Tribute Tales: In Memoriam

Amy looked like I'd slapped her. "I...I didn't mean..."

"The hell you didn't. I knew this was a mistake. I just didn't realize how big...I would never have dreamed you could be so hateful. I'm sorry that you're so suddenly bothered by my happiness that you can't even find it in yourself to be polite to a stranger. I thought you'd be..." I trailed off, biting the inside of my cheek and taking deep breaths to calm down.

Amy bit her lip, a tear rolling down her cheek. "You don't understand, Chris."

"Then tell me!" I shouted. "If you have something to say to me, just fucking say it. What is it you keep avoiding? You want to tell me that you hate me? That you love me? What..." I trailed off. She had given a little shake of her head at the word 'hate,' but when I said 'you love me' her face had just collapsed. She was sobbing openly, moving backwards as if to get away from me. She stumbled and fell to her knees, and made no attempt to get up.

"Oh my god," I muttered, "you're in love with me."

She cried harder at that. John materialized from somewhere, looking furious, and crouched down next to her. She leaned in to him, and he held her as she cried.

"I didn't know," I said.

"You should go," he looked very tired.

"John, I..."

"Just leave."

So I did.

The next day I came over only to say goodbye to William. He was sorry to see me leave early, but not real sorry. Kids. Amy was nowhere to be seen. John was curt and polite. Almost apologetic, but without warmth.

After that, my relationship with Karen never had a chance. Learning about Amy's feelings had thrown me into a spiral of confusion, and being treated so coldly by the people I loved had left her feeling slighted and unwelcome in my life.

It took me three months of obsessing over this new problem before I finally found the courage to meet it head on. I offer no excuses for this.

I booked a flight back home, took two days off work so I would have a four day weekend, and decided to surprise my in-laws and have this out with them. One way or another, this had to be resolved because it was a very real threat to my friendship with them and my relationship with my son. Ugly though it may get, I had to clear the air. I squared my shoulders, did pushups with my mind, and readied for launch.

William answered the door, wearing a swimsuit and dripping water on the floor of the entryway.

"Dad!" He shouted, jumping in to hug me and drenching my shirt.

"Hey, buddy," I laughed. "Where'd all the water come from?"

"We got a pool! It's above ground, but it's big and it's way fun and Uncle John can stay underwater a long time! I only heard the doorbell cos I came in to get my watch so I can time him."

"Wow," I raised my eyebrows. "I wish I'd known. I woulda brought a suit! Are Uncle John and Aunt Amy out back, then?"

He gave me a look I could only describe as suspicious. "Why are you here?"

I was a little hurt, but I put a smile on for him. "I missed you."

He remained aloof. "I like it here."

I wasn't sure what to say, so I just said, "That's good. Now can we go say hello to Uncle John and Aunt Amy?"

When we came out the patio door, John was in the pool and Amy was standing near the edge talking to him. I was struck, as always, how like Andrea she looked. She even had on a modest red bikini that looked just like one Andrea used to have.

"Mom!" William called, running to Amy. I frowned; I didn't like him calling her that, no matter how traumatic Andrea's death had been for him.

She turned, smiling, towards his voice and froze. She saw me and put her hand to her mouth in shock.

I stared at her. Suddenly I couldn't breathe. I put my hand up to my heart. My mouth opened and closed.

She grabbed a towel off a nearby chair, but it was past too late. I'd already seen the truth.

There was no scar on her stomach.

Heaven knows what made me look for it at all. Maybe it was a reminder that this was Amy, so that I could get past the feeling of looking at my dead wife. Or maybe I was just taking in her figure the way a red blooded male does. I don't know. What I did know, suddenly and with certainty, was that the woman standing before me was Andrea.

Andrea, who was not dead. Andrea, who had let her sister take the fall.

I fell.

"Chris!" she cried, rushing towards me.

My chest was tight. I couldn't focus on anything. Even after I landed, hard, on my right arm I still had a sensation of falling.

Andrea reached out to me and I pushed her away. I heard her shouting at John, saying something about a heart attack. He was running towards the house. William was standing where I'd left him, eyes wide as saucers, mouth hanging open.

"No," I heard myself say. "Notanattack. Not anattack. Not an attack." I took deep breaths, closed my eyes, and tried to focus my thoughts. Finally, I started to gain some control. "I think I'm in shock," I told the thing that wasn't Amy. "Just leave me alone for a few minutes."

"Chris," she put her hand on my shoulder, eyes all weary compassion.

"GO!" I shouted. She jumped, and pulled away from me. John pulled her up and led her and William into the house.

I sat there for a long time, not knowing what to do. I just stared at the swimming pool, and experienced a true absence of thought. It was cathartic, so I let it be.

Some time later...maybe a half hour or more...John came out. He was dressed now, and he looked scared.

"How are you doing?" he asked cautiously.

I looked up at him without feeling. This man was not my friend. He was a thief. "Amy's dead," I said flatly.

He winced. "Yes."

"She was at my house, in my shower. Andrea was...with you?"

He looked down at the ground.

"Why?"

He didn't answer at first, just studied the ground in front of him. "I think Amy should be the one to explain it to you."

"Andrea. Amy's dead."

"She goes by Amy now." He raised his eyes to mine, and there was defiance in them. And a fear. What was he thinking? That I was going to take his family the way he took mine?

From the doorway, Andrea's voice called out. "John, let me talk to him. There's no reason for fear."

He kept his eyes locked on me. "You'd better not try to hurt her."

"Don't worry," I kept my voice neutral, "I'll come for you first."

He clenched his jaw, fingers moving apprehensively, and then turned and stormed into the house. He reached out to hug Andrea on his way by, a territorial move, but she brushed by him with an apology.

Andrea was dressed now, too. She had on khaki capris and a soft blue tank top. She was beautifully tanned from the summer, and had the first hints of new lines in the corners of her eyes. She was thirty-six now, I realized. Not dead, not gone, but not really the same person I'd mourned and missed. Two years of living behind her. Two years in her new life, of which I was a bit player.

"Why?" I said, and that one word was like a cork on a bottle of champagne. It popped out and unleashed everything. Suddenly I couldn't stop crying. "Why?!" I repeated.

Andrea was crying, too. "I'm so sorry..." she started.

"WHY?!"

She sat down and put her hands over her face. "I didn't know what else to do. When William called we didn't even begin to think it would be as bad as it was, so we didn't tell him...tell him the truth. When we found Amy we went into panic mode, and by the time we could even begin to think about how to handle the situation it was too late. The lie was bigger than the truth. I couldn't just tell the hospital and the police and William that we'd...about who had died. And it was just so chaotic. I couldn't stop crying long enough to say much of anything, so I kept telling myself I'd figure out a plan as soon as I could calm down. I tried to call you, to tell you Amy had died. I thought maybe if I did that, make that commitment to truth, then I could find a way to explain the rest of it by the time you got home. But I couldn't get ahold of you, and I kept digging myself in deeper with every step. I had to call my mom, I had to talk to you, I had to console William. And John..." she flinched at the anger that lit up my face, "...I just had no time to think and every added moment compounded it until I felt trapped. Please believe me when I say that watching you suffer and not knowing how to reach out to you or help you was worse than losing my sister could ever be. It killed me to watch your grief. But I knew that if I told you the truth it might be worse. I wanted to protect you from what you're going through right now. You thought I was dead, that damage was already done and that pain was already upon you. Tell you the truth would only add new pain, and I couldn't do that. I watched you waste away, and knew that I couldn't hurt you any more. I just couldn't."

"So you left me on my own."

"I came over as often as..."

"You left me alone. And when I started to get close to someone else you did everything you could to drive them away."

She shrugged, head hung low.

"Meanwhile, you've been living it up here with your new husband and our son. Is that the deal? You get to play wife to another man, and you get the added bonus of keeping William with you, while I live and die alone? Was that your plan?"

"No..."

"When did you tell William?"

She started crying again. "It's not like you think..."

"When?"

"He figured it out a few months ago. He was looking through a photo album and saw a picture of...of Amy...in a swimsuit. I think he'd been too young to really pay any mind to the scar, when she...when she was with us. But he realized the truth almost as quickly as you."

"Pretty fucking smart for a ten year old. How'd you get him to keep quiet?"

She shrugged again, looking away and wiping tears from her eyes. She wasn't going to answer.

I sighed. "How long were you cheating on me, Andrea?"

This started another round of sobbing. I waited. I felt no sympathy. "You have to understand," she said at last, "that until I met you I had never really experienced individuality. Amy and I seemed to share every like and dislike, every urge. When one of us liked a boy, the other one would fall for him too. It created problems for us. In high school we developed a system, and after that we were always able to handle it amicably. Until she met John, and fell in love."

"And you did, too."

She nodded. "We had our system. Rules, I guess. She found him, so I had no claim. However, after about seven months of heartbreak I confronted her. I couldn't deal with it, the jealousy and the hurt. I couldn't live with it every day of my life. I couldn't watch my sister, who had my face, look so happy with the man that I loved. So we talked it over, with John, and in the end they offered to let me switch places with Amy for one week. We all had to deal with some jealousy issues and uncomfortable talks at first, but I was just so grateful to have at least some small portion of time with this man who I...who I loved." She wouldn't look me in the eye, now, as she continued her bizarre tale. "It happened again four months later, and after that it got...easier."

I closed my eyes and shook my head.

She continued. "It was right after their wedding that I met you, and that changed everything. You see, you are the only man I have ever desired that my sister has not. You are the one thing I had that made me different from her. You were such a gift. And I loved it, and I loved you. For the next five years I was yours and yours alone."

I could see where this was going. "But you loved him more."

"No. Not more. But I still loved him. And I missed...being with him. I was very confused, and..." she blushed, but didn't elaborate. "So when your work started to take you out of town more and more I went and talked to John and Amy. And they agreed to...share with me, again." She held up her hand defensively. "But only when you were out of town. Never when you were here."

"Of course not," I snapped. "Your sister didn't want to have to sleep with me, just so you could get your fix."

She looked back at the ground. "I would never have chosen a day with John over a day with you. I never even considered being with him when you were in town. Amy would always stay at our house, so William wouldn't know what...what his mother was doing." She sniffled.

"Well, I'm glad you were able to find ways to avoid feeling guilty."

She sighed. "I always felt guilty."

"Then why keep going? Was he that much better?"

"No."

"Did you love him that much more?"

"I said no! I loved you! You, far more than him. You're still the love of my life. He knows that. It scares him." She gave me an oddly hopeful look. Ridiculous.

"How do you reconcile that love with even one of the things you've put me through, Andrea? How do you justify ANY of what you've done to me, if you love me? Hell, how could you justify doing this to someone you hated?!?"

"I can't. But...Chris, if you....I....I would come back to you in a heartbeat. I...I'd rather be with you. I've missed you so much. I just felt so trapped."

Before today, if you had asked me what I was willing to suffer or endure to get my dead wife back, I would have said anything. Now, I knew that wasn't true. I wouldn't endure this. I looked at her, and I knew I was doomed to a lifetime of looking back at this moment, and all the moments that came before it, with a brutal clarity. I stood up.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"Chris..." new tears sprung to her swollen face. "Please. I've dreamt for so long of being able to tell you the truth, of finding some way to come back to you. Please! Now we can be together, again! I know you've missed me."

I looked down at her, then around at the middle class domesticity of her little world. I had to admit, I had missed her.

And then I knew what it would take for me to take her back.

"Okay," I said flatly. "Kill John."

I've never seen fear spread so clearly across a person's face. "What did you say?" she asked.

"Kill John," I repeated. "You cheated on me. You betrayed me. You lied to me. You let me believe you were dead, and for what? To avoid having to own up to your own failure as a wife and a mother. Okay. What John did to me was just as bad. He fucked my wife, for years, behind my back. And when his wife died he said nothing. He let me believe it was my loss, not his. To protect his little world he destroyed mine. And he's been living my life, with my wife and my son, creating memories with them that I am not a part of, for two years. I don't know if I have it in me to hate you, but I sure as hell hate him. If I mean so much to you, if you want me back so badly, that you can murder your lover, I honestly and truly will be willing to try and take you back. To try and rebuild what we had."

"But...why?" she was horrified, her eyes darting like an animal looking for escape.

"Because you killed me. And he stood at your side and claimed all the benefits of that. So if you kill him, then and only then will I know that I mean at least as much to you as he does."

"That's not..."

"I'm not debating it, Andrea. And I'm not going to compromise. If John is dead, there is a future for us. If he is alive, there isn't. Anyway," I spat on the ground, "the son of a bitch should really be with his wife, don't you think?"

"You're scaring me, Chris. This isn't funny."

"I'm not joking. You don't have to do it. You can just keep living here with him. Either way, I'm taking William."

"What?!" She leapt to her feet. "You wouldn't!"

I stared at her, genuinely surprised. "Of course I'm taking him," I stated. "And there's not really anything you can do about it, AMY," I emphasized the name. "I'm his sole surviving parent unless you want to reveal to the world who you really are. And while I don't claim to know much about legalities, I imagine that doing so would get you in quite a bit of trouble. Stealing a dead woman's identity for the last two years? Forging documents, deceiving officials? How much of Andrea's life insurance money went to you and John? How much of it did you spend? Not to mention how your mother and Andrea's and Amy's friends and colleagues might take the news. Hell, it's quite a story. Crazy enough for major news agencies to pick up. And it certainly wouldn't get you custody, would it?"

She was sobbing now. "I can't believe you would do this. I don't know you anymore!"

"Sure you do. We've changed in the last two years, sure, but not that much. I'm not some mysterious monster. I'm the same man who loves you so completely that I would even forgive you for this. If you end John's life, and get away with it, then we can be together again. And you'll see that I'm still the man you loved. And I will even learn to trust you again, in time. But we cannot rebuild anything, you and I, while he's still here. I'm not telling you to do this because I want to hurt you. I'm not doing this to punish you. I'm only doing it because it's the way things have to be. And I'm not taking William to push you into it, I'm taking him because he's my son and I will not leave him here to be raised by my enemy. Not anymore." I turned and walked towards the house.

"Please don't do this to me," she sobbed. "I'd rather die."

I could see John watching us through the glass doors, no doubt wondering what we were saying. "You know I've seen that one already," I told her over my shoulder. "I didn't really like it the first time."