I eagerly anticipated Suzie’s smile upon seeing the nursery, the meal I had prepared, and the framed pictures on the mantle. After nine lengthy months of morning sickness, back pain, and an unending round of my controlling mother’s ideas, she deserved to be happy.
It was the realization of all my dreams about us.
I rushed to Suzie’s room and waved to the nurses at the station. But I froze in shock when I pushed through the door.
Suzie had left, but my daughters had fallen asleep in their bassinets. Before I noticed the note, I assumed she had gone outside for some fresh air. With shaky hands, I ripped it open.
“Goodbye. Look after them. Find out why your mother did this to me.”
What on earth was she trying to say? Why would she? No. This was not possible. Suzie was content. She had been content. Had she not?
A nurse came into the room with a clipboard. “Good morning, sir, here’s the discharge —”
“Where’s my wife?” I cut you off.
The nurse bit her lip in hesitation. The woman left this morning. “You knew,” she said.
“She — where did she go?” I waved the note and stumbled over to the nurse. Was there anything else she said? Was she angry?
The nurse scowled. “She appeared to be alright. Just be quiet. Do you mean that you were unaware?”
I gave a headshake. “She remained silent. simply left me this message.”
With my girls in my arms and the note crumpled in my fist, I walked out of the hospital in a blur.
Suzie had left. The lady I thought I knew, my wife, my companion, had abruptly disappeared. That foreboding message, my broken plans, and two little kids were all I had.
My mother, Mandy, was waiting on the porch with a casserole dish in her hand and a big smile on her face when I pulled into the driveway. The aroma of cheesy potatoes filled the air, yet it failed to soothe the turmoil brewing within me.
“Oh, let me see my grandbabies!” she cried, putting down the plate and coming sprinting over to me. “They’re beautiful, Ben, absolutely beautiful.”
