Bathtub

She used her finger to scrape the last bits of peanut butter out of the jar and divided the smear amongst two slices of toast. Thank god neither of the twins is allergic, she thought to herself. She really couldn’t afford another breakfast option. She called up the stairs once more and finally heard the dull thud of a child leaving its bed. Then another one. It was now safe to grind coffee and not end up with two grumpy little beasts, startled by her morning fix. She heard their hooves stampede towards the kitchen and laid two mismatched plates on the table.

“Can I have some juice?” was the first thing her daughter asked before her rear even hit the chair.

“Me too?” her son pleads.

But they didn’t have any juice. Or any milk. Not until she deposited her paycheck in three days. Until then, the best she could do was stir a spoonful of sugar into their glasses of water and give them a desperate smile.

Once they were off to school and out of sight, she slunk down into the ripped sofa and buried her face in her hands. She knew she had to talk to them about their father, and that they would have questions. They were just too young to understand the honest answers to these questions, and it was getting harder to fabricate anything positive or kid-friendly for them to digest. They had never met him, and now they never would; his family called earlier that week to announce that he had been found in a hotel bathtub, and that it wasn’t an accident. There was a note and a funeral, but there was no explanation. She knew he was a coward for leaving a pregnant woman alone while he slung his music in dive bars and dodged phone calls, but this was a whole new low.

She used a rusty pair of pliers to turn the busted hot water knob and run a shower. The constant dripping left stains like stalactites hanging over the drain. While looking for a clean towel she glared at the canvas bag tucked away in the upper corner of the closet. It was his, and she stashed away every bit of him she had left inside of it. His favorite band t-shirt, his little black notebook filled with lyrics he wrote about her, ultrasounds with baby name suggestions he scribbled on the back. There were years of romance that had been condensed into just a handful of Polaroids up in that bag, and she refused to look at any them since he disappeared and she went into labor. She didn’t hate him; she hate that he left. And she hated herself for feeling that way when she should know better.

Once she stepped into the tub she began to feel nauseous. She wanted to feel nothing, except it was never that easy for her. She kept her head under the running water hoping to silence her thoughts and surroundings but received no comfort. She imagined him in that bathroom and contemplated his last moments, wondering if he gave any thought to her and their two children before taking his life. She heard the faint and distorted ring of the landline and surfaced. His mother left another voicemail about the services and requested her presence. Not because the family wanted her there or because it was what he would have wanted, but because the lawyer needed to speak with her.

There was about an hour and a half in between picking up the kids and starting her shift at the beauty supply store, and she hoped it was enough time to walk over to the secondhand shop to find something that resembled a dress fit for the occasion. As long as it fit and it wasn’t white, she figured it would do. She let her children wander off to the toy section and browsed the rack of women’s formal wear. She couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed that her last ten dollars was being spent on an article of clothing she’d only wear once instead of on her family. He wouldn’t even see it on her, but she still felt embarrassed. After quickly skimming the limited options, she snatched a suitable garment off of the rack and went to find the twins. They found something too; a taped-up board game they hoped to take home. It broke her heart every time she couldn’t give them something they wanted. But like their father and his whereabouts, explaining their financial situation was another thing they just wouldn’t understand.

The rest of the week was a blur and she found herself in the church parking lot before she was able to process any of her feelings about it or speak to the twins. One of the safety pins keeping the dress from opening up had come undone and she decided to leave it, hoping the sharp poke would remind her that this was reality. She walked right past his family and the various bouquets and stood before the open casket, feeling her legs shake and the sweat begin to form on her body. She looked down at his face and gasped; even dead he took her breath away.

She woke up on a sticky leather couch with a cloth on her forehead, and his mother staring at her from the other side of the room. “You fainted.” she scoffed. “His lawyer has been waiting to speak to you.” There in the opposite corner was a man in a crisp suit with a lot more poise than she had. He cleared his throat and opened the briefcase on his lap. Before emptying any of its contents, he asked for the deceased’s mother to give them a moment alone. The woman rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to say something smug or upsetting, but ultimately decided to make her exit in silence instead. This wasn't about her. When the door closed, the lawyer pulled out a plastic bag holding a piece of lined notebook paper and handed it over.

Forgive me, Kate. I wasn’t ready for them, for you, for us. I could be so cruel and selfish sometimes, and you deserved neither. I hope they’re more like you and that your light has not faded. Please accept what I am leaving - I know how stubborn you can be. I wish I could have given you all so much more. I loved you every day since the first.

Teardrops fell on the navy-blue thrift store dress and she brought the note to her chest. The man across from her tried to be patient but he was here on business and kept looking at his watch. He stood up with his briefcase and placed a smaller piece of paper next to her on the sofa before walking out. Whatever it was couldn’t be as valuable as this one to her. She grabbed it off of the seat, crinkled it up, and stuffed it in her coat pocket without even looking at it. Then she wiped her eyes on her coat sleeve and left the church, avoiding his mother and all of her questions. She wasn’t too upset about never seeing that woman again.

She got home and relieved the babysitter just as their bath was ending. One by one she pulled the kids out of the tub and wrapped them in towels, making her coat and dress damp. Their clean smell and warmth were so comforting to her, especially after such a painful day. Her mattress became a nest for the three of them, and the baby birds requested a bedtime story. She waited all day for this moment, and to finally give them the two lollipops she received from the bank teller that morning. She pulled out the treats and as she did, the crumpled paper from the lawyer landed on the bed beside her. The twins peeled off the wrappers excitedly and jammed the sugary sticks into their mouths while their mother flattened out the paper to decipher its meaning. It was a check in her name for $20,000.

“What is it mama?” the little boy asked with a puzzled expression.

With a tearful smile she answered, “It’s a gift from your dad.”