The 23 and Me results came back on a Saturday morning. I’m gonna tell you what was on them. But first you need to know who these people are.
My name’s Maureen.
I do the books at a plumbing supply store in Decatur, Georgia. I’ve been there going on fourteen years and honestly the most useful thing about the job is I know what a marital asset disclosure looks like. I married Dale when I was 29.
He was 31. We met at a potluck at his cousin’s church and he brought baked beans from a can but at least he brought something, you know? Decent man.
Or I thought he was. We had Nolan, he’s 19 now, away at Georgia State. And then Bridget.
Bridget is 14.
Dale’s mother passed the year before our wedding. Cancer. So it was just Dale and Gerald after that.
Gerald is Dale’s father. He’s 78 now. Retired but he sits on the board of a logistics company.
He was always around. Always. Holidays, birthdays, random Wednesdays.
He’d just let himself in with the key Dale gave him when we bought the house and sit in Dale’s chair — David’s chair, actually, we bought it from an estate sale and it was labeled David’s Chair and we never changed the name — and watch ESPN until dinner.
He was charming. That Southern gentleman thing. Called me “sweetheart.” Brought peaches from the farmer’s market.
Told me my pot roast was better than his late wife’s. I thought that was just Gerald. I thought that was just his generation.
After the service she just held me on the porch while I ugly-cried into her good coat. ‘I won’t let you sink,’ she kept saying. And at the time I believed her.
Wait.
That’s not right. That’s about Deborah. I’m jumping around.
Let me get back to it.
Three years ago Dale got promoted. VP of Operations. $47,000 signing bonus.
I remember sitting at the kitchen table with the offer letter thinking, this is a lot of money for a man who barely finished community college. I’m not being mean. Dale knows he’s not a details guy.
He’s a good talker and a hard worker but VP? With a $47,000 signing bonus? I didn’t say anything.
I just ran the numbers like a good bookkeeper and put the money toward Nolan’s tuition, Bridget’s braces, and the roof that was leaking into the guest bathroom every time it rained.
I should have asked questions. I know that now.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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