Off The Record
My Spouse Told Me That Our 3-Year-Old Child Had Been Buried; A Day Later, I Discovered The Terrible Truth
Before a late-night phone call broke the illusion with unexpected news, Greg believed he and Natalie had sorted out the entire co-parenting thing.
Five years. Before we ended our relationship, Natalie and I were together for that long. Even though we didn’t say it aloud, I believe we both knew it was coming. Perhaps we were too young when we first met.
And as the thrill subsided and reality set in, we just quit trying. There was no drama. No major altercations. Just the gradual understanding that perhaps we weren’t destined to be together forever.
We now reside in separate states. Really, different lives. Oliver, our three-year-old son, is the only thing that unites us. That child is everything to me. It’s not enough that I get him over the holidays, but it’s something. It’s never sufficient.
However, I didn’t want to make things unattractive. We didn’t need a contentious custody dispute or lawyers. That was something Natalie and I both agreed on. Growing up in a home where his parents were often at each other’s throats was not something Oliver deserved.
We kept things cordial because of this. She would always video call me in the evening so I could bid Oliver good night. It turned into a routine that I eagerly anticipated. It felt a bit less broken just to watch his small face light up and hear him say “Night, Daddy,” before he went to bed.
Everything was all OK. Before I received the call, we were trying to make it work.
“Greg!” The phone rang, and Natalie’s voice wasn’t in her typical soothing tone. No, she was crying this time. No—yelling. “Greg, our son’s gone!”
I went cold. “What do you mean, gone?”
She screamed, “Oliver is dead!” and the words pierced me deeply.
I was unable to even comprehend it. “What? What are you discussing?” “How?”
It was difficult to hear what Natalie was saying since she was crying so much. “He’s—he simply vanished. Greg, oh my god.”
The weight of her words crushed me as I fell to the ground. This was not possible. Not Oliver. Not my boy.
“I’ll be present.” I responded, stumbling to my feet and trembling, “I’m coming right now.”
“No,” she stutteringly said. “Avoid it. The ceremony has already taken place. He’s… been laid to rest.”
“Buried?” I uttered a whisper, gasping for air.
I hung up in despair. With my fingers aching to contact Natalie again and demand answers, I gazed at the phone. The incessant swirling of questions in my mind made my heart race. Before I could talk myself out of it, I pressed the call button.
Once, the phone rang. Twice. Then, at last—
Natalie said, “Greg,” in a raspy voice that was almost audible above a whisper.
“What the hell, Natalie?” My voice broke as I spat. “What kept you from telling me? You ought to have given me a call if Oliver had been ill or injured.”
“I—I couldn’t,” she stumbled, gasping for air.
“You couldn’t?” I retaliated by getting to my feet and pacing the room. “His father is me, Natalie! I ought to have been present. I ought to have known! Even so, what took place? He was all right yesterday.”
She cried, “It all happened so fast,” her words a mess. “I didn’t know how to—”
“What, Natalie? How to? How can I know that our son has passed away?” Anger and grief swept over me like waves as my voice broke. “Are you even aware of the sensation of that? To hear it that way?”
Whispering, “I’m sorry,” she said. “I was unable to… This was not something I wanted to do on the phone.”
I made an effort to speak steadily. “Then when were you going to tell me?”
She gasped out, “I’m sorry,” as if it would somehow make things better.
“Sorry is insufficient, Natalie. Not now. I suppressed the scream that was rising in my chest by biting my lip. Why didn’t anyone else call me?”
Why didn’t her parents call me, even if she was too distraught to think clearly? Even her new spouse, Mike, could have gotten in touch. Even though I detested the man for replacing me in Oliver’s life, he ought to have given me a call.
I was packed my bags the following day when the phone rang. I looked at Mike on the television. The new husband of Natalie. As I responded, my jaw tensed.
I said, “Mike,” as I closed my suitcase. “I’m en route. I will arrive by tonight.”
Mike said, “Wait, Greg,” in a quiet, almost apprehensive tone. His speech had a strange quality that caused me to halt in my tracks.
“What is it?” Bracing myself for anything he might say, I asked.
His comments rocked me to my core when he finally spoke after a pause.
“Dude, Natalie is completely insane. This is all stuff she made up. Oliver is still alive.”
My heart thumped hard against my chest. “What?” Hardly believing what I had just heard, I mumbled.
Mike said, “Natalie made it all up,” in a tight, incredulous voice. “Oliver is doing well. He is currently with her parents.”
I was silent for a moment. In an attempt to keep up with the influx of feelings, my mind raced. The uncertainty, the relief, the rage. My son was still alive.. All night long, I had been grieving for him, imagining his eternal absence, and now—now Mike was telling me it was all a lie.
“She… she lied?” My voice was hardly heard as I asked.
“Yes,” Mike sighed. She has been expressing that she no longer wants you in her life. She let it slip, but I didn’t think she would go this far. She reasoned that if you thought Oliver was dead, you would permanently avoid him.
I stood motionless, experiencing a range of feelings. My chest filled with anger. How could she harm me like this? To Oliver?
Mike went on, “Greg, I know this is a lot, but I couldn’t keep this from you.” For some time now, Natalie has been… she’s been falling apart. “As soon as I learned, I gave you a call.”
I took a while to reply. I was having trouble thinking clearly. My son was still alive. I had trusted Natalie to co-parent with me, but she had lied. It wasn’t just a little untruth; it was something so horrible that I couldn’t even comprehend it.
I completed packing and made reservations for the next flight without saying anything further. I required clarification. I had to see Oliver.
The flight seemed to go on forever. The anger that had been seething beneath the surface had intensified into a rage that I could hardly control by the time I landed.
Before I could even knock, Natalie opened the door when I eventually got to her house. Tears were already running down her face, and her eyes were crimson.
She whispered, “Greg,” her voice breaking. She moved out of the way so I could enter.
I didn’t care about the niceties and left my stuff in the corridor. “How could you do that to me?” My voice was low but shaking with anger as I asked.
Her lips trembled as she wiped her eyes. “I—I thought you’d take Oliver from me.”
“What?” Startled, I blink. “Why would I do that?”
Natalie paused, staring at the floor. “I am… I am expecting another child,” she said in a low voice. “I was afraid. I assumed you would take Oliver away from me if you found out. that since I would be having another child here, you would assume he should move in with you.”
I gaped at her in shock. “That’s what you believed? That I would simply remove Oliver from your presence?”
She sniffed and nodded. “Greg, I freaked out. I was at a loss for what to do.”
My rage sprang up again, strong and scorching. “So you staged the death of our son? You buried him in my memory, Natalie. Are you even conscious of what you have done to me?”
Unable to look me in the eyes, she wept softly.
I was trembling now, struggling to keep the tempest inside of me under control. “This has nothing to do with what you believed or your new baby. You nearly tore Oliver away from me, and this is about him. Forever.”
Natalie broke down in tears, clearly appalled by what she had done.
“Natalie,” I murmured, conscious that Mike had come in.
“This makes a difference, but it doesn’t justify your actions. If you had trusted me enough to be honest and forthright, that would have been beneficial. Oliver and I would never have been parted. He needs us both. But the untruth has hurt and infuriated me. I believed my son was dead for hours.”
Cradling her stomach every few minutes, Natalie sat and wept for a long time.
Subsequently, I heard tiny footsteps rushing down the corridor.
“Daddy!” Oliver leaped into my arms and shouted.
I wouldn’t let him leave.
Eventually, I told Natalie that I wasn’t there to remove Oliver. However, I was also adamant that I would have to take legal action if she did that again.
On the one hand, I believe I can relate to Natalie’s anguish and anxiety at the prospect of losing her kid. It didn’t make sense, though. I would have told her that I was glad Oliver would be a big brother if I had had the chance.
In order to resolve any unresolved concerns from our divorce, I have requested that Natalie and I attend therapy.
She has received a lot of support from Mike, and I am thankful that he called me and told me the truth because if anyone had to be my son’s stepfather, it would be him.
Oliver and I were so far apart back home that it was intolerable. I could no longer allow that to be our reality. I flipped through job postings on my laptop. The matter was beyond doubt.
My son and I needed to be nearer.
And shortly.
My thoughts were, “Next time, Natalie,” “I won’t be so far away.”
Let me tell you another story. Before noticing something strange one day, Hank was certain that his marriage was happy. Hank saw that the wife spent a lot of money on pediatricians, baby supplies, and other expenses while looking over her bills. However, the couple’s lack of children was the issue. He discovered that she was living two lives.
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