Chapter 4 - Natalie
Natalie died three years and four months before Lily’s sixth birthday.
The crash happened on a wet February morning.
A delivery truck crossed a median.
Natalie’s car took the impact on the driver’s side.
She died at the hospital before I arrived.
For the first year, Lily believed Mommy had:
“gone to where Grandma Jane lives.”
Grandma Jane was also dead.
We corrected gently.
Again.
Again.
Again.
At four, death is repetition.
At six, Lily understood more.
She had one photograph of Natalie beside her bed.
Another in the living room.
A small box containing:
Natalie’s necklace.
Two birthday cards.
A hospital bracelet from Lily’s birth.
Nothing about our house resembled a shrine.
Vanessa had initially respected that.
When we began dating, she asked:
“Do you think Lily will resent me?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want her to call me Mom eventually?”
“No.”
Vanessa blinked.
“Never?”
“If she chooses someday, that’s different. I’m not asking.”
She nodded.
At the time, sincerely.
Then engagement changed the meaning of roles.
Vanessa wanted a wedding photograph display.
Her parents.
My parents.
Grandparents.
She asked:
“Do we include Natalie?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s Lily’s mother.”
“This is our wedding.”
“I know.”
“We’re not honoring your marriage.”
“We’re acknowledging the person whose child is standing beside us.”
Vanessa agreed eventually.
Then several weeks later, the wedding planner sent a mock-up.
Natalie’s photograph was gone.
I assumed the planner made a mistake.
Vanessa said:
“I asked her to remove it.”
“Why?”
“Because it felt weird.”
“We discussed this.”
“I changed my mind.”
“You don’t get to change this alone.”
Vanessa became furious.
“I am the bride.”
“And I’m the groom.”
“And she’s dead, Adrian.”
The second those words left her mouth, she regretted them.
She apologized.
I accepted.
Too quickly.
Not because the sentence made her evil.
Because I should have asked what was underneath it.
Instead I labeled it wedding stress.
We ordered another memorial arrangement.
May you like
The fight passed.
Except it hadn’t.
