Off The Record
I Went To Pick Up My Wife And Our Newborn Twins From The Hospital—But She Was Gone, Leaving Only A Note
I was devastated to discover that Suzie had left a mysterious message when I arrived at the hospital to pick up my wife and the newborn twins. I learned the sinister secrets that split my family apart as I balanced taking care of the infants with discovering the truth.
The balloons bobbed next to me in the passenger seat as I drove to the hospital. I couldn’t stop smiling. I was taking my girls home today!
When Suzie saw the nursery, the meal I had prepared, and the pictures I had framed for the mantle, I couldn’t wait to see her smile. After nine hard months of morning sickness, back pain, and an unending round of my controlling mother’s ideas, she deserved to be happy.
It was the realization of all my dreams about us.
I rushed to Suzie’s room and waved to the nurses at the station. But I froze in shock when I pushed through the door.
Suzie was gone, but my daughters were in their bassinets asleep. Before I noticed the note, I assumed she had gone outside for some fresh air. With shaky hands, I ripped it open.
“Goodbye. Look after them. Find out why your mother did this to me.”
As I read it again, the world became hazy. And read it again. There was no change, no transformation of the words into something less awful. I was frozen in place as a chill ran along my skin.
What on earth was she trying to say? Why would she? No. This was not possible. Suzie was content. She had been content. Had she not?
A nurse came into the room with a clipboard. “Good morning, sir, here’s the discharge —”
“Where’s my wife?” I cut you off.
The nurse bit her lip in hesitation. The woman left this morning. “You knew,” she said.
“She — where did she go?” I waved the note and stumbled over to the nurse. Was there anything else she said? Was she angry?
The nurse scowled. “She appeared to be alright. Just be quiet. Do you mean that you were unaware?”
I gave a headshake. “She remained silent. simply left me this message.”
With my girls in my arms and the note crumpled in my fist, I walked out of the hospital in a haze.
Suzie had left. The lady I thought I knew, my wife, my companion, had abruptly disappeared. That foreboding message, my broken plans, and two little kids were all I had.
My mother, Mandy, was waiting on the porch with a casserole dish in her hand and a big smile on her face when I pulled into the driveway. I could smell the aroma of cheesy potatoes, but it didn’t calm the storm that was building inside of me.
“Oh, let me see my grandbabies!” she cried, putting down the plate and coming sprinting over to me. “They’re beautiful, Ben, absolutely beautiful.”
I took a step back, keeping the car seat in place for protection. “Not yet, Mom.”
Her brow knitted in perplexity as her face wavered. “What’s wrong?”
I thrust the note toward her. “This is the issue! You did what to Suzie?”
Her smile disappeared, and her fingers trembled as she took the note. She briefly appeared as though she would pass out as her pale blue eyes examined the words.
Mom said, “I don’t know what this is about, Ben. She’s been emotional throughout her life. Perhaps she—”
“Don’t lie to me!” My voice reverberated off the porch walls as the words burst forth. “You’ve never been fond of her. You’ve always managed to bash her and discredit her —”
“I’ve only ever tried to help!” Tears streamed down her cheeks as her voice broke.
With my stomach roiling, I turned away. I no longer trusted anything she said. Suzie had left because of whatever had transpired between them. It was up to me to pick up the pieces now.
After placing Callie and Jessica in their cribs that evening, I sat at the kitchen table holding a whiskey in one hand and the message in the other. The question that kept repeating in my head was, “What did you do, Mom?” notwithstanding my mother’s protests.
I recalled our family get-togethers and the little jabs my mother would hurl at Suzie. I could understand now, too late, how they must have hurt Suzie, even if she had laughed them off.
I began to dig, both physically and figuratively.
As I went through my wife’s belongings, my grief and longing for her grew stronger. After locating her jewelry box in the closet and putting it aside, I saw a piece of paper poking out from under the lid.
Upon opening it, I saw a letter written by my mother to Suzie. As I read, my heart raced:
“My son will never be satisfied with you, Suzie. With this pregnancy, you’ve ensnared him, but don’t believe you can mislead me. You’ll go before you destroy their life if you truly care about them.”
As I dropped the letter, my hand trembled. It was this. She had left for this reason. Behind my back, my mother had been tearing her down. I relived every exchange, every instance I had written off as unimportant. How had I been blind?
Even though it was getting close to midnight, I didn’t mind. I went to knock on the door of the guest room until Mom opened it.
“How could you?” I gestured to her with the letter. “All this time, I thought you were just being overbearing, but no, you’ve been bullying Suzie for years, haven’t you?”
She studied the message with a pallid face. “Ben, listen to me —”
“No!” I interrupted her. “You pay attention to me. You’re the reason Suzie left. since you gave her a sense of worthlessness. Now that she’s gone, I’m here attempting to raise two children by myself.”
Whispering, “I only wanted to protect you,” she said. “She wasn’t good enough —”
“She is my children’s mother! You have no right to determine who is suitable for either them or me. Mom, you’re done here. Gather your belongings. Leave.”
She started crying uncontrollably. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do,” I responded, my voice as icy as iron.
She started to argue but stopped herself. She must have realized I wasn’t bluffing based on the expression in my eyes. An hour later, she drove off, her car vanishing down the street.
The weeks that followed were terrible.
I hardly had time to ponder since I was constantly crying—sometimes for myself, sometimes for the babies—and dealing with filthy diapers and restless nights.
But every silent moment reminded me of Suzie. In an attempt to find out where she could be, I reached out to her friends and relatives. She had not contacted any of them. However, Sara, a buddy from college, paused before speaking.
“She talked about feeling… trapped,” Sara acknowledged over the phone. “By everything, not by you, Ben. Your mother, the pregnancy. On one occasion, she informed me that Mandy had stated that the twins would be better off without her.”
The blade twisted farther. “Why didn’t she tell me my mom was saying these things to her?”
“Ben, she was afraid. She feared that Mandy might turn on you. I advised her to speak with you, but… Sara’s voice broke.” I apologize. I ought to have exerted more effort.
“Do you think she’s okay?”
“I hope so,” Sara said. “Suzie is more resilient than she realizes. But Ben, don’t give up on finding her.”
Months passed.
My phone buzzed one afternoon while Jessica and Callie were sleeping. The text came from an unidentified number.
The moment I opened it, I gasped. It was a picture of Suzie, calm and pale, holding the twins at the hospital. There was a message underneath it:
“I wish I were the kind of mother they are entitled to.” I hope you’ll pardon me.
I dialed the number right away, but it was unsuccessful.
I returned the text, but that was unsuccessful as well. It was like yelling into thin air. But my resolve was rekindled by the picture. There was Suzie. Even though she was obviously still in a poor place, she was still alive and at least a part of her still yearned for us. Never would I give up on her.
There were no leads or hints as to Suzie’s whereabouts for a whole year. It was a sorrowful first birthday for the twins. I had given parenting them my all, but the pain for Suzie remained.
The girls were playing in the living room that night when someone knocked on the door.
At first, I assumed I was dreaming. Suzie was standing there with tears in her eyes and a small present bag in her hand. Her posture was more assured, her cheeks were rounder, and she appeared healthier. However, the melancholy lingered behind her grin.
Whispering, “I’m sorry,” she said.
I didn’t consider it. I drew her into my embrace and held her as firmly as I could. I felt complete for the first time in a year as she sobbed into my shoulder.
In the weeks that followed, Suzie confided in me about how her feelings of inadequacy, my mom’s harsh remarks, and postpartum depression had overtaken her.
She had left to keep the twins safe and to get away from the downward spiral of sorrow and self-loathing. One painful step at a time, therapy had assisted her in rebuilding.
“I didn’t want to leave,” she remarked one evening when the girls were sleeping on the nursery floor. “But I didn’t know how to stay.”
I grasped her hand. “We’ll work things out. Together.”
And we did. It was difficult; healing is never simple. However, love, tenacity, and the mutual delight of seeing Callie and Jessica blossom were sufficient to restore what we had nearly lost.
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