I had heard her stories, the long, crying bouts that announced the beginning of the end of a relationship. My heart went out to her. She had two personas: the vivacious, alive woman who laughed and kidded around with us and especially Christie; the slight, burdened woman who came and dumped her soul at our door. The three of us talked together, she spent a lot of time with Christie, and she began to spend more and more time talking with me. Her life with John had begun with such promise that slowly dissipated with each day. Now it was but a shell of a marriage from her perspective. She reached out to me for friendship, companionship, attention. I was happy to give, then realized it was slowly becoming something more. The talks became more intimate, the looks longer and touched with hidden meanings. It became difficult at times for the three of us to be together. Christie seemed oblivious, unsuspecting but I was constantly thinking Stephanie and I were being as obvious as could be, with long looks behind Christie’s back, the slight touching of hands as we passed. We began to meet from time to time at her house. I had already crossed some invisible line by being there on less than pure instincts. I crossed the line more and more as we began to talk, touch, laugh, kid, and kiss. She turned her full attention to me. She was a formidable woman. It was a heady feeling. I had never known a woman who was as aggressive as she was in those days. She knew what she wanted and she was determined to have it. I knew my choices. I chose this. It wasn’t something forced on me. I took each step toward intimacy knowing it was wrong but unwilling to stop myself.
Then one day Christie called me complaining of a headache that wouldn’t quit. As the days and weeks passed, her continued complaints led us to see first our family doctor, then a specialist. It was then that the awful truth began to unfurl.
Stephanie and I were both devastated, both by what was happening to our closest friend and what we had done together. The guilt I had felt before was but an inkling of what I would feel over those coming months.
THREE
The first week of March brought an unexpected surprise. Faith showed up on my doorstep. I followed her into the house, closing the door behind us. In the great room, she turned and smiled. “I’m Miss March. The group has decided that one of us would check in on you each month, help you with errands or tasks, maybe get in a meal or two.”
What a nice surprise! I was flattered that they would care enough to check in with me. It also would give me a chance to get to know each of them a little more. “I accept!”
“What would you like to get done this month?”
We sat down in the great room and made a list. It turned out our math major was also a financial wizard. With my permission she delved into our finances. She came back in a few days with some news.
“You filed the death claim with her insurance through the school district but you haven’t filed for survivor benefits with her pension plan. As well, you took out mortgage insurance on the house when you purchased it. A copy of the death certificate needs to go to them so that they will fund your mortgage and you’ll get the title. With the insurance money and with a house that’s paid for you are in pretty good financial shape.”
I had completely forgotten about the mortgage insurance. We had taken it out when we closed on the house and the payment was in the monthly check we sent for the mortgage.
“Everything else looks good financially. You need to save more for your IRA and retirement account. I’d suggest investing a little more aggressively. You’re still young and can take the risk.”