My husband collapsed and died on our wedding day. I planned his funeral, buried him, and spent a week trying to survive the pain. Then I got on a bus to leave the city… and the man I had buried sat next to me and whispered, “Don’t shout. You need to know the whole truth.”
Karl and I were together four years before we got married. I thought I had learned everything important about him during that time. There was only one piece missing: his family.
Every time I asked about them, he closed in band. “They are complicated.”
“Complicated how?”
He let out a short, graceless laughter. “The rich are complicated.”
That’s where the conversation’s over.
There was only one piece missing: his family.
Karl did not keep in touch with them and never talked about them.
Even so, things were slipping away.
***
One night, we were dining at our little kitchen table when Karl left the fork and sighed.
“Have you ever thought about how different life could be with more money?”
“Sure. In this economy, even a 50-dollar increase would be incredible.”
He shook his head. “I mean real money. Of the type that buys freedom: never check the balance before making the purchase, travel whenever you want, start a business without asking if it will ruin you.”
Things were slipping away.
I smiled. “You sound like you’re planning a scam.”
“I’m serious.”
I left the fork on the floor. “Okay, really … that sounds good, but right now we do well, and as long as I have you, I’m happy.”
Karl looked at me then and his face softened. “You are right. As long as we are together and do not have to answer to anyone else, everything will be fine.”
I should have asked more questions, but I thought I’d end up trusting me if I was patient.
“You sound like you’re planning a scam.”
***
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