He Plays Dead, and I Make It Real

Three months after my husband, Josiah Erikson, disappears in a skiing accident, I spot him in a bar.

He's laughing freely with an arm slung casually around his "best friend", Monica Jones' shoulders. "Good thing you came up with the idea. I'd almost forgotten what freedom feels like."

One after another, his buddies clink glasses with him and ask about when he plans to reappear.

He looks down and thinks about it before saying, "In a week. I'll show up once she's gone completely crazy searching for me."

Standing in the shadows, I watch him savor his freedom, then call my friend who works at the state vital records office.

"I've decided to have Josiah removed from the records," I announced.

"Are you giving up the search?" my friend, who worked at the state vital records office, hesitantly asked.

I looked up at Josiah Erikson, who was leaning close to whisper something in Monica Jones' ear. My eyes burned with tears, and my voice was all choked up. "I can't find him."

What was the point of finding someone who wanted to stay lost?

After hanging up, I turned and returned to my private room.

When my best friend, Carissa Caldwell, noticed my grim expression, she shoved a drink into my hand. "Josiah's been missing for three months, Nicole. Chances of him being alive are close to zero, so you have to move on."

I stared at the brightly colored liquid in the glass, tipped my head back, and drained everything in one go.

The burn immediately brought tears to my eyes. I blinked hard, swallowed the heartache, and softly asked, "Would someone ever fake their disappearance just to lie to their wife?"

Carissa shot me a look of pity and rage. "What kind of nonsense is that? Anyone who does that is a monster who might as well be dead."

Wiping my tears, I picked up my bag from the couch. "You're right. It's time I let Josiah go."

Then, I left and returned home.

The apartment was as silent as ever. For the past three months, I'd dreaded the silence.

Every night I came back, I'd turn on all the lights, brew a cup of black tea Josiah always drank, and set it on the coffee table to pretend that he was still there.

I couldn't understand. If he didn't want to live with me anymore, he could have just asked for a divorce. Why would he stage a skiing accident and disappear?

I sank onto the couch and picked up the collectible mini-figures of us that sat on the table. Josiah had once leaned against me and smiled as he pointed at them.

"When I'm not around, they can keep you company instead."

His past words overlapped with his irritated voice from the bar. "Nicole used to be gentle and lovely. I'm not sure why, but after we got married, she became so clingy.

"Faking my death will teach her a lesson, so maybe she'll learn not to stick to me as much."

Beside him, Monica topped off his drink. "I'm the better friend, aren't I? We've been buddies for years, and I've never clung to you."

"Yeah. You're my best buddy," he said. Though they talked like best friends and siblings, their legs were tangled together beneath the table.

The thought of the scene made my stomach churn. I tossed the mini-figures into the trash before picking up my phone to mass text.

"Josiah Erikson passed away in an accident three months ago. A farewell ceremony will be held in one week."

Almost immediately, his so-called buddies bombarded me with angry questions.

"How can you hold a funeral when we haven't found Josiah?"

"Have you lost your mind, Nicole? Josiah isn't dead!"

"If Josiah comes back and sees his funeral, he'll be furious! Think about it—do you have the guts to make him mad?"