Haunting Guilt

Helen trembled as she placed her cell phone after hanging up abruptly. She tried to collect the thoughts swirling in her brain faster than a category-five hurricane off the coast of Florida. With a heavy heart, she paced the room, her mind racing with questions and doubts that consumed her. Suddenly, the missed calls, the late texts, and the unexplained absences made sense. Bubbles, her cat, sensing the switch in her mood, came to the rescue, but she couldn't see or hear him meowing. Shock, fear, pain, and sadness took over all her senses. Anger took over, fueled by the knowledge that she had been in the dark for many years. 

She picked up the phone in anger and looked at the time. Tim, her husband, should be on his way home from work. She couldn't wait. She called and waited for him to pick up. But he didn't answer. Without waiting, she called again. On the third ring, he answered :

"Hey babe, sorry I was getting into. . ."

"How could you ?!" 

"Huh? How could I what ?"

"Where have you been going every Sunday night for the past five years? And don't lie to me." 

"What?"

"Don't what me, Tim. It's not a good time to play stupid right now. "

He sighed. 

"Jesus Helen. . . it is not what you think; I'm getting on the highway. Can we do this when I get home? You are overreacting. " 

"Do what, Tim? Stop gaslighting me! Just answer my question. It is that simple." 

"I am not gaslighting you! I will answer all your questions as soon . ." The sudden screech of tires shattered his words. The crushing of glass and metal and a sickening crash reverberated through the phone line right after. Helen's heart lurched in her chest; a paralyzing dread gripped her as she realized with dawning horror that her husband just had a car accident while speaking to her.

"TIM? Are you okay? TIM?? Are you there?" 

There was no response. Helen listened helplessly as tears streamed down her face as a torrent of disbelief threatened to drown her in a sea of anguish. The weight of helplessness and regret bore down on her like a suffocating blanket. She clutched onto her cell phone tightly. Her weapon, only a few seconds ago, is now her lifeline, connecting her to her husband. She continued to listen intently for the fading sound of his breath, which was replaced by a cacophony of distant voices and sirens in the background. 

The noises got closer. Helen heard the yells of paramedics on the scene. Then, a loud thud followed by another one. A few seconds later, a voice said, "Oh Jesus." Helen started yelling and screaming on the phone, hoping someone would hear her. But there was no response. Another loud thud happened, and then the call was disconnected. Helen cursed, opened the "find my phone" app, and traced her husband's location. She dialed 9-1-1, asked what hospital her husband would be taken to, and dashed to the garage. 

Helen gripped the steering wheel of her car with trembling hands, her knuckles white against the leather. Her eyes, wide and glistening with tears, darted between the road ahead and her phone resting in the passenger seat, where the hospital's address glowed faintly. Outside, the world was a blur. Streetlights streaked past, and other cars seemed to move agonizingly slow, their brake lights casting an eerie red glow across her face. Her foot pressed harder on the gas, her desperation to reach the hospital outweighing her usual caution. She whispered a prayer under her breath as soon as she saw the turnoff for the hospital looming ahead with its fluorescent sign glowing faintly in the distance. Her vision blurred momentarily from the tears, and she tried to blink away to focus on the road. She yelled at the last red light that was taking forever as each second felt like a lifetime of dread. She finally arrived at the ER and left the car with the valet. Her chest tightened as she ran towards the entrance, fearing what lay ahead. 

Helen rushed through the emergency room doors, her heart pounding as she scanned the busy room for any sign of her husband. The pervasive scent of antiseptic and urgency filled the air around her. The main desk was buzzing with urgent voices from nurses and doctors with frenetic energy walking by, which heightened the tension in the air. She asked about her husband from the highway accident, to which she was told to hold on. A minute later, a young doctor approached her with a solemn expression, his eyes betraying the weight of the news he was about to deliver. Helen's breath caught in her throat, and a gnawing sense of dread settled in the pit of her stomach as she braced herself for the inevitable. In hushed tones, the doctor delivered the news that shattered her world in an instant - her husband did not survive the car accident. 

Time stood still as Helen processed the devastating truth, her mind struggling to grasp the unfathomable reality of her loss. The sounds of the bustling emergency room faded into the background, replaced by a deafening silence that echoed the void left by Tim's sudden absence. She collapsed on the floor sobbing, her world spinning as she grappled with the enormity of her loss. A terrifying thought came to her mind. Could she have been the reason for Tim's death? The weight of the possibility hung heavy on her conscience, a crushing burden that threatened to consume her fragile sense of self.

A nurse helped her up and guided her toward a chair while another grabbed her some tissues and a cup of iced water. They tried to talk to her, but Helen did not respond. Instead, she replayed her final conversation with Tim in her mind while a torrent of doubt and guilt flooded her thoughts. Did her harsh tone and accusations cloud his judgment or take his eyes off the road? Why couldn't she wait until he returned? At least then, she could have looked him in the eyes. She was always impatient. The guilt gnawed at her insides, a relentless voice that whispered accusations of blame and responsibility. 

The hours and days that followed were a blur. Helen's family appeared out of nowhere to take care of her or the funeral proceedings. Her mother made food that she had never eaten. Her uncle called the church and arranged everything with the funeral home. She never left her room or even her bed. Everyone tried to talk to her and console her, but she just lowered her tear-streaked face and said nothing. No one knew the tumultuous sea of emotions with a potent mix of guilt, grief, anger, and regret that swirled in her mind. She did not know what to feel anymore, and the only person who could have calmed her down was gone. 

On the day of the funeral, Helen stood at the front of the aisle, her eyes fixed on the closed casket. She listened to the somber notes of the melancholic organ, which reverberated through the whole church, casting a haunting melody. As the funeral drew to a close, Helen breathed in relief. She couldn't take that heavy scent of incense any longer. The haunted widow watched as a group of men lifted the casket. With trembling hands, she reached out to touch the cold gray surface, a silent gesture of farewell and contrition. 

She walked slowly outside of the church as her mother held her arms. Mourners in somber black attire, heads bowed in reverence and sorrow, followed her. As everyone shook her hands, offering words of consolation, a group of men and women approached the grieving widow. They were unfamiliar faces, strangers she had never seen before. Their expressions were gloomy, and their gestures tentative as they extended their hands in support and solidarity. Finally, Helen asked a woman in that group how they knew Tim as she never met them. The woman smiled politely and said they were his friends. She tried to move, but Helen held on to her elbow. 

"Friends from where? I never met you before." 

The woman was startled by Helen and was about to say something before the man behind her interrupted. 

"We have known Tim for a while. He was sort of a mentor for us."

"A mentor? Like at work? " 

"No . . . Look, we don't want to make much of your time. We were here just to . . ." But Helen interrupted him with a simple question. 

"Who are you?" 

The man just shook his head and tried to smile but said nothing. 

"Just tell me!" This time, Helen raised her voice.

"I am sorry. I thought Tim told you about us, but clearly, he did not. I was not expecting that."

"Us? Who are you guys? What are you talking about?"

"I just feel very awkward telling you this. Didn't you wonder where he went every Sunday?"

"Wait, every Sunday?"

"Yes." 

Helen took him aside and asked him to tell her everything. She listened in horror as she realized she was too quick to assume the worst of her husband. What did that say about her? Why did she lose her trust in him so quickly?

Her heart swelled with mixed emotions- pride, guilt, and profound sadness. She felt pride as she recognized the courage it must have taken Tim to seek help and confront his battles, albeit in silence. She also felt guilt and sadness that Tim was uncomfortable or embarrassed to tell her the truth. For the past five years, Tim attended an alcoholics anonymous meeting.