2 Weeks Later...
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The limo pulled up to pick up Simone, Natasha and Natasha's mother, Diane in front of Natasha & Tyrone's home. The children were being kept behind and away from the cameras that had been posted outside of her home for the last week.
Ever since the details surrounding the suicide came out, Natasha had been bombarded with phone calls, emails, threats, and even women looking to get paid from Tyrone for child support. Each with a more sordid sob story than the last. It was all taking its toll on her physically and emotionally. She looked like hell. She hadn't slept or ate since the body was found and her entire world was torn upside and inside out.
Simone grabbed her friend's hand as they got ready to make their way outside, ready to brave the flashing lights in the mid-afternoon sun. Surprisingly, it was a beautiful day in Columbus, Ohio. Almost picture perfect, if it weren't for the circumstances.
Natasha grabbed her mother's hand with the one free one she had left and the three women walked out onto the front porch to throngs of screaming reporters shoving phones in their faces, asking for a soundbite for the evening news.
Natasha's lawyer, high profile, local attorney, Mike Sanchez, pushed his way through the crowd and ushered the three women to the limo without incident. Tossing out "No Comments" like they were breath mints.
The media was furious, to say the least. They hadn't had a press or public statement from anyone In Natasha's family since the incident, and with all of the women and children coming out of the woodwork, her lawyers advised her it would be best to stay quiet and let everything play out in a court of law. Natasha was never used to this kind of attention. Negative or positive. She hated it. She felt violated and certainly not able to be of any comfort to her children. She was too paranoid that someone was going to snap a picture, or say the wrong thing and it was all going to come tumbling out.
Mike held the door open for them and put himself in between the cameras and the door, acting as a shield. He leaned in and whispered, grabbing Diane's hand as she was the closest to the door.
"I'm here for you guys. You stay strong. You're doing great. Today is going to be rough, but we are going to get through it together, and we are going to help you get on with your life. I promise you that."
He closed the door and tapped the top of the car to signal to the driver it was ok to pull off. Mike, chest puffed out, and a quick finger comb of his hair, turned around to immediately, and without a beat, answer press questions. Simone watched his large frame grow smaller until he was out of sight, from the rear-view window. Natasha was in her own world, while Diane sat wringing her hands, petrified for her grandchildren, concerned for the mental state of her daughter.
The limo pulled up to Scholssinger Funeral Home. The line was already around the building to get in and the press were taking unecessary room.
"These people are vultures!" Diane clucked, grasping the handerchief in her lap even tighter.
Natasha was ready to have the limo driver turn around and Simone could see it all over her face.
She grabbed her friend and held her close.
"You got this, do you hear me?" Simone fought back her own tears.
"You can do this, Natasha. You go in there with your held held high and you take your life back. Grieve, and move on. You have to do this for your own healing, or you will never be right, girl and I can't let you go out like that!"
Natasha shook her head yes. She knew Simone was right.
She looked up in to her mother's face who only nodded with a glisten of a tear in her eye, to confirm. She told the limo driver to park where the funeral home and Mike had arranged earlier so she could come in the side entrance.
Taking a deep breath, saying a silent yet quick prayer, she exited the limo. Natasha did not wait for Simone or her mother this time, this part of the journey was her own.
The over-crowded semi-silent funeral home grew with whispers as she walked up the aisle from the back of the room, Natasha seemed to appear from out of nowhere, having been ushered through the side double doors that led to the back of the building where her limo sat.
Barely keeping her held high, Diane's voice cheering her on in her head. she put one foot in front of the other, without thinking.
“A strong woman stands up for herself. A stronger woman stands up for everybody else.”
Natasha's stride had purpose, a straight laser focus upon her face, thinly masked by a small veil attached to her hat. She subconsciously heard someone in the back, say, "Bless her Lord!", and someone hiss, "Shame on you" as she got closer to the front. She could see his dark blue suit in contrast to the white interior.
Natasha, almost felt as if she were looking down at herself from the ceiling; not feeling any emotions, yet aware of her own body moving, none-the-less. Her hand ran across the silk ruffles of the interior. It felt much softer than she had imagined.
Aside from her grandparent's when she was in preschool, she had never been to a funeral of anyone close enough to touch the casket. The timing of this revelation was almost absurd enough to make her cry out.
She stared down at him, tears streaming down her face. With one silent question on her mind, as her strong will to shake the answer out of him in front of this entire room crept over her.
"Why did you have to kill yourself in my house and ruin my life, and my marriage?"
Derek looked good despite the golf ball sized hole in his temple that Natasha had saw when she discovered his body in her bed almost a week ago. He also wasn't naked with a pair of her panties in his hand either.
Yes, you could say he looked completely unrecognizable from the last time she laid eyes on him. She undoubtedly knew that Tyrone was somewhere drunk, smelling like a human garbage can, crying about his lover.
Natasha had obviously put him out of her house, the night she found out about them, and things spiraled out of control pretty quickly, leading up to Derek losing his P.I. practice and Tyrone all in the same time-frame. It was too much for him to bear.
Derek had no family members, and no one to bury him. Natasha paid for the entire funeral. Mike, her attorney, was in the process of helping her get full custody of her children and sell her unsaleable home.
Diane was there to help her take care of the children and get back on her feet. Not able to sleep in her own bedroom, the walls still tinged with Derek's blood, Natasha had a hell of a long fight on her hands. Luckily she had a great support system to help her through.
She laid the rose on Derek's chest and walked out with her head held just a little higher than when she came in.
Let the healing begin.
THE END
You've worked hard all week. Helped the kids with their homework. Did the laundry, cleaned the house, worked a 40 hour work week, cooked Sunday dinner - now it's some "me" time. Grab you a glass of wine and unwind with a weekly tale.
M.I.L.F. & Cookies is dedicated to all the underdogs out there. The women who are underappreciated, doubted, ignored, counted out and mistreated. No matter what age you are, if you have children and doing your best to hold your own, there's a woman out there who shares your struggle. These fictional tales are based on real women, with some details changed to protect their identity. It's real outchea!
Each week, for 4 weeks total in each short story, you'll follow a new M.I.L.F, going through some real shit. Something some of us can relate to these stories and experiences, in some cases we can feel them on a personal level. I hope you enjoy the drama, the suspense and the cliffhangers. If you want to be the source for a M.I.L.F. story, I'll gladly change your name, and details about you to keep you anonymous.
See you Sunday.