Hopes and Happiness

Every argument comes with a price tag.

 

And the price I paid was losing a daughter.

 

In eleven years of marriage, I never lied to my wife. Well, not really. But never a lie that could hurt her or our marriage.

 

And now to break the holy vows, I spoke.

“Honey, I need to go on a business trip this weekend,” I said, peeping for my wife’s reply.

“But you just came back from one!” She replied.

“I know, but you know work and with the big promotion coming up, I can’t really say no to stuff…. so.”

There was no reply but I could hear her steps coming down from the hallway.

“When will you be back?” She stared at me with her severe eyes.

“Uh, I don’t know. Give or take two weeks.”

“Two weeks! Isn’t that way too long?”

“That’s what I thought, but like I said, babe, big promotion…. no fussing?”

“Alright. Where are you going by the way?”

“Some small town. Uh, new venture for the company.”

 

My sweat-beaded forehead and my thumping heartbeat made me push my way out of the house. The cold wintry air slapped my face with hard realization.

I was in big trouble.

About a month ago, I got a call from an insurance company, saying that I was being contacted for child support. It took me by surprise because my wife and I never had children. I asked the insurance woman to double check for names. She told me she did and well, I was the one with a child.

Imagine the chaos and the big thud that was in my head at that very moment. My head started to spin and my world came to a screeching halt.

I spent my next nights and days trying to track down from where this call was from. The insurance company would not give any names and I had decided to stay low, just in case, because if I caused a little too much noise, they would call home. And I would be rendered homeless. Hours turned to days and then to weeks. But I finally found who it could’ve been.

***

A three hour drain drive brought me to her. It was cold and the road was almost frozen. I walked carefully down the sidewalk, searching for her. I came across an old apartment building in the corner of the street. It was dark and it was a place I definitely didn’t want to be in. I took the horrifying staircase to the third floor. And I came to apartment 7 B.

I hesitated and knocked and wished with all my life that no one would answer.

But she did.

The door opened ajar.

“Who is it?” She said with her ever-soft voice. I found myself at a loss for words. I mumbled a word or two and just stood silent.

“Who is it? What do you want?”

“Uh, Carrie, it’s me,” I said, and waited.

 

She instantly realized it was me. The man she had been waiting on for twelve years.

“What are you doing here?” She said, still behind the door.

“I… I had to see you. Both of you.”

“Go away. I do not want to have you in my house.”

“Please,” I pleaded, looking straight into her eyes.

 

She let me in.

 

I entered the apartment and was appalled at the filthy conditions it was in. The lights were so dim I couldn’t even see her face clearly.

“How are you even living here?”

“It’s all I can afford.”

“Let me help you. You need to get out of this place.”

“I’m happy where I am. We are happy. And since when do you care?”

“So, I’m at fault here? You’re the one who didn’t tell me about my own daughter!”

“There is no need to yell.”

“Where is she?” I saw her escaping my gaze. “Please, I need to meet her. She’s my daughter too.”

 

She led me to her room and asked me to silently see. I could go as close to her as the door would allow me to. And then I looked at her. She looked angel-like as she slept. Layla, she’d named her. I could not see her properly in the poor lighting but it was enough.

 

We walked back to the hall.

“So, child support?” I asked.

“Yes. You think I can support her and myself in these conditions? I know I didn’t want to get you involved but in such times, and such conditions…” She paused.

“Such conditions? Are you two okay?” She stayed silent and with every increasing second, it became harder to breathe, with unimaginable over-thinking suffocating me.

“Layla has a brain-tumor. It’s advanced and every day is wasting too much time.”

My heart stopped beating for a second. I tried to regain my breath but it was too hard.

 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought you to all this mess.”

“Why are you apologizing? I only wish you’d have told me sooner. Oh dear. I’m the one who should be apologizing here. I’m sorry. For all that I put you through. And all your lonely years. If only you’d told me.”

 

And we both cried in what was the landmark day of our lives.

 

Carrie and I lived together for about two years before I walked away. My job was different from what we imagined and it was just not enough. We had differences we could not resolve. Every night was a new fight and every morning a challenge. We loved each other but it just was not enough. And I remember the final words we’d spoken to each other. It was just any other night of fighting- we both were tired and it was becoming all too much.

 

“I’ve had enough of you, Jim,” she said.

“Like I could ever take you down.”

“Enough with all this. I can’t take this anymore.”

“Oh, you always take and take, dear. Never give. Well, give me something, dear. Give me all your troubles!”

“I’ve been throwing it all to you. And you only post it back!”

 

We stopped for the night and it was the time I knew I was leaving.

“Jim, don’t go.” She said, with feelings deeper this time. But for me, it was all the same routine.

“This isn’t anything new, is it?” I replied, tying up my shoes. I kissed her forehead and left.

 

And that was twelve years ago…

 

The next day I awoke to find my thoughts all over the room, each contradicting each other and all linking to the end of my marriage. I had to tell my wife. With what words or feelings- I did not know.

 

I told Carrie that I would arrange for money for the surgery and requested her to move out of her foul living conditions. She refused most of my funding, deeming half of it as ‘unnecessary’. I insisted she move into an apartment I could buy up for her but she would just shoot every suggestion down.

 

I left for home, promising to be back to take Layla in for surgery.

“You know, I will be back this time. And you be ready,” I hugged her and left.

 

***

“Honey, I’m home!” I said from the door.

My wife came in and kissed my cheek.

“You look rather tired and disturbed,” She said and understood from my look that the trip was not just a ‘trip’.

“I need to tell you something.”

 

We went and sat down. And I was taking heavy breaths, trying to form the words to break such news.

“I need you to trust me, dear.” I said, holding her hands.

“Okay, you’re scaring me now.”

“I… have a… daughter.”

 

She stunned with horror and withdrew her hand.

“What?” She cried.

“Wait… listen to me first. Dear… please,” I said as I ran around the table, trying to stop her from leaving.

“Wait!!! Please. Honey sit down!!”

She obeyed and gave me one chance to explain. I told her the whole story and she quietly went to bed.

 

The next couple of days of silence ended in an understanding. She was still upset, no doubt, but she ‘okayed’ my funding. She swore not to speak another word to me until all was over.

 

I returned to Carrie and brought her and Layla home. My wife was quite hospitable, despite the blank expressions she reserved for me.

 

The doctors said that the surgery was quite possible.

“But there are complications to any surgery,” the doctor said to me.

 

But we had faith and the good ol’ hope to suffice.

 

Layla went in for surgery, looking good and happy. I met her one last time to speak some words she might have been waiting on all her life.

“Hey, Layla, it’s me, your father. I know I haven’t been the best dad in the world but I just want you to, just for a second, allow me to take a place in your life. Can you do that?”

“Yeah, okay.” She said and we laughed a bit about a few things.

 

After about two hours, a doctor came to us.

“So, are you guys done?” I asked.

“Well, there was a complication,” the doctor said. And my blood froze.

“What? She’s okay, right?”

“She is fine but the complication may leave her mute. The tumor has penetrated into a different part of her brain. It is a complication and we can treat it. But I just wanted you to know, just in case.”

 

The doctor left but the dangers of it lingered still. And I was terrified.

 

The hours dragged on and on and it was a time when hopes began to turn to fears. Seven hours had passed and our eyes lightly shut with sleep when Layla reached the recovery room.

 

Carrie and I walked slowly to her room and just waited for a miracle to happen. Layla was awake and quiet. My heart started to break. It was over, our life. Mine, Carrie’s and our baby girl’s.

 

Just as we were leaving, a voice broke the solemn silence to shreds.

“Daddy?” Her voice echoed still.

 

And that was the miracle. She was okay and she was speaking and it was all the mattered. We both rushed to her bedside, crying and jumping in joy.

 

She and her mother moved to a better place. With my money spent on a good cause and for them to have a happy life was all I could ask for. My marriage was still going good. Our trusts and vows still intact. Maybe it was death that could “do us part”.

 

So, maybe there are happy endings?

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