Three months after my husband went missing in a skiing accident, I saw him at a bar. He had his arm slung around "sis-bro" Jamie's shoulder, laughing like he was free from a life sentence. “Thanks to you, dude,” he was saying, "I was starting to forget what real freedom felt like." His bros were buying him shots, one after another, asking when he was going to surface. He thought for a second, "I'll give it another week, maybe. Let her sweat it out a bit, you know, drive her crazy before I show my face again." I was standing in the shadows, watching him bask in his 'freedom', and dialed my friend at the county records office. 1. “I’m going to have Mark Harrison declared legally deceased,” I said, my voice tight. “You're not going to keep looking?” my friend asked, hesitating. I looked up at Mark, who was now whispering something to Jamie, and my eyes stung. “There’s no point.” You can’t find someone who doesn’t want to be found. I hung up and went back to my booth. My bestie, Sarah, saw my face and shoved a drink into my hand. “Look, honey, Mark’s been gone for three months. The odds of him being alive are basically zero. You need to let go, move on.” I stared at the colorful drink in my glass and downed it in one go. The burn of the liquor made my eyes water, and I blinked back the tears, asking, “Do you think anyone would fake their own death to get away from their wife?” She looked at me like I’d sprouted a second head. "What kind of crazy talk is that? Only a real dirtbag would pull a stunt like that. He’d be better off actually dead!” I wiped away the tears and grabbed my purse. “You’re right, I need to let him go.” I left and went home. The house was silent. It’d been this way for three months. I hated the silence. I’d started leaving all the lights on, brewing a cup of his favorite tea and putting it on the coffee table, pretending he was still there. I just didn't understand. If he didn't want to be married to me anymore, he could have just filed for divorce. Why fake a skiing accident and disappear? I sat on the couch and picked up the two cartoonish figurines of us he'd given me. “When I’m not here," he’d said, grinning, "these little guys can keep you company." His words clashed with the annoyed tone I’d heard at the bar. “Chloe was sweet and chill before we got married, but now she’s way too clingy. This fake-out will teach her a lesson and she’ll lay off.” Jamie had poured him another shot. “Well, at least I never cling to you! We've been buds for years.” “You’re the best, man,” he'd replied. They called themselves “bros” but their legs were intertwined. The thought made my stomach churn. I chucked the figurines in the trash and grabbed my phone, sending a mass text: Mark Harrison passed away in an accident three months ago. Memorial service next week. Mark’s buddies started hammering me with texts, full of outrage. “How can you have a funeral if you haven’t found his body?” “Chloe, have you lost it? Mark's not dead!” “If Mark comes back and sees his own memorial service he’s gonna lose it! Chloe, think this through, do you want to make Mark angry?” I didn't reply to the first texts, only to the last: “He’s dead. He’s beyond being angry now.” I tossed my phone aside and started packing up Mark’s stuff. For the past three months, I had been searching for him in the mountain town where he was “skiing,” and barely been home. The bedroom was mostly as we'd left it. I opened his closet and froze. His clothes were gone, like half of them, and all that was left were the items he’d never wear at this time of year. Tears started to fall. I had spent three months looking for him, and he’d been sneaking back here to grab his crap whenever I wasn't around. 2. I pulled up the security footage and fast-forwarded through the last month. At the start of the month, Mark had walked in with his arm around Jamie, leaving two hours later with a ton of clothes. Mid-month, he’d carried Jamie into the house, and Jamie hadn't left till the morning. A couple of nights ago, they'd come home under the cover of darkness, leaving early yesterday morning. I had been looking for him in the next state over when these things had happened. I watched the screen as tears streamed down my face, not for Mark, but for myself. How had I fallen for such a scum bag? I had been losing sleep, worrying about him, while he and his "bro" were sleeping in my house, maybe even my bed. I clenched my fist and willed myself not to start hyperventilating. The phone rang. I didn’t want to answer but it kept ringing. I took a deep breath, got up and looked at the caller ID. It was Mark's uncle, Ben Harrison. I quickly answered. “Uncle Ben, is everything okay?” “Mark’s not dead.” He sent a video. It was Mark and Jamie doing a sake bomb, their eyes glued to one another. My breath hitched, and my fingers trembled as I spoke. “I know he’s not dead.” The man sounded surprised, but then laughed. “Then why are you planning a funeral?” “Everyone kept saying he was dead. I wanted to believe it. So, he gets a funeral.” Ben was silent for a second. “So you’re saying you’re widowed?” “Yeah,” I replied. Ben Harrison was Mark's uncle by adoption, and I barely knew him. He was the first person to tell me straight up that Mark was alive. I felt like I owed him something for that. “If you’re free next week, you can come to the service.” “I will.” Then another video came through. Mark’s friends are showing him something on their phone and he throws his drink. Jamie puts her hand on his chest like she’s trying to calm him down. The bar was too loud for me to hear, but I could see Mark's face soften. He even buried his face in Jamie’s shoulder. He must have seen my mass text, and he got pissed. And, somehow, just a few words from Jamie had soothed him. Whenever he got mad at me, he’d make me spend the night thinking about what I did wrong. Only then he would forgive me. I closed my eyes, saved the videos, and set the phone down. Right then, Jamie called. I answered, and the loud music in the background nearly deafened me. Jamie was shouting. “Chloe! Are you planning a memorial service for Mark? Are you crazy? Cancel that thing now! If he ever sees it when he comes back, you’ll be sorry!” Before she finished, I hung up, grabbed a blanket, and crashed on the couch. It was the first good sleep I’d had in three months. The next morning, I went down to the courthouse to get Mark declared officially deceased. Once I got the paperwork, I went to Jamie’s place. Her front door was closed, and it took me several tries on the doorbell before I heard footsteps. She was wearing a silk robe, leaning against the doorframe, and there was evidence of a good time all over her neck and collarbone. “Oh, it’s you. What do you want?” I glanced at her neck, then her face, which held nothing but contempt. “I wanted to invite you to Mark’s memorial service. Seeing as you were his ‘best bro’ after all.” Jamie rolled her eyes and sneered. “Chloe, you’re his wife. He went missing three months ago. Instead of looking for him, you’re just planning a funeral? “What if he’s not dead? Are you trying to wish him into his grave? What kind of a wife does that?” I pulled the death certificate from my bag, laughing. “He's been under the snow for three months. I couldn't find him, so he's officially dead now.” “That’s what everyone told me to do. To move on.” When I’d gotten the bad news, I’d fainted. The next morning all of Mark's friends were sitting around my bed. "Honey, the area he went missing is really dangerous, it’s going to be hard to find anyone. Maybe you should just give up.” "Yeah, it's a lost cause." I’d gotten up, booked a ticket, hired a rescue team and headed to the mountains. For two and a half weeks I didn’t sleep or eat. I hadn’t noticed then, how there wasn’t any panic in any of his so-called friend’s eyes. Just amusement. Jamie’s jaw dropped, and then I heard a crash from inside her apartment. She glared at me and warned, “Don’t pull anything stupid. When Mark gets back you’ll be sorry!” I ignored her, like I had the night before, and walked away. 3. The argument from behind her door was loud. Now that he heard that I declared him officially deceased, Mark was starting to lose his mind. But I wasn't going to let him find me. If he could disappear for three months, I could certainly be gone for a few days. I grabbed a packed bag and asked Sarah to book a hotel room for me using her name and ID. I've been hiding out at the hotel for the past few days, buying funeral supplies and that's it. Sarah showed up looking smug. “I hear some dude is tearing up the city looking for you. Dude's flipped out. They're all over the news." I watched the news, seeing a missing person poster with Mark’s face and smiled. “He can look all he wants. I won’t let him find me. When he said he wanted to make me sweat and then come back, why is he sweating now?” “He deserves it, the jerk. Why does the world have such awful men in it?” She was getting worked up, and I had to cut her off, "Hey, it's my husband's funeral today, I'm supposed to be sad, remember?" I got out my makeup bag, and turned myself into a hollow, sad, wreck. Once Sarah was certain I looked miserable enough, we left for the funeral. On the way, I gave her a USB drive with all the videos of Mark and Jamie, and told her to play it when I gave the signal. Only then did I send out the funeral address. First to arrive was Ben. He stepped out of his black car and took a white flower from me, pinning it to his lapel. "My condolences." Next came the clueless relatives. Their grief was genuine, and it made my heart ache. Mark, you fake your own death, and you hurt the people who actually care about you. Today, you’ll pay for it. Finally, his “bros” arrived. They all looked pale and sick, and their hands trembled when they took their flowers. One of them dragged me to the side. “Hey, honey, you need to stop this! Mark is not dead! He’s going insane looking for you! Have you seen the missing person posters?” I blinked, and let out two tears. “Don’t try to cheer me up, those missing posters were Jamie’s idea.” "A dead man cannot return to life. I’ve given up hope that he will." He tried to say something but I nodded to Sarah, who grabbed his arm and sat him down. Once everyone had arrived, I got up on stage, and adjusted the mic. “Thank you all for coming to the memorial service for my late husband...” A scream cut me off. “Chloe! What the hell are you doing? I said Mark isn’t dead!” Jamie was standing at the entrance, glaring at me. “Are you even his wife? How can you have a funeral when he’s been missing for three months? I won’t let you!” I looked behind her. Mark wasn’t there. So, even now Mark still wasn’t going to show his face. I glared back at Jamie, “You won’t let me? Who are you to tell me what to do? You just said it yourself, I’m his wife.” Jamie stared at me, tears filling her eyes. “How can you be so cruel? Mark loves you so much. How can you just declare him dead like that?” “What if he isn’t?” My eyes went to her marked neck and I smiled. "Even if he isn’t, I don’t want to waste my time on a cheater.” I had Jamie dragged off to a side and continued with the service. I was about to say something when a disheveled looking man appeared at the door. “Honey, I’m not dead! I’m back!”
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