their mind about anything. If I though for even a single moment that she was really going to leave you I would have told you. I swear it.'
'Oh, Brian.' I sat on the couch and let the phone drop. I cried again. Right there in broad day light for everyone to see, I cried. The tears kept coming. I felt like a fool. I wonder how many people knew, knew that she was leaving me, and knew that she would break my soul if she did. I though back to my parents. When I was a kid we had a very strict family. Both my parents were from the 'old country'. Survivors of the holocaust who ran to the US they second they could. They never showed affection to each other, at least not in front of me. Cold, orderly and honest, that describes them to the T. I didn't have siblings, an only child and a boy at that. But I was never treated special. My father was there to teach me to ride a bike, and my mother was there to clean my scrapes after I fell of the bike. I was never sure if the even liked each other. After college, I moved out. I went to their house for all the holidays, but spent as little time with them as possible. I hated being around them, be civilly content, never too loud, never too aggressive, never too much of anything. Last year my dad died of cancer, mom sold the house and went back to the old country.
'Les,' she said to me before boarding her plane, 'Your father loved you.'
I rolled my eyes. 'Yeah, ok ma. Have a nice trip.'
She grabbed me by the jacket and pulled me to her. 'Don't you roll your eyes at me. He loved you more then you will ever know. Everything he did in life he did for you, only for you. You have always been blind.' She yelled at me in Hebrew. I could see the tears in her eyes.
'Yeah ma. He loved me, ok. What about you, huh? Did he love you? I've never even seen you hug!'
My mother slapped me hard across the face, for the first time ever, then turned around and walked away. She turned only once when she reached the gate.
'You can only dream about being half the man your father was.' With that she turned away from me. I sent her a mother's day card and a Christmas card and some extra money for her birthday, but I only got one letter from her in that entire year.
This is all leading somewhere, I promise. In that letter she wrote me to look around me, look at what I had become. My father was a great man, she said, a man who took care of his family. He loved her, he saved her life, she wrote. 'What have you accomplished? You have no family. That wife of your is not even a proper woman for Christ sake. You have no children to share life with, love and care for. You know nothing of love. I love you, my son, but now I pity you more.'

I didn't write to her after that, not even cards. What the hell did she know? I kept thinking, who the hell does she think she is?

Now I see how right she was. I have become as cold and distant as my father was toward me. I picked up the phone and dialed my mother's number. There is about a twelve hour difference in time, but it wasn't too late. The phone rang twice and half way through the third ring I heard my mothers' sleepy voice.

'Allo?'
'Did I wake you?'
'Les? Do you know what time it is?'
'I'm sorry, ma.'
'Is everything alright?'
'No, ma.'
'She left you didn't she?'
'Oh, mom...' And
'Well, I don't want to say this, but I did warn you. She was no good for you'¦' she sighed.
'Mom, she's gone'¦ she's really gone.'
'Honey, what are you talking about?' I could hear the soft rustling of the sheets in the background, I knew she was up.
'Candy, mom, she's dead.'
'Oh, my god! What do you mean? What are you talking about?"

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