Shame, the Sequel

Author's note: I had trouble figuring out how to end Part One: Reconciliation, BTB, or kill the victim? I chose the latter but later I had an idea for a sequel. Here it is. You will probably need to read Shame, Shame, Shame first. As always, hope you enjoy.

*****

Sheila lay in her bed crying. The guilt of causing her husband Kurt to commit suicide made the consideration of her own suicide much more likely. Earlier, she had faked her own suicide attempt in an effort to play on Kurt's heartstrings. Sheila did not know he had already committed suicide himself. In her mind, he would have come to her rescue and they would be back together. Kurt would have forgiven her outrageous flirting and her knee jerk adulterous night with David when she thought Kurt was banging a pizza lady. Although she was physically fine in just a few hours, the hospital required a 72-hour observation stay for suicide attempts. She had more time to wallow in her guilt without the means to harm herself.

Towards the end of the third day, Sheila was surprised to hear she had a visitor. It was Cameron, Kurt's brother, again. "Cameron, if you've come to make me feel more guilty, forget it. I don't think I could feel worse about myself than I do right now."

Cameron smiled and spoke, "Oh, I like a good challenge. I came to bring you a couple of things: one is a newspaper from this morning and the other is this sachet to wear around your neck. The newspaper has the headline and story about Kurt's suicide. You can see from the article that you are barely given credit for his demise. The sachet contains some of the ashes for you to carry always as a reminder of your crime. The ashes are Kurt's. He, or what was left of him, was cremated yesterday. They are a symbol of what you did to your marriage." Cameron started to leave but then turned back.

"Oh yeah, you can forget about collecting any life insurance. Suicide wasn't covered in his policy, so there will be no payout. If you want to know where the rest of Kurt's ashes were scattered, good look finding out. The family doesn't want you near it."

Her crying now became hysterical. She had underestimated her ability to be hurt more. Now actively expressing the desire to commit suicide, Sheila was kept for two more weeks.

Once ready for discharge, she had to go by the billing office to finish the discharge process. Before she could tell them she couldn't pay, the clerk said, "You're ready to go. Your insurance covered most of your expenses. We'll be sending you a bill for your co-pay. I see that your previous bills are on a payment plan. We'll probably just add your latest co-pay bill to the payment plan. Is that okay?"

Sheila was shocked. Her health insurance came from her husband's work. It should have been cancelled when he died. Then she remembered how health insurance people and hospital people often took months to figure out who was to pay what. Sheila figured it might take up to a year for the billing situation to be corrected. That was fine with her. She needed the time to get her finances in order. "Okay" was her response to the clerk's question.

She went home to a cold, dark and empty house. It looked no different than the day she had deliberately overdosed, but it felt different knowing Kurt would never come through the door again. The contents of a stuffed mailbox were thrown on the kitchen table. Sheila looked at the butcher-block container of kitchen knives. She knew she now had the means to kill herself whenever she wanted. It was a puzzle to her why she had been discharged without anyone at home to watch her. Evidently, Sheila's therapist was convinced she had conquered enough of her demons to let her live alone. He had to have certified that she was no longer a danger to herself in order to be discharged. Her therapist had suggested Sheila take what she had gone through and turn it into a positive by offering to help others from making the same mistake. Sheila didn't feel confident she could help anyone else, and she hoped her therapist was right about her not hurting herself now.

After making some hot tea, Sheila sat down at the table. As she looked around, she got up and took away the chair where Kurt had usually sat. "No one will ever sit in that spot again." Then Sheila started sorting through the mail. She was glad to see no unpaid bills. Kurt had all the major bills on automatic withdrawal. The remainder amount left on her cancer-related medical bills were the exception to automatic withdrawal. Kurt had paid on them whenever he could. Since there were no 'final notices' in the stack, Sheila assumed the joint account had not run out of money even though no new funds were coming in. But then she realized that Kurt would have had a final paycheck with any leftover annual leave that would go into the account.

When Sheila looked at their joint account, she was surprised that Kurt had not taken his half of their checking or savings before he committed suicide. He must have charged his cost to stay in a motel with his credit card. That statement was not in the pile on the table. Kurt always paid off the balance each month, so Sheila assumed there would be a relatively small balance.

She was pleased there was more than enough money for her to survive for several months. She needed the time so she could find a new job. The necessity of a new job was because within the pile of mail was her pink slip from her previous job. No cause was given. Just the dismissal and notice of her final paycheck's direct deposit. She put finding a job on her to-do list. The list might as well have been titled 'The Things to Procrastinate Doing.'

There was more mail for Kurt. There were offers for extending his car warranty, the car she now imagined was a mangled mess of steel in the junk yard. There were offers for life insurance and health insurance. They sparked a few tears. He had 'won' a free meal for him and a guest just for listening to a presentation on time share opportunities. Things that were ridiculous when he was alive now seemed like cruel jokes.

Sheila felt more alone than in any other time of her life. "'Move on with your life.' If one more person gives me that advice, I'll slap their face. How can I move on? I have a wound that won't heal - a self-inflicted wound. I betrayed my husband and drove him to suicide. I have no way to earn his forgiveness this side of heaven. The wound stays open and it hurts E V E R Y S I N G L E D A Y."

The lack of need to have to do something right away allowed inertia to set in. She looked at photo albums to remember better days. There were few pictures from before the cancer she cared to look at. Those were the ugly days, i.e., her face and figure. Only her wedding pictures brought smiles to her face. She and Kurt were so happy. Then she picked up the album she had avoided - the cancer album.

Kurt put the album together for Sheila to remember her victory over cancer. She hated to see the pictures where she was even uglier than before. What she saw for the first time was Kurt. She could see the love in his eyes and the wear and tear on his mind and body. He may have suffered as much as she had, and she had shit on him. It was time to cry again.

No one called to check up on her. No neighbor came by. The only one in her family who would talk to her was her mother. She advised Sheila not to contact family members. It would take them some time to forgive her. "If you were not my daughter, I would have nothing to do with you after what you did to Kurt. Since you are my daughter, I will let you stew in your own juices before I help you. Learn from your mistakes and hope God has it in his heart to forgive you." At least she had one person who she could rely on - later.

Her therapist had told her to get out and be with other people as soon as possible. "The best way to help yourself is to help others." Sheila headed for Micah Mission, a downtown program founded by several churches that helped the homeless and some elderly people in the nearby public housing who had little or no family support. They offered food, clothing, city bus passes, counseling and health checks. They had their own church which met on Tuesdays.

After just the first day, Sheila started feeling better about her situation. She learned that other people had problems as big or bigger than hers. Memories of her own selfishness, however, added a little to the pile of shame she had already accumulated. Her life until she got a job was going to be simple: volunteer work, sleep, stay at home by herself and eat enough to stay alive. No TV, internet or social media.

The next day while she was serving a lunch meal at Micah, she saw someone in the background close to the entrance of the building. Her heart stopped beating. The man was the same height as Kurt. Although it resembled him, the man had on a cap and his face was covered with a beard. Sheila chided herself, "It couldn't be." She stopped serving and ran towards the door. Looking outside she saw no sign of the man. It shook her to the core. She convinced herself that her guilt was causing hallucinations. Sheila called her therapist who assured her that hallucinations were common in situations like hers.

Sheila seldom left the house. She ordered her groceries online and picked them up. Sheila feared meeting old friends who would offer condolences to her or worse criticism of her betrayal of Kurt. She had trouble facing herself with those issues, much less, other people. Her nights were spent watching some old movie on her DVD player.

It was worst at bedtime. That was when it became dark that she felt most afraid. She often had the sense that Kurt was somewhere near. Sometimes she would try to convince herself that Kurt was a guardian angel watching over her because of the love he once had for her. Other times she wondered if he was actually an avenging angel sent to get retribution. In either case, it took a dose of melatonin to help her sleep. She could not get a prescription for sleeping pills and Excedrin PM scared her from her botched overdose. Alcohol was avoided for fear of addiction.

The receipt of the latest life insurance advertisement became the incentive for her to take care of the postponed duties that she needed to do regarding Kurt's estate. A review of finances showed that all direct deposited funds had stopped. The joint account still had enough funds to allow her some time to take care of setting up a new payment system for the regular bills. She realized that she needed to see a lawyer. Sheila remembered the attorney's name who had prepared their wills. An appointment was made.

After being shown into the lawyer's office, he asked how he could help her. She replied, "I'm here to see what I need to do to settle my late husband's estate."

"I'm so sorry. I hadn't heard he had died. What happened?"

"I'm surprised you don't know. He committed suicide by letting a train hit him. It was in the paper."

"I can't believe I missed that. I apologize. My sincere condolences. Now as I remember, I have a copy of his will in my files. I will take a look at it, but as I remember, you are the only heir. There are no children, correct?" He saw her nod affirmatively. "Then, all I need to get started is a copy of his death certificate. Do you happen to have one with you?"

Sheila had not even thought of that. "I . . . uh . . . don't have a copy. I never got one."

"That's strange. The morticians usually make sure they get the death certificate as quickly as possible. In most cases, they need that so the surviving spouse can get the life insurance policy payment and be able to pay for the funeral. I'll give them a call. Who handled the funeral?"

"I know this sounds awful, but I don't know. I was in the hospital at the time. His family made all the arrangements. I wasn't even able to attend the funeral. His brother Cameron would know. Here's his phone number."

"You would rather I call him?"

"Yes, we aren't on good terms. He blames me for my husband's death." Tears came to Sheila's eyes as the memories threatened to overflow the dam that had been restraining her emotions.

The lawyer called. Soon after asking Cameron about Kurt's funeral, the attorney pulled the phone away from his ear quickly. Sheila could hear Cameron scream, "Fuck you and that bitch. I'm not giving her nothing." The phone was hung up soon after.

"Curious. I've never heard such a rude reaction, even when there was a family dispute over inheritance. I didn't think that would be an issue in this case. Is there some inheritance situation I should be aware of?"

"I wouldn't think so. There might be some of his personal effects his family wants, but I would be glad to give them whatever they want of his."

"Well, I'll contact the office at the capitol that handles death certificates. Just a second." He pressed the intercom button for his secretary. "Freda, run me off a copy of the authorization to request a death certificate for a Kurt Andrew Mortenson . . . "He looked at Sheila, "What day did he die?" Sheila told him and he relayed the date to his secretary. "The authorization signature will be from his wife, Sheila Jane Mortenson. Thanks. Sheila, she'll bring the form in for you to sign and then we just wait."

Sheila went home. The mention of Kurt's personal effects reminded her that she needed to do something with his stuff. She could not bring herself to throw anything away. It would be like she was trying to erase his memory. Sheila did not want to erase the memories of him. Most were all good. The memories she wanted to erase were her own stupid words and actions.

Sheila could not help but think about the time they spent together during her cancer treatment. Her guilt came in waves when she remembered. She clutched the sachet she wore around her neck and said out loud, "Forgive me, Kurt. I miss you so. I would give anything for a second chance."

Her lawyer called Sheila a couple of days after her visit to him. He told her that the state office said no death certificate for Kurt had been issued. The attorney said in such cases, it was usually the doctor who declared him dead had been too busy to sign the certificate, but in this case, he said he had also looked at the obituaries for several days after Kurt had died. An obituary would have given him the name of the funeral home or crematorium that had handled Kurt's body. There was no obituary on Kurt he could find in the newspaper's files or online. He suggested that Sheila try and contact Kurt's brother again and see if he would give her any information.

Sheila was stunned. What the hell was going on? The prospect of talking to Cameron again made her nauseous. She left Micah Mission early to go home.

Rather than put up with the hassle to put her car into the garage, she parked in the driveway. She unlocked the front door and looked inside. What she saw caused her to faint dead away.

She recovered to see a bearded Kurt sitting beside her prone body on the couch. "Am I dreaming?"

"No. It's really me. Surprise!"

Sheila started crying and grabbed Kurt for dear life. "I'm so sorry for what I did. Thank God, you're alive. I . . . " Sheila's demeanor changed radically. She started pounding on his chest with her fists. "You rotten, no-good, mother-fucking bastard, I ought to . . ."

"Kill me? You thought you had done that once before. Do you really want to feel that way again?"

"I wouldn't tell you if I did. Wait, I saw the newspaper article about your death."

"$50 down at the print shop."

"And this damn sachet of ashes I have been wearing?"

"Ashes from my grandmother's coal stove."

"But my mother . . . "

"She was the one it was hardest to convince to go along with the ruse. In the end, she came around and agreed that you needed to be taught a lesson. She did want us to make sure we didn't drive you to suicide."

"You almost did, you asshole. I thought several times of . . ."

"While you were in the mental hospital, we had the house, your car and your phone bugged. We kept track of every movement, every conversation, and almost every thought. Cameron was the one who convinced the hospital you could be discharged home. He assured them that you would be constantly supervised, and you were. One of us was always close by, just in case.

"Still we were surprised how long we were able to have you keep believing I was dead. After you talked to the lawyer about my estate, we knew it was time to resurrect me from the dead."

"That was the meanest thing you could do to a person. You . . You . . ." Sheila broke out in tears and went to hug Kurt again. "I'm sorry, so sorry." He allowed her to hug him but did not reciprocate in kind.

"Sheila, I feel satisfied now that I have made you feel the loss I felt. Now, it will be up to you as far as what you do with that knowledge. I am assuming nothing. As far as I'm concerned, we are back to my former position where we are forced to live together for financial reasons at least until your medical debts have been paid."

"You're damn right I felt the loss. It's hard for me not to hate you and Cameron both. Damn it Kurt, I really thought you were dead."

"I think you're going to have to have a better attitude if we're going to live in the same house for a while."

"You really want to live with me after what I did to you? You don't want me to leave? Are you sure?"

"No, I'm not completely sure about anything. I don't think we can settle anything if we live apart. Maybe your question should be, 'Can you afford to live by yourself - financially or emotionally?'"

Sheila fumed quite a while. Right now, I'm not sure how I feel about living together. I'm still hurting for the cruel trick you played. Well, you better lock your bedroom door at night and keep up with where the kitchen knives are at all times just to be safe." She had a grin on her face.

"So, Sheila are you agreeing we're back to sharing the same house?"

"I guess so. Wait. Does that mean the divorce is still in motion or not?"

"I put a hold on it. I can start it up again anytime you or I want. I will give you notice if I choose to do it. So, you want to flip for the master bedroom?"

"Kurt, do you really think I can put all my makeup and stuff in the small bathroom?"

"Good point. I'll take the guest bedroom."

"Sheila, aren't you the least bit happy I'm not dead?"

Sheila's mood changed again. The change was 180 degree dramatic. She said to herself, "You idiot! This is your second chance you prayed for." Her face now showed contrition. "Kurt. I could not be happier. I prayed for a second chance. I will not blow it. Again, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for everything." Tears ran down her cheeks.

"Me too. After what I've seen and heard the last few weeks, I believe you are truly sorry. Now, I hope you don't feel you have to keep saying it. I forgave you a while back. I also am sorry if I overdid your punishment. Can you forgive me?"

"Really? You want my forgiveness after all I did. But I was so selfish and disrespectful. I don't know how I could have forgotten how much you did to help me survive my cancer. I owe my life to you." Sheila reached out to hug Kurt. He hugged back.

"My forgiveness had an odd evolution, Sheila. I was so upset at you. I was sure I wanted to punish you and never have anything to do with you again. For the first time since we were married, I actually looked at other women as possible partners. To my surprise, I became aware that I would have a pretty good chance to replace you in bed, if not as a wife."

Sheila pulled herself from his embrace and asked, "You mean you've been intimate with other women?"

"No, I mean I realized how easy it could be for me to accept the appreciation of another woman. I began to realize what a temptation it must have been for you to do the same, especially after having beaten breast cancer. Not that I condone what you did, but I understand better."