Page 115 of The Auction
Couldn’t tell you that right away because I knew you would kill me. (If you’re showing this to anyone, that’s an inside joke. Jules would never kill me. She loves me something stupid.)
I had an idea that might pull us out of the hole from the crop failing. If it works, I’ll be back. If it doesn’t, you’ll be notified of my death and the will should make it possible for you to move on if you want to sell. But you’ll have all my savings and my pension to fall back on if you want to try and keep the place. It would be a shame to let it go.
Other than that, not much else to say.
“NOT MUCH ELSE TO FUCKING SAY!!! YOU DICKWAD!” I shouted, at the top of my lungs.
I would have ripped the letter into shreds in that very second if it didn’t include his will and the logins and passwords to our banking information.
Stomping on the floor, the paper dangling from my hands, I couldn’t contain how pissed I was.
“You motherfucker! Mother. Fucker!”
I needed to break something. I needed to throw something.
What the fuck did that mean I would be notifiedof his death?
Death!
He was just supposed to have left me. Taken his truck and his things and…
Wait. This entire week I hadn’t even…
I ran back to our bedroom and threw open his dresser drawers.
His shirts, his socks, his fucking underwear. It was all still there. Maybe a few pairs of each were missing, because the drawers weren’t as stuffed with his shit as they normally were when I put away the laundry.
All this time, I’d hadn’t taken off his stupid t-shirt because I hadn’t wanted to lose his scent.
Now the smell of him practically punched me in the face.
He hadn’t taken his shit. He’d left me all his money.
I lifted the letter which was still clutched in my hand to try and make sense of this.
I had an idea that might pull us out of the hole from the crop failing. If it works, I’ll be back. If it doesn’t, you’ll be notified of my death…
What did that even mean?
Holy shit. Project work. From when his old boss had been in town looking for him. That’s what he called it. Project work.
That’s what he’d done. He’d taken a job. A job he hadn’t wanted to even know about.
An obviously dangerous job if the only two options were coming back or…
DYING!
Motherfucker!
I looked at the letter again. I saw the logins, the passwords.
His name at the bottom. And more parentheses.
Creed (I love you stupid, too)
What the fuck was with this guy dropping all the good stuff in between parentheses?
Stripping off his stupid shirt, I walked into the bathroom. I was so mad now, I didn’t even want to be sad about losing him. I turned on the water in the shower, waited until it got really hot, then tried to burn his smell off my skin.
