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I sighed and pressed into the center of my forehead, feeling a headache coming on. Glancing at my glass of water, I really wished I would've filled it with whiskey instead. But I was trying to be better and not drink tonight.
What a fucking mistake.
16
elliot
I never wantedto plan another birthday party. Ever. As long as I walked this Earth, I never, ever, fuckingever, wanted to do it again.
It was fucking Hell.
Call this person, that person, find a cake decorator—oh, wait, the cake decorator is out on maternity leave? Gotta find another. Get enough plates and utensils, but not the plain, boring, ugly ones. They had to be pink and sparkly and covered in fucking unicorns. Oh, and I couldn't forget the stupid ball pit Emma asked for.
Why had I agreed to a goddamn ball pit?
I rubbed at my temples in firm circular motions. I hadn't had a drink in two nights and my body was screaming at me to just crack the bottle open and take a swig. There was a bottle in my bottom drawer right now. No one would be the wiser. I could just take a pull and return it to its hiding place.
But, no.
I was stronger than that.
And I was at work. The last thing I needed was someone walking into my office when I had the bottle glued to my lips.
After work.
I'd have a drink, or ten. But I’d do itafterwork.
I stared down at the phone number scribbled on a piece of paper. I'd been avoiding calling the life insurance company because it felt too final. Once the money was in my account, it was all over.
But Cora had been on me since Meredith passed that I needed to do it, and it felt right doing it now. I could use the money to give Emma the best party in the entire world. I just needed to muster up the courage to call and go through all the steps I needed to get the money.
Once I did this, though, it was over and I didn't know why I felt so reluctant to end things. To close this chapter. To move on and try to finish mourning her. Was I even still mourning her? Had I ever even started?
I needed to stop going down this road. Of course, I'd mourned her. I'd loved her at one time. But maybe I'd mourned her and our relationship way before she ever died.
With a deep breath, I typed the number into my office phone and held the receiver against my ear. My stomach churned with every ring. Maybe it was a bad idea.
I knew Meredith had a lot of life insurance money but was it worth it to feel like this? Fuck. I knew it was. Emma could use it. I could use it for her party, then save the rest for college, or her wedding, or for anything she needed.
"Hello, this is Pamela, how can I help you?" a cheery voice said, startling me from my thoughts.
"Hey, Pamela," I said gruffly. "I'm Elliot Hayes, and I'm calling on behalf of my late wife, Meredith Hayes."
"Alright, Mr. Hayes," she said. "What can I do for you?" I took a deep breath and ignored the way my hands shook.
"My wife passed about six months ago," I started. "I—"
"I'm so sorry for your loss," she interrupted.
"Thanks," I breathed, and roughly cleared my throat. "I know it's been a few months, and I should've called sooner. I'm not really sure how it works, but I'm interested in withdrawing her life insurance."
"You should've received the money after she passed," she said.
"I never called—well, I did, but then got overwhelmed, and—"
"I understand," she said softly. "Do you have the account number?" I glanced at the folded paper and rattled off the number. I waited, intently listening to the faint taps as she typed. "Oh, this is odd. You never received the money?"
"No." My stomach twisted tighter. "I thought I needed to call to withdraw—"
