At the age of eighteen, I made a life-changing decision by marrying the lovable and witty Daniel, whom my affluent father disliked. My father had cried, “You marry that low-life, and you’ll get nothing from me, Margaret!” “You’ll see what love really is when you have to live in a one-bedroom rathole with roaches crawling up the walls!”
But I ignored them. I knew I wouldn’t regret falling in love with Daniel. At all.Returning to that tiny flat initially appeared romantic (there were no insects or rodents, only a lack of room). Daniel began working for the post office, and I was fortunate to find a position as a receptionist at a large hotel. Daniel had assured me, “Job security, love,” when I had encouraged him to hunt for a better paying job.
“I have to know there’s going to be a pension to keep us when we are old!” . I could see Daniel’s concern for safety. Had he not seen his father die in a construction accident, leaving his mother to rely on the scant social assistance provided to her? His widow and five children had no pension or insurance, and he had been an illegal.
Daniel was determined that he and I would not have the same experience. Daniel believed that working for the post office would provide us with that guarantee. However, with two children to support, two paltry wages did not go far. Daniel and I were frugal, but we spent everything we earned. There was rarely enough money to save.
After our two children grew up, left the house, and started their own lives, Daniel and I found ourselves back where we started: in Alaska for our son and Brazil for our daughter. Around this time, my father left this life. It appears that neither time nor my happiness softened his heart, as he handed his entire, large money to his youngest son, who was free of any remorse.
Daniel was inconsolable. He said bitterly, “This is what loving me cost you, Margaret!” “The life you deserved!” “No!” I firmly informed him. “I wouldn’t trade what we have for all the money in the world!” However, Daniel grew silent and distant, and I began to wonder if he still loved me for the first time in our thirty-eight-year marriage.
Daniel subsequently started working a lot of overtime at his job. “It’s this new overnight delivery mail, it has to be sorted 24/7,” he told me. However, I noticed that Daniel smelled different when he arrived home at two or three in the morning.I was never a fan of lily-scented soap, but this one smelled like flowers. It reminded me of my paternal grandmother, whom I had always disliked. Also, he only made love to me on weekends.
I tried convincing myself that it was all in my head, but nothing changed. Daniel smelled like lilies, he still came home every night, and worst of all, our joint account was depleted. It was two years later. Daniel grew enraged with me the one time I brought up the subject. Do I also need to explain my spending? “I earned this money; it’s mine!”
I grieved silently every night when he went home and turned his back on me in the bed where we had made our children, and I never spoke again after that. Daniel’s ‘overtime’ left us with few opportunities to address the difficulties that were significantly affecting our marriage, and we rarely discussed our retirement plans. He only left the house for meals on weekends, and the rest of his time was spent in the garage playing with who knows what.
I had gone from considering myself the happiest woman alive to being certain that I was the most wretched. My fantasies had disappeared into thin air, and I began to wonder if Daniel had ever genuinely loved me. We had recently celebrated our 50th wedding anniversary when Daniel suffered a heart attack. Even before the doctor said anything, I knew the outcome.
“I think you should prepare yourself for the worst, Mrs. Hernandez,” I heard him say. “Your spouse’s heart is completely drained. Due to his old age, a heart transplant is the only option.” “He’s sixty-nine,” I exclaimed. “He’s only sixty-nine, he promised he was going to retire.” I called our children that night, and they, along with my only grandchild, Anna, flew to New York to say their goodbyes.
It all ended two weeks later. After Daniel died, he only held my hand quietly, despite lovingly discussing the past with our children and granddaughter. “Margaret,” he whispered on his last day of life. “I love you, only you, I always have…” These were his final words, and they offered little comfort after so many years of doubt and suffering.
Weeping for their father, our son and daughter left quickly after the burial since they had their own lives to live. Anna was the one who stayed behind to help me accept my empty house and fucked life. I awoke the day after my children had left and vowed to delete everything from the past. I moved all of Daniel’s personal belongings into cardboard boxes for Goodwill with Anna’s help.
As I sealed the final box, the aroma of flowers overwhelmed my senses. I began to scream loudly, knocking over the box and spilling all of the carefully folded contents. With Anna’s encouragement and comfort, the whole story seemed to flow out of me. “He’s been cheating on me for the last 12 years, coming to my bed every night smelling of another woman,” I said with tears. “And his last words to me were a lie!”
Tears and sharing my pain with others helped, and Anna suggested that we take over Daniel’s garage to eliminate the last traces of my pain. When we entered the garage, the two of us began sorting through our life’s accumulation of clutter. Anna then found an antique suitcase with rusted locks in a corner. She elected to open it first, even though she intended to discard it since it felt weighty. Despite the lack of a key, the suitcase was easily opened using a hammer and an old spanner.
“Grandma…” Anna gasped. “Please come here…” I moved to my granddaughter’s side after dropping the tin containing the nails I had been sorting. The suitcase was open, displaying an old journal and nicely wrapped packs of $20 bills within. “Where did this come from?” I let out a gasp. “This is a lot of money!” Anna opened up the journal. “Grandma,” she mumbled. “You should read it.After your marriage, I suppose he started saving whatever penny he could.Whoa!
This was completed twelve years ago! Pay attention: “I started working the night shift as a sewer cleaner for the NYC sanitation department today.” Although it is not easy labor, I must assure Margaret’s future because the pay is far more than my day job. Her father was right. I’m not a winner. I’m determined to return at least some of what I cost her.
“I told Margaret that I sort the overnight mail and take a shower every night before I return home because I didn’t want her to find out. “I refuse to let that filth into our house.” I was silently crying as Anna told me about Daniel’s secret life. “Every month, Gran, he writes in what he stuffs into the suitcase…” There’s approximately $300,000 in total.”
I peeked into that worn-out bag, seeing real evidence of my husband’s steadfast commitment to me and willingness to offer anything for me. “Oh, Daniel,” I whispered. “And I wasted so much time in bitterness.” When my partner had the worst job, I suspected he was cheating on me. Daniel, I adore you. I clutched the journal near to my heart and murmured, “I love you so much, and I regret doubting your love.”