Delayed Retribution

a no narrative story

*

The first three years of my marriage were great. The next eight years were okay, and the last eight were miserable. There was no good reason why I put up with it. I don't know if it was because I was hoping that things would get better, or if it was because I was just too damn lethargic.

Marsha and I were married right out of high school. I laid bricks, and she waited tables, and we made it work; at least for the first two years. The next year things changed and I didn't even know it. Of course I knew she was pregnant, and of course I thought it was mine. If fact I didn't find out the my daughter wasn't mine until eight years later.

As Claire grew up, the relationship between Marsha and I deteriorated. It wasn't a sudden thing or a specify thing. Just a slow eroding away.

Marsha stopped working when Claire was born. I was making enough to keep us comfortable, but not in high style. What I didn't notice right away was that Marsha and Claire always seemed to have new stylish wardrobes. She never spent an excessive amount of money out of the household funds on personal items, but they were always well dressed. I noticed it, but I never mentioned it to her.

When Claire was young, we seemed to get along great, but as she got older she started to become a bit surly. I mentioned it to Marsha and she just blew it off. At that point I realized that Claire was becoming just like her mother.

Our personal relationship was fading rapidly. Our sex life had gone down to almost non-existent. I no longer initiated sex, but did respond if she did. I took what I could get, but it was all a bit cold.

I had quietly been putting money aside so that we could buy a house. As things changed, I lost interest. I stashed the money away in a safe place, and continued to add to it.

=======

Claire's tenth birthday was coming up, so I knocked off early at work and went across town to try and find a birthday present for her. There was a small city park across the street. It was in the business district; an area that I very seldom visited. Marsha was in the park sitting at one of the benches with an older man in a suit. Between them sat Claire with a big smile on her face.

Now things were beginning to make sense.

I ducked into a coffee shop, grabbed a seat by the window, and I watched them for close to an hour. They were laughing and chatting just like a family. We never did that any more. They all stood up and hugged. The stranger gave Marsha a kiss on the cheek and waved good bye as he crossed the street. I followed him a short way until he enter the Barclay Building.

Malcolm Eugene Foote was a financial advisor who had a small office on the third floor of the Barclay Building. That was all I needed to know at the moment.

Up until this time, I had made every effort to be pleasant and congenial at home. I brought Marsha flowers occasionally and little presents for no reason. Now, I became indifferent. I mentioned to Marsha that I was having trouble sleeping because of a back problem I suddenly developed. I got a new mattress and moved into the spare room. Marsha did not protest.

Claire's birthday came and went. I did not get her a present and she did not seem to bothered by it. In fact it was never mentioned. My work days got longer. I was out of the house early in the morning and got home well after supper time in the evening. Marsha mentioned it a few times and then dropped it. She continued to keep the house normal for her and Claire. They sort of modified their life around me and my absences. It was never discussed. She did continue to do my laundry and keep the room up. On the weekends, I took care of the yard work and any house maintenance that was necessary. All the bills got paid as usual. They seemed to be doing just fine without me.

The extra hours that I worked gave me more money to add to my stash. I had meals with Marsha and Claire on the weekends, but they were quiet and somber. It was never discussed.

=======

The misery lasted for eight years. I did not know when or where Marsha and Claire met with Malcolm again. I didn't care. It didn't matter. And then it happened.

I got back from work late one night. Marsha and Claire were sitting around being sort of weepy. I stopped in the kitchen and grabbed a quick beer before heading for my room. The local newspaper was laying on the kitchen table turned to the classified ads. That was odd, so I pulled the paper over and looked a bit closer. Surprise! Surprise!

There in the obituaries was a listing for Malcolm Eugene Foote. It appeared that he had no living relatives. The funeral was being handled by Universal Crematory Service Chapel, and the estate was being settled by William Estes and Sons.

======

Seymour Schlamp and I graduated from high school together. He went to Dickerson and I didn't. He was a mediocre lawyer and I was a brick mason. We were buds.

Time was of the essence! I always wanted to say that.

I explained the entire situation to Seymour. I did not have any proof that Malcolm was Claire's father. It was just a hunch that I had that spurred me forward. If Malcolm had no immediate family and he had an estate of any size, he would have to leave it to somebody. Seymour thought that it would be a fun project.

We decided on a child support approach. Clair was now eighteen. I had paid for her support for 204 months. Of course during that time Malcolm had spent a hell of a lot buying her clothes and stuff, but I wasn't going to bring that up. In order to make it look more precise we decided on nine hundred dollars a month. Of course it was still just a wild ass guess. So we put in a Creditor's Claim against the estate for $183,600. I didn't want to be greedy; I just wanted a piece of the pie.

One copy was sent to Probate Court and one copy was sent to William Estes and Son. Seymour wanted to also set me up for a divorce, but I declined.

Malcolm was cremated. I don't know what happened to the ashes. Two months later Marsha received a letter from William Estes and Son concerning the reading of the will for Malcolm Eugene Foote. I found the letter in her night stand. I didn't receive a letter but Seymour did.

William Estes Jr. handled the reading of the will. Present was Marsha Graves, her daughter Claire, and Seymour Schlamp, attorney for Martin Graves. Seymour said that Marsha and Claire were totally shocked when I was awarded the full amount that I asked for. My wife and daughter each received sixteen thousand four hundred dollars. That is all that was left after I got mine.

When the will was read it clearly stated that Malcolm was leaving his entire estate to Marsha and his biological daughter equally. That, in its self was sufficient to prove paternity. Surprisingly, nobody challenged it.

=======

I never divorced Marsha. I moved to Chattanooga and bought a new pick-up truck. I have a nice little stash of money put away. I found several local contractors that were more than willing to take me on for small under the table jobs.

Now I can move forward!