Champagne Life

Irving Shaw pulled into the driveway of his parents’ beige two-story home. As he exited the vehicle, he noticed an elderly woman with a cane struggling to pick up after her gray and tan Yorkie. He jogged over to her.

“Excuse me, ma’am. Allow me.” He took the small plastic bag from her hand and picked up the excrement. The old woman squinted at him. Her left eye was cloudy, but it scanned his face. Her eyebrows raised.

“Is that Irving Shaw? My God! Look at you. A fine gentleman come to save these old bones. Praise the Lord.”

He recognized the voice as that of Mrs. Chambers, a long-time neighbor who lived down the street. She had aged considerably since he’d last seen her. Her Yorkie sniffed at the edge of the lawn as they chatted.

“I lose track of the years, you know? The other day I confuse Winston for you. My goodness, the time flying. Both of you grown so. Your mother tell me you done marry and had babies. Praise Jesus!”

“Yes, ma’am. I have a beautiful wife and two boys. Oldest is three. The youngest is five months.” 

“Add a little more, you hear? We can use more children from good stock. Conrad and Jeanette did a fine job with you.”

Irving was still beaming from all the compliments Mrs. Chambers had heaped on him when he entered the kitchen. His mother stirred a pot on the stove. His younger brother sat at the dining table.

“I promise I’ll pay you back.” Winston clasped his hands. Jeanette side eyed him.

“What’s he begging for now,” Irving asked. He kissed his mother’s temple.

“He wants my money so he can chase tail in Cancun.”

Winston laughed. “It’s not like that. I just wanna have a little fun for spring break.”

“How much you need,” Irving asked.

“Like $250. I’ll give it all back. Scout’s honor.” 

Irving knew it was unlikely he’d ever see a penny return, but he agreed to loan Winston the money. He remembered what it was like to be a broke college student, and even though things were tight, he wanted to see his brother happy.

“Is Bria going with you?”

Winston’s jaw stiffened. He stared at the wooden table and traced his finger along the grain. Irving looked at his mother. She shrugged.

“Good, you’re here,” Conrad said, entering the room. “You can still help me with the oil change?”

“Yes,” Irving said. “How’s the back?”

“It trouble me something terrible. I don’t know how I tweak it so. The doctor said it should heal up on its own. Let’s hope I don’t keel over before then.”

Irving snickered.

“You! Come make yourself useful and help your brother change the oil.”

Winston groaned, but he stood and followed them into the garage. Irving placed a jack under the car and raised it while Winston grabbed an oil drain pan. Their dad inspected a bottle of oil.

“So what happened to Bria?”

Winston stood next to him, holding the pan. “She broke up with me. Said I didn’t give her enough time and attention. I don’t get it. I really thought she was the one.”

Irving grunted. “I’ve been there before.”

“How’d you get past it?”

“He call me up,” Conrad interjected. “And you know what I tell him? Sometimes a little sweetness make the bitterness go down easier. Did I lie?” He pointed at his oldest son. Irving thought back to the end of his two-and-a-half-year relationship with Tiffany, a college sweetheart he planned to marry. He went three days without much sleep after she left. Then, he took his father’s advice and called an old fling. He slept peacefully after that.

Irving shook his head and smiled. “Just take it one day at a time, bro.”

They continued to chat while Irving performed the oil change. When he was done, he went back to the kitchen to kiss his mother goodbye.

“Hey, I have a long haul this week, and Mel’s gonna need help with the kids. You free?”

“For my grandbabies,” Jeanette asked. “Any time. Have her call me. Oh! I almost forget. There’s some mail for you over on the table. Stuff that collect through the years. Take it with you. I’m trying to declutter.”

Irving walked over to the table and picked up the bundle of envelopes. Most of it was junk mail and old bills, but one caught his attention. He opened it. 

Dear Irving,

I hope this letter finds you well. I know it’s random, but lately you’ve been on my mind, and I can’t seem to shake you.

He looked at the outside of the envelope. Tiffany Champagne. It was her, although he’d known her as Tiffany Elmhurst. He wondered what she wanted and why it warranted sending a letter to his parents’ home more than a decade after they last spoke.

Don’t worry. This isn’t some weird love letter sent too many years too late. At least, not in that way. I just…

He stared at the lines in purple ink, trying to see past the neat loops and swirls to the true meaning. It’s like she heard me talking about her, he said to himself. An eerie sensation crept over him.

“Alright, Mommy, I’m heading out. See you, Bro. Thanks for the advice and the money. Don’t forget the money.” Winston hugged their mother. Irving mumbled a goodbye without looking up from the page.

I’ve been wondering if you’re okay, but I’m too cowardly to call. I figured this way, if you weren’t open to hearing me out, you could toss this note in the trash, and I’d be saved from the embarrassment of being rejected by you. I deserve that rejection, though. The way I treated you was horrible. 

He thought back to the last time he saw her, three months after their breakup. They met up in a grocery store parking lot so she could give him a parting gift of sorts, a check for $1,000. It was her way of apologizing for how things ended.

Back then, he was still acclimating to life as a truck driver. The nights were long, dark, and lonely. When he saw her number on his phone, he’d answered despite wanting to send her to voicemail. She explained that she’d gotten a bonus at work.

“I know things are a struggle for you right now, and I want to help.” 

You could’ve helped by staying, he’d thought. He agreed to meet her for two reasons. He needed the money. He loved her through the pain.

When they connected a week later, he couldn’t help but fall back into the familiar. He gave her a tour of the truck, let her climb into the cab and sit on his bed while he watched from the passenger’s seat, wondering how wide he could spread her legs in the cramped space. Teetering on the edge of trying to find out, he did the only thing he could think of.

“How’s the new man,” he asked. She looked away. He imagined she was searching for a way to avoid an argument. Irving raised his hands.

“Not trying to start nothing. I’m genuinely asking.” He kept his voice soft.

“He’s good.” She stared at nothing for a few moments. “I should go. I have some work I need to finish before tomorrow.” 

He knew it was a lie. She always bit the inside of her cheek when lying, and a small dimple formed. Standing outside face-to-face, she handed him the check.

“Hopefully this helps a little.”

She flinched when she said goodbye. He knew the reflex well. The urge to embrace her was etched into him as deeply as the instinct to pull one’s hand from a flame. He held still and let it burn.

All of that was a lifetime ago. He recalled the pain like a historical fact, something learned but not lived. His days were filled with Melissa and their boys now. He’d moved on.

I can’t undo what I did, but hopefully, you’re open to hearing what I have to say. I promise this will be the only letter I write you. I’m not here to ruin the peace you’ve made. I doubt I even could. You’ve probably moved on many times over. That’s not a dig, I just meant that-

Ignore that last part. I would start over, but this is already my fifth attempt, and I might lose the nerve.

Jeanette placed a plate of peas and rice with stew chicken before him. “You should eat something.” She walked over to the sink and started washing the dishes. Conrad sat on a bar stool, watching from the corner of his eye.

I used you. I called it love, but it wasn’t. I was so young and broken back then. I didn’t realize my desire for you was an attempt to patch all the holes in me. I desperately needed love and friendship, and you gave me that. You were my best friend, and instead of loving you when it mattered most, I abandoned you.

One night, in the seventh straight hour of him standing on his feet at the shitty hotel where he worked, she met a man at a small gathering of friends. They hit it off. She gave the guy her number. Nothing was the same between them.

I had no integrity. I started building a life with him while still living with you, and I blamed you for it. I felt that if you’d paid more attention to me, I wouldn’t have fallen for someone else. I was delusional.

Garlic and onion, thyme, black pepper and a hint of clove. A medley of spices wafted up his nose and tugged at the knot forming in his stomach. He noticed that the edge of the paper was crumpled under his grip. He set it down and pulled the plate towards him, watching the steam rise as he massaged his neck.

Irving felt Conrad and Jeanette staring at him and noticed how they were thoroughly engaged in things that didn’t need attention. Maybe I should eat, he thought. He grabbed the heavy fork and took a bite.

I made you into a villain because I couldn’t face myself. I’m not saying that I shouldn’t have left. We both know that we were doomed from the start. That’s why I fell so hard for him. We were compatible, him and me.

Irving’s stomach lurched.

I married him, you know? We have a son together. It’s been 2 years, and I still can’t believe I’m a mom. Me! The girl who couldn’t function if she missed a nap. We live a beautiful life. Our home overlooks the beach. We vacation in Europe, and he bought me a luxury car for Christmas, even included the red bow on top just like in the commercials. My life with him is good. We call it the Champagne Life.

If it’s so good, why write me, he wondered.

Despite the decadence, I dream of you occasionally. In my last one, we cruised around the city in your old Benz, listening to music, talking and laughing like old times. It was such a vibe that I woke up and missed you… to the point where I looked up your house and saw that you sold it. A little stalkerish, I admit, but I had to know what became of you.

I was going to click away and savor the memories, but I noticed the sale price.

He swallowed hard and rose from the table, picking up his nearly full plate. “Mommy, I think I’m gonna pack this to go.” He crossed the kitchen and set it down on a counter. Jeanette rummaged through a cabinet.

“What is it?” Conrad nodded to the paper on the table.

“A letter from Tiffany.” 

His father frowned. “That girl that run off on you? What she send a letter for?”

“To apologize.”

“Sounds like she tryna creep back 'pon the green grass,” he said with a laugh.

Jeanette spooned the leftovers into a container and sealed it.

“Leave him, Conrad. It seem serious.” She gave Irving one of those knowing looks he hated, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder and handing him the container.

Few things in the world made Irving emotional; two moved him to tears: the memory of Granny singing Bob Marley and any reminder of the crippling debt that caused him to drop out of college and abandon his dream of becoming a doctor. He was still clawing his way out of the hole he’d found himself in, albeit on better footing now.

Why torture myself like this, he thought. She was the past. He’d loved her and gave his all, and she’d left. It was like that sometimes. Granny always said life’s about loving and losing. You must carry on. No point in looking back.

Determined to shred every trace of her and continue with his life, he gathered the letter and envelope. A dollar amount caught his eye.

$87,925. That’s how much equity you lost in your home. That’s how much I’ve enclosed.

He dropped the page. His breath was ragged as he opened the envelope. There it was—a check for $87,925 made out to him. He stared at it, motionless.

I can finally take Melissa on the honeymoon she deserves, he said to himself. He thought of all the things in his life that needed fixing, the HVAC system that always crapped out during the hottest days of summer, the dryer that left their clothes wet, his old truck. He could set money aside for his kids to attend college and help Winston pay down some of his student loans. His heart raced as he ran through all of the possibilities. Then he saw the date.

“No,” he said. “Oh no.” He turned the envelope over and looked at the postmark. It was from the same year as the check, almost three years prior.

“What happened,” Conrad asked. Irving couldn’t speak. He walked over to his father and handed him the check. Conrad leaped from his chair.

“Praise Jesus! Why you standing there? Let’s go put it in the bank right now.”

“The date.”

Conrad looked at the check again. His face fell. He stood silent for a moment.

“Pick up the phone and call her. Tell her there was a mixup and you just got the mail. Ask if she can issue you a new one.”

“I don’t have her number,” Irving said.

“All the time you done spend with the girl, and you don’t remember it? Think man! This life-changing money. Think good!”

Jeanette walked over to Conrad and peered over his shoulder. Her eyes went wide. She darted out of the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with a small notebook. Conrad was still pressing Irving to remember. She flipped through the pages.

“Here! Tiffany E. That’s her, right?” She showed the page to Irving. He nodded.

“Don’t it seem a little rude to call out the blue for money,” he asked.

“Man!” Conrad sucked his teeth. He took his cell phone from his pocket and started typing in the numbers. Irving grabbed it before he could press send. Conrad winced as they wrestled over the phone.

“You wasting time, Irving! We can’t afford to lose no money like this.”

“I know! I just- give me a minute.” He took a deep breath and retrieved his own cell phone. “The call should come from me.” 

Maybe she still has my number and will recognize it, he thought. He looked at the check as the line rang. His heart pounded in his chest.

“Hello,” a man’s voice said. Irving looked down at the phone. Did I dial the wrong number?

“Hi, um, sorry. I think I-”

“Are you calling for Tiffany?” The voice sounded heavy to Irving. He heard children playing in the background. I should hang up, he thought. I have no business calling another man’s wife. He glanced at his dad. Conrad was hunched over in anticipation. As a cosigner, he, too, had taken a hit when Irving’s dreams went up in flames.

Dad’s right. We need this money.

“Yes, My name is-”

“I know who you are.” 

Please don’t tell me I’m gonna have to curse this guy out, Irving thought. The man on the other end sighed.

“Unfortunately, I have some bad news…”

Irving listened in stunned silence as his former rival recounted how the woman they had both loved drowned herself after a long battle with postpartum depression. He couldn’t understand how the man had the strength to tell the story or avoid going in after her.

There was a crack in the man’s voice. He started to weep.

“Don’t worry, Dada,” a little voice said. “Mama be back for you.”

Irving’s heart shattered. He thought of Melissa and the way their boys adored her. A tear tumbled from his eye and splattered on the dollar box. He managed to stall the rest. 

“I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

The men exchanged goodbyes. Irving ended the call and clutched the check to his chest. He remembered how the soft hand that wrote it used to trace his collarbone. His lips trembled.

Conrad tapped his arm. He expected to look at his father and find scorn and impatience. Instead, his arms were open.

Irving collapsed into his embrace, trying not to put too much weight on his father’s aching back. Conrad stood firm and held him tightly. As the first wave of wails crashed into his father's shoulder, his mother took his hand. She pressed it to her lips and hummed the chorus of Three Little Birds.