One Missed Call Killed Our Baby

Chapter 5

"This is insane! Stop saying crap like that!"

Andrew's voice shot through the silence, loud and frantic.

"But it's the truth," Tricia said calmly, her voice laced with hesitation.

Well, Andrew? How's that truth taste now? Still think I'm insane for collecting those ashes? Still think I'm just a 'petty mother'?

His hand slowly dropped the phone. His face turned a sickly white as he looked at me, like he'd just seen a ghost. Then, to my disbelief, he sank to his knees beside me, his hands trembling.

"Let me help," he murmured.

"Don't you dare," I snapped, my voice razor-sharp.

I'd already failed my son twice. Once when I trusted his selfish father to care for him. And again when I stood by and let that woman desecrate his resting place. That was two times too many.

"You don't get to do this," I growled, shoving him back.

"You killed him. And now you want to act like the grieving father? You're unbelievable."

"I didn't know," he stammered, eyes wide and lost. "I didn't realize this was Matthew's grave, and I…"

Is it sinking in now? Want me to spell it out for you?

"I killed Matthew? Emily, what are you even saying?"

"Are you serious right now?" I hissed.

"You left our son alone at a train station to go running off with Claire. He was six, Andrew. He wandered off, scared and confused, and got hit by a damn truck!"

I could see the horror creeping into his expression. Good. Let it crawl under your skin.

"You have no idea how absent you've been. Always working late, always off somewhere with Claire, never there for us. You missed every birthday, every school event. But do you know what hurts the most?"

I paused, struggling to steady my breath.

"Matthew never hated you for it. He blamed himself. He'd ask me if he did something wrong, if maybe you didn't love him anymore. And me? I covered for you. I told him you were busy working to give us a better life. He actually suggested we stop buying toys and eat less, just so you wouldn't have to work so hard."

I laughed bitterly, tears stinging the corners of my eyes.

"Six years old, Andrew. Six. And he was more mature than you ever were. His teacher adored him. Said he was the kindest, most thoughtful kid in class. He saved his snacks for you, 'cause in his words, 'Dad works hard and deserves a treat.' You didn't even notice."

My voice cracked.

"The day he found out you were picking him up, he was ecstatic. His teacher recorded him dancing around like it was Christmas. It was the first time you ever came for him, and he thought it was the best day of his life."

And then, the final blow.

"But you never showed up. You ditched your son for Claire. Again. And now… he's gone."

I broke. The words were out, the dam shattered. My voice rose, raw and full of pain.

"How could you? How could you just leave him like that, Andrew? How could you walk away from your own child like he was nothing?"

Andrew knelt there, silent, broken, tears welling in his eyes. But I wasn't done.

"I'm sorry, Emily. I never wanted this to happen," he whispered.

"Remember when you told Matthew to 'man up' and be independent because he was six? But Claire, a full-grown woman, couldn't go anywhere without you?" I scoffed, disgusted.

"You thought it was more important to help her bury her dog than spend time with your living, breathing son."

I shook my head, heart shredded.

"You said we weren't worth your time. And now it's too late. You don't get to explain anything. Matthew's gone. And it's because of you."