Remorse Short Story – The Last Letter
Photo credit: mconnors from morguefile.com
I didn’t get the chance to ask her why or where. I heard the door knob click and the silence that followed. By the time I reached the door, she was out and nowhere to be seen. It was a little past two in the night.
“Ahhh! Must be that crave for midnight ice-cream” – I thought or maybe she felt lonely and needed a stroll. I never figured out why she doesn’t talk to me. Despite of my innumerable attempts to strike a conversation with her, there isn’t a single time that I received a reply. Her silence sometimes makes me think that she doesn’t even acknowledge my presence. But still I couldn’t leave her. I just couldn’t let her go. I needed her, at least for few moments more. But where was I going to find her?
I decided to wait for her as I knew there wasn’t a way to track her down. I was immersed in her thoughts when my eyes fell on the calendar.
———
“17 years have passed but the strange relationship we had never changed.
I remember the day you were born. It was an early monsoon day. Freshness lurked in every nook of the streets, the trees seemed rejuvenated and the people, overwhelmed. After all it was an unexpected but much needed change of weather. I was in my study with a “do-not-disturb” tag on the closed door though I was doing nothing. I was a little high with few pegs down and enjoyed being alone. I heard a knock on the door, a loud bang to be precise. Irritated of course but I responded to the door. There she was, your mother, almost bending over her belly with one hand under it. “It’s a strange pain” – she mumbled. I took her hand over my shoulders and moved towards our car parked outside. I strapped her with the seat belt and comforted her saying “everything’s going to be fine, hold on for a few minutes more”. She blinked and smiled as I drove out to the road through the gate. I knew I was speeding but I had no choice.
The wait outside the OT was short but anxious. I have moved through every position a man can sit at in just half an hour, which to me though seemed like eternity. And then, I held you in my hands for the first time – a little sweetheart wrapped in a towel, palms clutched and wide open eyes. I looked at her for a few minutes and then looked at the doctor who stood with his eyes straight on me. I was about to enquire about your mother but before I could I heard him say “I am sorry”.
My world parted at that very moment – a part of me was gone with her and the other remained to take care of you. I promised to be the best father but I know I deprived you of a mother’s care. I never talked about her because you never asked me. In fact you never talked to me.
But apart from bringing you up just like I wanted and in the best possible way I could, I also have preserved something for you. On you birthday every year, I wrote you a letter describing your mother. I also did write to her on the same occasion speaking of you. I meant to give you those letters on your 18th birthday and then let you go forever.
As I see the calendar now, I wish I had seen it a couple of hours ago. At midnight today you turned 18 but before I could fulfill my wish you left. This last letter to you will remain with me for the rest of my life, undelivered, just like the others because I do not have your address. I never did.
Now that you have left forever, I want to tell you that I am sorry. I shouldn’t have driven by myself that day as I was intoxicated. If I didn’t, your mother would have reached the hospital safely and I would have written the truth about your birth. Had I called a cab that day, you would have talked to me, you would have grown up with a mother’s affection and I would have raised a real you as I wanted rather than bringing up an imaginary daughter and depend on a self-made story for so long to prove the existence of a daughter that I always wished for.
I wish I could rewind the years and bring you back. But the only thing that I can do now is to think of a life if I had not been careless that day.”
__END__
