Page 2 of Red River

Two hours later, we were back home. My mind was a mess, and I couldn’t stop crying. It felt like my whole world had been annihilated. My husband was gone, and this strange change had come over my son.

On top of that, another worry kept creeping in—the reality of how bad Thomas’s business situation was.

He used to mumble under his breath that things weren’t great, but he’d manage, and we’d get back on track. When he said it, I wanted to believe him—for the sake of my own mental health. But now, that he was gone, it was starting to hit me that his words might’ve been just the tip of the iceberg.

As Thomas’s obesity increasingly limited his mobility, he began managing the company remotely. Employee morale declined, and with it, the quality of services suffered.

For all those years, I put in enormous effort to help him by managing the entire customer service office alone, but it was an exhausting grind. The business was struggling more and more, and angry clients called every day. After a while, I started to hate the job.

My stress levels were through the roof, and the thought of taking over the entire operation felt unbearable. Something inside me resisted. I already had to raise the kids on my own, care for an almost immobile Thomas, and now I was supposed to be a businessman on top of it all? And what about him? This was Thomas’s responsibility—he was the one who started the business.

I never had a knack for it: dealing with sassy employees, closing deals with difficult clients, arguing with suppliers,and fighting through endless paperwork. I despised it with everything I had, I was a musician at heart. Sadly, working for Thomas’s company had kept me from following my passion, forcing me to do all the things I hated.

Now, I had no choice. The dreaded call to our accountant was about to happen—to hear his detailed report on just how bad things really were.

After putting the younger kids to bed, while avoiding checking what Igor was doing, I stepped onto the balcony with my phone to call Sam.

Sam was my best friend—practically my only friend—the one person who stuck around despite everything. He tolerated the situation with Thomas when everyone else was disgusted by him and drifted away.

I’d heard it a million times: "River, this man will drag you down. He’s a loser. He says he adores you, but does he do things to make sure you are safe? Is this supposed to be love or just empty words? You have five kids, you’re killing yourself working overtime for him, and he’s just not a good businessman!"They all tried to reason with me.

But they didn’t get it. Or maybe it was me who chose to be deaf. To me, Thomas was a good, gentle husband who loved me and treated me like his fulfilled dream. I loved him too and wanted to be with him despite everything. So, eventually, all my friends gave up on my hopeless case and left.

Not Sam. He respected my choices, no matter how stupid they seemed to him, and was always there—offering support and a shoulder to cry on from time to time.

He already knew about Thomas’s death; I’d texted him earlier. But I needed to talk to him about Igor because I still couldn’t wrap my head around it.

"How are you feeling, River?" Sam’s tone was soft—just like always.

My voice cracked. "Terrible, Sam. I feel like I can’t breathe, like the ground’s falling out from under me."

There was a pause, just long enough for me to feel his sympathy through the silence. "My condolences. Oh my God, River, I’m so sorry."

I sighed, trying to shake off the crushing weight of… well, everything.

"I’m not fooling myself, Sam. I saw this day coming. Even though Thomas kept insisting he wasn’t in that bad of a condition. He got even more adamant about it after Andrew died. He told me back then that he had to hold on for three more years until Igor came of age. But he was deluding himself… A third heart attack! And the doctors warned me—it was only a matter of months."

Sam listened to me without interrupting, then said slowly, "I get that you’re trying to be sensible about it, but even when we know it’s coming, it’s impossible to be truly ready for something like this."

Silence hung between us, and as always, Sam was right. I’d spent years repeating in my head that it was imminent, trying to numb myself. And yet, it hit me hard.

After Thomas’s brother, Andrew, unexpectedly died two months earlier, I started having anxiety attacks—feeling trapped and terrified about our future. He was supposed to be Igor’s guardian in case anything happened to my husband. I pleaded with Thomas to address the situation, to find a new guardian, but he kept insisting we still had time.

Since Andrew's funeral, the only thing I’d managed to do was secure college funds for the kids—my intuition nagged me to get it done. But I hadn’t had a chance to resolve the guardianship issue.

Over the past two months, my frustration with Thomas grew, pushing the patience and love I still had for him intothe background. Week after week, I was consumed by anger, bitterness, and resentment. To the point, I even noticed his fearful reaction—the way Thomas tensed whenever I entered the room—his eyes darting away, his whole body shrinking. But I was scared too… terrified of exactly what has happened now.

Yes, I still loved him, but I’d been so disappointed in him—watching how he had completely given up. Seeing him sleep with an apnea mask, only to wake up and smoke in the middle of the night—it made me feel betrayed, like he didn’t care about us. Like his words of love were just empty.

One week before his death, I confronted him.

"Are you running away from me? From us? Have you given up? Our kids are counting on you! As their protector and provider…"

He looked at me with those sad, tired eyes—once bright blue, now pale and distant. "I’m weak, River. I’m ashamed I’m leaving you with all this mess. I couldn’t make the business work, and I was too proud to admit it."

A chill of realization ran down my spine. "My God, Thomas… So what now? You’re just checking out of life?" I snapped.

He didn’t answer.

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