No Need to Talk, Pt. 01: Andrew

No Need to Talk, Pt. 01: Andrew

I would like to thank Astordatair for giving me permission to write this sequel to his story, "I Needed To Talk To You." I would also like to thank those who have offered comments and constructive criticism on my previous stories.

Apologies for taking so long to get this up, but I have been very busy with life and other projects. And to make life more interesting, I just got out of the hospital after a heart attack, something I would not wish on anyone. To those who reached out, I am doing much better now, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Note to detractors: Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated. Sorry to disappoint. Well, not really...

The premise of the original story was simple - A man learns his wife is leaving him with their daughter for another man the same day he learns he has terminal brain cancer. In the original, the wife leaves for a month to be with her lover. When she returns, her husband has already passed away.

Although I enjoyed the original story, I felt it was a little too short (about 982 words), and the cheaters needed a dose of what I like to call the "Saddletramp Treatment." This story is broken into three parts. The first is from the husband's perspective, the second is from the wife's, and the third is from the perspective of the young daughter, Olivia - in my opinion, the real victim in this sad tale. I had originally planned to put the whole story in one post, but it grew a life of its own, so it will be split into three posts (Over 29,000 words total), and yes, they are all complete.

And now, the disclaimers:

For those who want to say this or that would never happen, remember this is my universe, a place where nearly anything can, and often does, happen. At least on paper... In addition:

1. Characters in this story may participate in one or more of the following: Smoking, consumption of adult (meaning, alcoholic) beverages, utterance of profanities.
2. All sexual activity is between consenting adults 18 years of age or older.
3. Statements or views uttered by the fictional characters in this story do not necessarily reflect the views or opinions of the author.

Please refer to my profile for more on my personal policy regarding comments, feedback, follows, etc. (Yes, I DO moderate comments) And please remember, this is a work of fiction, not a docu-drama...

Part 01: Andrew

My name is Andrew Coleman, and today is officially the worst day of my life. After my doctor informed me that I am dying from an inoperable brain tumor, my wife, Anne, told me she was leaving to be with her lover, an attorney named Michael, for a month-long "dream" vacation.

Considering that she works for the Simpson Law Group, I assumed she meant her boss, Michael Simpson. On top of that, she refused to let me see our eight-year-old daughter, Olivia, who she said was going with them. It would be easier on Olivia if she didn't see me before they left, Anne said.

I'm no lawyer, but not stupid, either. After Anne left the house, I called the police to report her for parental kidnapping. They came to the house and took my statement, but I had a sinking feeling that nothing would come of it.

Michael, Anne said, is a powerful lawyer with "an unbelievable network." This meant my complaint would probably end up in the shitcan, even though the officers said I would hear something within 24 hours.

It was well after midnight when I finally crashed on the couch, having heard nothing from the police. I awoke the following day with a splitting headache, partly from the tumor, and partly from the stress Anne had put me through. I called the office to let everyone know I would not be in and tried to get through the day, but it wasn't easy.

After drinking my second cup of coffee that morning, I made two more calls - one to my 70-year-old mother who now lives alone, and the second to my brother Bill. Mom sobbed when I told her my news.

"That no-good bitch," she sobbed. "How could she do that to you? And to that poor little girl. She'd better stay away from me, or I'm liable to scratch her eyes out."

"I don't know, Mom," I said. I had never heard my mother talk like that, and it heartened me a little.

"You let me know if there's anything I can do to help," she said after we had spoken for a while. "I love you, Drew," she added, using the nickname everyone on my side of the family used.

"I love you too, Mom," I told her, wiping a tear from my eye.

Bill was sad as well, and I heard his voice crack with emotion when I gave him the news. We had always been close, and I think I hurt about as much as he did.

"Damn, Drew," he said when I finished. "When it rains, it pours, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess it does."

"Look, why don't you and Mom come by the house tonight for dinner and we can talk about things? There's a lot that must be taken care of before... well, you know."

"I think that's a good idea. I'll be there. What time?" I asked.

"Make it about 6:30. I'll let Lisa know and ask if she can pick Mom up. I'm sure she'll be too emotional to drive."

"Probably right," I said. "She sounded pretty torn up when I spoke to her earlier."

"I'll see you tonight, bro," Bill said before we ended the call.

Two things happened that afternoon. I was served the divorce papers Anne promised shortly after 12:00. I looked at them briefly, and saw that Michael Simpson was noted as her attorney of record. I didn't bother with the details and stuffed the papers back in the envelope, which I tossed on the couch. About an hour later, I received a text message from an unknown number. I assumed it was Michael's since Anne left her phone on her nightstand.

My heart sank when I looked at the message, which contained a photo of Olivia, Anne, and a man I assumed was Michael. They were on a beach, somewhere, and they seemed to be having a grand old time. This, to me, was the last straw.

What kind of a sick bitch does something like this to a dying man? This wasn't kicking someone when they were down; this was pissing on their grave before they were even dead. My resolve for some revenge, even from beyond the grave, hardened like concrete.

I immediately called my long-time friend and attorney, Robert Horton. He was aghast when I told him what happened. I didn't go into any detail but rather gave him a condensed version knowing I would probably have to repeat myself.

"Andrew, I need you to gather those papers and come to my office. Right now. I'll clear my schedule. We have a lot to take care of. I'll call my private investigator, Ed Trujillo, and have him meet us here. Are you up to driving, or do you want me to send someone out?" he asked.

"I can drive, Robert," I said. "I just need to clean up first."

"Please do," Robert laughed. I knew he was just trying to lighten my mood, and I chuckled at his joke.

I was showered, shaved, dressed, and on the road within a half-hour. Before leaving, I grabbed Anne's cell phone just in case Ed could glean something from it. I got to Robert's downtown office 45 minutes later and his receptionist escorted me into Robert's inner sanctum after offering me a much-needed cup of coffee. I had spent my adult life hearing alternate versions of how coffee was good for you... and then bad for you. As far as I was concerned, the question was now moot, and I accepted it gratefully.

"You made it," Robert said when I walked into his office. We shook hands, then he introduced me to his PI, Ed Trujillo. They both listened intently as I told them what happened.

"You've been suffering headaches for a while now, haven't you?" Robert asked, concerned.

"Just short of a year," I said. "Finally got to the point where nothing helped, so I went to see my doctor about three months ago. He gave me a prescription. It took the edge off, for a couple of months. When it stopped working, he finally sent me in for some lab work. They ran a bunch of tests and looked me over before telling me I had an inoperable brain tumor.

"One of the specialists said if they had caught it even six months ago, they might've been able to do something. But it's too late now. I'm basically a dead man walking. They said I might make it another month, but that's about it." I briefly marveled about how I could say that so calmly.

"Which means you may be gone by the time Anne gets back with Olivia," Robert said sadly.

"Yeah, probably," I agreed.

"Damn," Robert hissed. "I never would've thought Anne would do something so cold to you."

"It's been pretty frosty around the house for a while," I replied. "I can only wonder how long their little office romance has been going on."

"Did you tell her you were diagnosed with terminal cancer?" Robert asked.

"I told her I was dying, but she brushed it off. Said I would survive," I told him. "I never got a chance to tell her about the tumor. She was anxious to be off and start her new life."

"That's one cold-hearted bitch," Ed gasped.

"Tell me about it," I shot back.

"Well, your diagnosis pretty much renders her divorce petition moot," Robert said. "Granted, she's leaving the house to you and wants nothing other than her personal possessions, her account, sole custody of Olivia, and retirement.

"It doesn't really matter, though. No court in this state will even touch it under these circumstances. But there are other issues that need our immediate attention. Like her taking the child out of state without your permission. Did she give any hint as to where they were going?"

"Said something about swimming in the ocean," I said. "Then I got this picture earlier this afternoon."

Robert looked at the image on my phone and winced before handing it to Ed.

"Think you can track them down, Ed?" Robert asked. "I know that picture isn't much to go on."

"Actually, there are a lot of clues in this image. I think I know where they went. And if I'm right, they're in Cancun," Ed said. "Let me send that picture to my phone. I'll print it out and blow it up. If they aren't tech-savvy, the geolocation data may be in the image file. If they are, I'll have to do some work. In that case, it will take me a couple of days to verify their location.

"If they are in Cancun, there's not much I can do personally since I can't legally operate in Mexico. However, I do have contacts and associates in the area who can keep an eye on them. It will get expensive, though."

"Money isn't a problem," I said drily. "Would $25,000 be enough to get things rolling?"

"Uh, yeah, more than enough," Ed said after putting his eyes back in his head. I wrote a check, signed it with a flourish, and handed it to him.

"I was saving it up for an anniversary cruise but that isn't going to happen now. Let me know if you need more," I said. "It's not like I'll need to save it up for my old age. By the way, I brought this in. It's Anne's cell phone. I don't know the code to unlock it, but if you can get into it, there may be something you can use, like text messages."

Ed took the phone and powered it on. Sure enough, it was locked. He turned it off and put it in his pocket.

"Yes, this will help a lot. I know people who can get past that. We'll clone it before we do anything, and I'll bring it back to Mr. Horton. So, do you want me to report to you or to Mr. Horton?" Ed asked.

"Report to me, Ed," Robert told him. "I'll take care of things from here. Mr. Coleman has enough to worry about right now."

"Sounds good," Ed said as he pocketed the check. "If there's nothing else, I'll be going. I have plenty of work to do. A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Coleman. I wish the circumstances were different."

"Yeah, me too. A pleasure meeting you as well," I replied as we shook hands. "And while you are at it, could you investigate Michael Simpson's background for me? I guess I have a morbid curiosity if he's just playing her or will marry her. Maybe he's done this before? Part of me would like to believe there aren't that many squeaky clean, saintly men whose only flaw is seducing one married woman."

Ed nodded in understanding as he stood.

"I'll be in touch as soon as I know anything," Ed told Robert as they shook hands.

"Thank you," Robert replied. After Ed left the office, Robert turned to me.

"We have a lot of territory to cover, Andrew. Are you up to that?" he asked.

"Yeah. Let's get to it," I answered. "I'd like to feel a little less helpless."

We spent the next three hours combing through my will, making numerous changes. The plan was to leave Anne with nothing while taking care of my mother and brother and leaving the lion's share of my estate in a trust for Olivia.

It was clear to both of us that Anne didn't want anything to do with me or my estate -- her divorce petition made that painfully clear. We also made certain a portion of the trust could only be used for Olivia's education with the rest available after she completed school. Robert said he would write it up in such a way that Anne would have no access to it.

While Anne knew we were in good shape financially, I was certain she had no idea just how well-off we really were. Or to be more precise, how well off I am since we kept separate bank accounts and credit cards with a third account for household expenses and monthly bills which we each contributed to.

We also discussed the various options for Olivia, especially since Anne could possibly end up behind bars. While my mother would love to have custody of Olivia, she wasn't in the best health. The only other option was Bill and Lisa. Robert made notes and decided to address that later.

"What about the business?" Robert asked, referring to my IT consultancy firm, ColeTek Enterprises. I started the company about a year before marrying Anne, and the company was doing very well. It was insulated by a prenup Robert had insisted on. Between that and my investment portfolio, I could easily have retired at age 50 if I chose to, but that obviously wouldn't happen with my medical condition.

"Empire Tech has been wanting to buy me out for quite a while," I said thoughtfully. "Maybe it's time to make that happen."

"Do you want me to handle that?" Robert asked.

"That would help a lot," I told him. "I only have three conditions. One, Anne gets nothing. Two, the employees stay, and three, I want whatever proceeds from the sale split between the employees based on years of service. Can you do that?"

"We'll make it happen. I just need you to sign the necessary power of attorney forms so I can act on you and your estate's behalf."

"Let's do it," I said.

Robert pulled out some more forms and added them to his pile, which had grown considerably since we started.

"It's going to take Sally a few days to get this done, so why don't you head on out, and I'll call you when she's finished. In the meantime, you need to see your insurance man, your stockbroker, and your banker. What do you intend to do with the house?"

"I'm not sure yet. Once I'm gone, the insurance should pay off the mortgage. Maybe I'll give it to my brother, and he can do as he sees fit. Maybe turn it into a rental or something."

"Not a bad idea," Robert said. "I'll put that in the amended will. Anne may contest that, but her divorce petition made her intentions clear."

"Good. What do you think we should do about Anne and Michael?"

"Let's see what Ed turns up," Robert replied. "Fortunately, this state has some of the toughest laws regarding parental kidnapping. Under the circumstances, she could be charged with a class D felony and get five years in prison.

"As for Simpson, he could face some tough sanctions from the State Bar. They don't like it when attorneys have sexual relations with their clients. And if he suggested taking Olivia to keep her from you, he could face conspiracy and kidnapping charges as well. He could very easily lose his license to practice law and end up behind bars.

"Frankly, I'm surprised he took her on as a client. I would have thought he'd farm this out to one of his flunkies. I've never known him to make such a huge mistake. I guess arrogance can do that to a man.

"By the way, didn't you say Anne's mother had Olivia before the trip and wouldn't take your calls?" Robert asked.

"Yes," I said.

"Why don't you talk to her - see if maybe she knew what Anne and Michael were planning? She might even know where they went. When this all started and why. Don't press too hard. Be your normal friendly self. Let me know what she says. Record it if you can."

"Good idea," I said.

"In the meantime, I know some state attorneys who might be interested in taking Simpson down a notch or two. I'll talk to them. Don't worry. They'll pay the piper for this," Robert said with a wicked smile.

"Thanks, Robert. I'm feeling better already," I said.

"Take care of yourself, old friend. I'll be in touch," Robert said before we parted ways.

Despite the never-ending headache, I felt much better about the situation when I left Robert's office. We had known each other for a long time, and I trusted him as much as I did Mom and Bill. I drove home, then crashed on the couch with a cold compress to my head, 'white noise' playing on the stereo, and as much ibuprofen as I could take without killing myself more quickly.

When I awoke, I cleaned up, changed into something casual, and drove to Bill's house. His wife, Lisa, had just returned with Mom, and I was met at the door by two distraught women. Marie, Bill's nine-year-old daughter, came into the room and gave me a hug.

"How's my favorite niece?" I asked.

She rolled her eyes comically. "I'm doing well, Uncle Drew. And you know I'm your ONLY niece," she shot back with a wide smile. "Where's Olivia and Aunt Anne?"

"They're on vacation," I told her.

"Vacation? Why didn't you go with them?" she asked.

"It's a long story, sweetheart," I said, not wanting to go into the details with her. She would learn everything soon enough.

"Why don't you go and wash up for dinner?" Bill told the young girl. After she left the room, my brother hugged me, tighter than normal. I could tell he was fighting tears. "How are you feeling?" he asked when he finally released me.

"Like crap. In more ways than one. But I'll handle it," I said, trying to put a brave face on the screwed-up situation.

"Let's have some dinner and we can talk about everything afterward. Is lasagna okay?" he asked.

"Your wife's lasagna is always okay," I replied.

"Which reminds me - I'd better go get it out of the oven before it burns," Lisa said.

We ate a hearty meal that evening, and I felt like I had gained five pounds after consuming a large portion of lasagna, salad, garlic bread, and a slice of cheesecake. Marie grabbed my hand and took me to her room to show me her latest stuffed animals.

I nearly cried watching and listening to her chatter away. She reminded me so much of Olivia. I tried to put... firmly... out of my mind what she was probably doing at that moment; maybe having dessert with Mommy and Mommy's new friend.

"All right, sweetheart. It's time to get ready for bed," Lisa said when she came into the room an hour or so later. "Say goodnight to Uncle Drew now."

"Goodnight, Uncle Drew," Marie said in her sweet voice when she hugged me. "I love you."

"I love you, too," I replied, nearly choking as I fought the urge to cry. Lisa smiled as she watched us, and I thought I saw a tear in her eye as well.

Lisa joined the rest of us in the living room after tucking Marie in bed. They sat and listened quietly as I recapped everything that had happened so far.