The Spare Phone Held Years Of Spare Love Chapter 05

The Spare Phone Held Years Of Spare Love Chapter 05

[Nellie, 

Today, Daddy heard your heartbeat for the first 

time. 

The doctor placed the Doppler against Mommy’s belly, and the whole room filled with that sound. It 

was like a tiny train. 

Mommy cried. 

Daddy didn’t cry, but the hand holding Mommy’s 

trembled for a long time. 

You have a mother who loves you very much. 

She has played the cello for twenty–three years. There are calluses on her hands, but when she 

plays, she looks like she is glowing. 

The first time Daddy saw her was at a New Year’s 

concert eight years ago. 

She played Dvořák’s Cello Concerto in B minor. 

The second movement. 

That movement is slow, like someone telling a 

very long story. 

Daddy didn’t know what her story was. 

But in that moment, Daddy wanted to be part of it. 

Nellie, Daddy won’t say these things to Mommy in person. 

She gets shy too easily. Two sentences and she starts blushing. 

When you grow up, if Daddy ever makes Mommy mad, you have to help Daddy ask for forgiveness. 

Nellie, today Mommy bought your first pair of baby shoes. 

They’re white, with two little bears on the soles. 

She held them up and asked me if they were cute. 

I said they were. 

The truth is, I barely saw what the shoes looked 

like. 

I only saw her smile. 

Nellie, when Mommy smiles, her eyes turn into 

little crescents. 

All Daddy wants in this life is to keep her smiling 

like that. 

Nellie, today Daddy made a decision. 

Maybe you’ll blame Daddy one day. Maybe your 

won’t. 

But Daddy has to do this. 

Because of you. 

Because of Mommy. 

And because what I owe you and Mommy can never be repaid in this lifetime. 

Nellie, if one day Daddy can’t be by your side, 

remember to take care of Mommy for me. 

Tell her the best thing that ever happened to Daddy in this life was meeting her.] 

I put the phone down. 

Outside the window, the sky was almost light. 

I sat on the edge of the bed for a long time. 

Long enough for my knees to stiffen. Long enough 

for Ethan to turn over and murmur my name in his 

sleep. 

“Claire… what time is it…” 

I didn’t answer. 

He soon fell asleep again. 

I looked at the back of his head. 

This man had written a letter in his notes app to 

the child he was having with another woman.. 

He wrote about the night he met her. 

He wrote that when she smiled, her eyes crinkled 

into little crescent moons. 

He wrote that the best thing that had ever 

happened to him was meeting her. 

He had named that unborn child Nellie. 

He had never once spoken of me, or of our future, 

with that kind of care. 

In six years of marriage, he called me Claire. 

His colleagues called me Mrs. Bennett. 

Only my father had ever called me his little Claire. 

And my father had been gone for five years. 

I put the phone back on the nightstand. 

Ethan slept deeply, completely unaware. 

When he left in the morning, he called to me from 

the entryway. 

“Claire, it’s raining today. Don’t forget an umbrella.” 

I answered once. 

The door closed. 

I got up, packed all of his electronic devices into a suitcase, and called Ms. Parker. 

“Keep digging into what we found last time.” 

“How far do you want me to go?” 

“All the way.” 

Three days later, Ms. Parker gave me the second 

report. 

Ethan Bennett had one hidden account under his 

name. 

Over the past five years, a total of six hundred thousand dollars had been transferred out. 

Recipient: Laurel. 

Purpose: not listed. 

Ms. Parker spread a stack of bank statements in front of me. 

“Mrs. Bennett,” she said, “this is no longer just an 

affair.” 

I stared at the numbers. 

Six hundred thousand dollars. 

When Ethan and I got married, his parents‘ old house had sold for nearly three hundred thousand 

dollars, and he had handled all of it. 

When my father passed, he left me eighty–seven thousand dollars. I put it into our joint account. 

He had worked for ten years. 

I had worked for eight. 

That was everything we had. 

Ms. Parker asked, “What do you plan to do?” 

I stacked the bank statements one by one. 

“Sue him.” 

She paused. 

“For what?” 

“Marital fraud,” I said. “Concealment and transfer 

of marital assets. Fraudulent gifts.” 

She looked at me and said nothing. 

I put the documents into a file folder. 

“Ms. Parker, do you know what the funniest part 

is?” 

She shook her head. 

“He wasn’t broke.” I zipped the folder shut. “He had money for her condo, her car, even the principal cello chair in the orchestra.” 

“But when it came to me, all he had left was one 

line about wanting to surprise me.” 

Outside, the rain had stopped. 

I picked up the file folder and stood. 

“Let’s take it to court.”