When Relationships Fool Us

It was colder than Joe expected as he walked from the elevator to his Lexus. He was wearing his zippered sweatshirt, olive cargo shorts, and sneakers. When he started the engine, he turned the heat to 78 before changing the radio to Maddog Sports.

He heard the howling of the wind as he approached Interstate 95 southbound. As the red light turned green and the 6:00 A.M. darkness faded to light, Joe glanced at the dashboard and saw the 53 degrees registering on the outside temperature.

“Too cold for South Florida,” he thought as he sped up from Boca Raton to Margate for his twice-weekly deposit of plasma. He was trying to sell a fictional book, loosely based on his life of the past twenty years with a wife who has Narcissistic Personality Disorder, and plasma donations were paying $100 a week.

The thought of such madness never entered his mind until an old friend reached out to him about a way to earn “free money.”

“Jeez, Dan. What’s next? Sperm donor?”

“I don’t know about you, but free money is free money. It’s cash in your pocket. With no income, a free four hundred bucks a month ain’t so bad.”

After a year of donating, Joe was used to the routine. Drink water. Lots and lots of water the day before. The more water, the quicker the plasma deposits. Eat. Walk into Dunkin’ Donuts afterward and buy coffee and a donut. Dan explained that the coffee and donut would avoid lightheadedness, and all would be fine.

The warm weather was returning as Joe was leaving the center. He headed right towards the Dunkin Donuts at the corner of the strip mall. He finished the donut while walking to his car thinking he would place the large coffee into the cupholder and save it until he returned to the apartment in Delray Beach overlooking the ocean.

The light was green as he approached the Atlantic Avenue exit.

“Shit. I knew it,” he mumbled while watching the light turn yellow.

“Oh, oh, oh

Sweet child o' mine

Oh, oh, oh, oh

Sweet love of mine”

He glanced at his phone carefully tucked on the front car seat between his legs, seeing the picture of his mother’s first cousin whom he had been staying with since his divorce.

“Hey. What’s going on?” he asked.

“Joe, where are you?”

“Just approaching Atlantic Avenue. Should be back in ten minutes.”

“Listen, I just received a phone call from an attorney.”

“Great, what’s she want now. I've absolutely nothing. Zero. She spent it all while we were married. That’s why I’m sticking out my arm and saying ah.”

“Listen. It wasn’t Leslie’s attorney.”

“Oh?”

“Maybe this should wait till you get back.”

“Nah. Just tell me.”

“I thought you might still be donating and maybe you could call on your way here.”

“Jackie. What’s going on?”

The silence had him thinking he had lost the signal. He looked at the phone and saw the seconds continue to count off.

Joe turned off the radio and was about to ask if she could hear him.

“It was your mother’s attorney. She passed away on August ninth.”

There was more silence.

“Joe. Joe. Are you okay?”

“Um, no. No, I’m not.”

He began rubbing his forehead as he drove down the avenue.

“Are you close?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

“Okay. There’s a number to call. I’ll see you shortly.” Click.

It took a great deal to bother Joe. He started questioning himself.

“Nothing really bothers me. I mean I complain a lot, but nothing really upsets me or causes me to flip out. What’s wrong with me? Maybe I’m just used to losing.”

He turned off the engine and sat motionless for what felt like a day.

Entering the apartment through the kitchen as he had so many times before felt eerie. He dropped his key on the counter and saw Jackie sitting on the sofa.

“A lawyer called and asked for you. He identified himself as your mother’s attorney and he had information about the will.”

“And?”

“It would appear she passed away in early August and he did not understand you don’t live here nor that you were unaware that she was gone.”

She stood and walked to her phone on the kitchen counter.

“Here’s the number. I said that I would reach out to you but I’m so sorry.”

This pain he felt. It was in his head and his heart. His brother and sister disliked his ex-wife. Her narcissistic personality caused them to move their mother, who in recent years had been suffering from dementia, and not tell him where she was living.

He looked at his phone. September 23.

Upon speaking with the attorney, he also learned that they removed him from her will.

“According to this guy, she took me and the boys out of her estate, her grandsons, from the will and left everything to my brother and sister. She bypassed me. He also claimed she was of sound mind and body when she did this, so I have absolutely no reason to challenge the documentation.”

“When was the last time your brother had a job?”

“Oh, that would be roughly twenty years ago when he asked my mother for fifty thousand dollars so he could start a healthcare company. He must have asked her for payroll money at least seven or eight times and never paid her back. The place went belly up within a year. Me out of the will means more for him. But I can say this, they both should be ashamed of themselves. If they wanted me out, then my share should go to my two children and if my mother was of sound mind and body, she would have done just that. Keeping me away from the funeral and kicking me out of her will? What kind of people are these?”

“Joe, I’m so sorry.”

“Look I know who I was married to. I had to duck every night for fear of being hit with something. She created a world of chaos. Her envy of others caused hatred in me, never knowing why I hated them. Before her, I always liked people and most of them liked me. My sister pushed her, causing her abuse to escalate. Ya know, she became triggered by life events. Looking back, I see how the bigger the event, the more the abusive behavior escalated. Others do not understand the hell that was taking place. Our wedding. The birth of both boys. When we bought a new house. Starting a new job. Jackie, she refuses to give me back my premarital stuff. Premarital.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Same as always. Nothing. Cry. Cry and mourn my mother. Those bastards didn’t tell me about the funeral. Didn’t tell me she was sick. Kept her from me for the past three years. Now I know why.”

“Why?”

“Same answer as always. Money. If they convince my mother that I’m Osama bin Laden, Charles Manson, and Jack the Ripper all in one and that the Narc would get her hands on any money left for the boys, they’d get it all. I tell ya, Jackie, I come from scum. I’m sure my brother made it a point to tell everyone that she died because of me.”

“I’m so sorry. Do you want to contest the will?”

“Why? For what purpose? I told you, I always lose. I never loved the narc. My dad pushed me into that one. She spent every penny I had and continues to tell people what a piece of crap I am, including the boys… every day. She took me away from my family and my friends and it's all my fault. I’ll never have an opportunity to say goodbye to my mother. Do you think they care? Do you think the Narc cares?”

“Joe don’t stop believing. Never stop believing. I firmly believe in Karma and I think you should too. You know what they say, “Karma’s a bitch.”

Joe interlocked his fingers and placed them behind his head.

“Let’s pay a visit to your mother. She must be at the cemetery with your father. Right? Things will change. Keep focusing on the positive.”

“And?”

“There is no and. You must take back control of your life. Your ex-wife and brother and sister are out and there is no place to go but up, which is more than I can say for them.”