A man and his daughter

Hope in the eyes of a little girl

"I can't do this anymore, ever since Sarah died, you have become too distant!" she yells as she took off the ring.

"Please, don't do this, I already lost Sarah, I can't lose you too!" I begged her, My knees on the floor, my hand clutching on her arms, trying to keep her from leaving.

"David, I love you." she says. "But I can't keep up with your vices, It's like her death brought out the worst in you."

She keeps her eyes on the floor. "A side I have never seen before. I'm sorry David. It's over."

She throws the ring on the ground, and rips my hands of her arms. She took her bags, and put them on the taxi.

I can do nothing but keep kneeling on the door, and I watch as she takes a long, sad glance at me.

Then she went inside the taxi and drove off leaving me to stare at what remained of our forgotten love.

I fiddled with the ring on my hands as I watched a picture of Sarah. She wore her baseball gear, and her smiled beamed from ear to ear. 

A tear streaked my cheek, and as I finished my beer, I can hear the doctors.

I hear them diagnosing Sarah with cancer. Hear them telling me she has a few months to live.

I throw the bottle at the wall, making a crashing sound. And I cried. I bawled at the couch, thinking what ever did I do to deserve this. 

I just wanted a perfect family. I just wanted to live with the love of my life, and watch Sarah grow up a beautiful woman. My dreams reached the sky, too bad the world had to pull it back down.

I kept crying, pouring my heart out to the walls, screaming profanities at the wall. 

All I had ever built for the two most important girls in my life, gone.

Worthless. Laid to waste. A failure.

I decide to keep drinking until I pass out from exhaustion. Maybe when I wake up, this was just a nightmare.

A call pulled me out of my deathly posture. I struggled, trying to reach the phone. My arms felt numb.

"Hello, this is David." I groaned.

"David Aster?" a man replied.

"Yes. what is it?" I replied.

"It's about your sister." He said.

I can barely breathe as they lowered her body into the ground. My fists clenched, and the thought of father crossed my mind.

He was always abusive of us, and when sister got pregnant at an early age, he left her alone to die with her husband in debt.

No matter how much she needs help, father would always reject her. He disowned her a long time ago.'

B*****d.

"David, there is something we should talk to you about." a man whispered to me quietly.

I followed him to a gazebo where no one could hear us.

"Your sister has a child, that is correct?" He asked me.

"Yes, but I've never meet him or her. My sister became distrusting of family after father disowned her." I replied

"Well, according to law, you are now to take care of her children or-" He sighs.

"Or what?"

"Or you leave her in an orphanage." He tells me firmly, his eyes screaming at me to adopt her.

"I'll take care of her." I replied. "I'm not just gonna give her to no one." 

He nods in relief.

"Look, I know you recently lost your daughter and-" He cuts off as I gave him a piercing glare.

"You know what, you and Arya should meet." he  says instead.

Arya was a sickly pale girl. Undernourished, that's for sure.  My sister is riddled in debt, so Arya would be barely fed.

Otherwise she looks like any other 10 year old girl. She wore a clean white dress, a tamagotchi hung from her neck on a strap and she played with it profusely, but I can clearly see she's holding back tears.

"Arya, this man is your mother's brother. Say hi." the man said.

I knelt beside her, she barely looked up. 

"Arya." the man said, louder this time.

she looked at me with pale teary eyes.

"Let's go home." I told her.

She shook her head. "I don't want to go home. Daddy hurt mommy before he left. I'm scared of home."

My heart ached in pain. She's traumatized too.

"No, my home." I reply.

She turns off her tamagothchi and hugs me.

"You're not a bad man are you? You won't yell at me?" she asks.

"No." I replied.

I took her hand. "Let's go home." I tell her again.

She was amazed by my house. As an architect, I can afford the most expensive of furniture.

She looked at everything, the TV, the Fridge, the living room. Everything amazed her.

I guided her upstairs.

"And this is your room." I showed her Sarah's bedroom. Though my mind screams no, I'm not just going to send her to the guest bedroom.

"Who is she?" she asks, taking a framed picture of Sarah and me from a desk.

I knelt beside her. "That's Sarah. She's my child." I tell her.

"Where is she?" she asks.

"She's dead. Cancer." I tell her, my voice cracking.

"Where is your family Mr. David?" she asks.

"No family. I'm all alone. They all left." I said on the verge of tears.

"I'm tired, can I sleep now?" she asks.

"Yes go to bed." I tucked her in and turned off the lights.

A knock on my bedroom door shook me awake. Arya peeked from a small crack, the lights blinding me.

"Arya, it's late. What's wrong?" I asked.

"I'm scared. I don't like sleeping alone. Mom never let's me sleep alone." she says.

I waved her towards my bed, and she smiles.

She buried herself underneath my blankets, holding my arm to keep her warm.

Sarah, I thought. Sarah always does this.

After a while, she was snoring lightly. 

I kissed her on the forehead and went back to sleep.

I woke up the next morning to her drawing something on the living room.

It was my sister, and she looks like she loves drawing a lot.

"Nice drawing!" I tell her.

She looks up and smiles.

"Hey I have work, I brought over a babysitter, she'll be coming by soon, are you two going to be ok?" I asked.

She gives me a grin and two thumbs up.

My heart pounds in my chest, and for the first time since Sarah's death, I smiled.

The next evening, I saw her drawing still.

"By the way something came by the mail, something about a diet course?" she says.

I looked at the mail, confused about what diet course.

Then I froze. Not a diet course. A divorce.

Signed by a judge, already approved without my consent.

Without thinking, I started ripping apart the paper, and I threw everything from my table. 

Glass shattered, papers rustled, and my laptop hits the ground with a thud.

Then I yelled profanities at God. Blamed him for all of this.

It's His fault not mine, I did my best. Not my fault I failed, I convinced myself.

In my rage I barely thought of the child who watched me.

She was hugging the wall between the kitchen and the living room, eyes full of fear, paralyzed.

"Arya-" I took a step towards her, and she takes a step back.

My mind erupted in chaos, and I started crying. Weak, that's what I am.

I have become the father I had hoped not to be. My father.

"I am sorry Arya!" I tell her,

"I am weak, just another failure waiting to happen. I failed my kid and my family. I failed you too. I'm a bad man."

I collapsed on the floor. "I'm just another bad man."

She runs to me, hugging me tightly.

I take her in my arms. Repeatedly saying I'm sorry.

"It's okay. We all break sometimes. That's what mom always says." she tells me.

"But you know what?" she asks.

I look at her eyes, surprised to see her smiling.

"Even in her last moments, mom never gave up on family. She tells me you were her best friend. I'm so glad I met you."

She takes my hand, and puts it on her cheek. "Dad."

So far so good. Three months since my last alcoholic drink or cigarette. Life is good.

"Hey dad, look my tamagotchi is evolving!" Arya tells me.

"Cool. Maybe next time we can pair ours together. Like father like daughter." I tell her.

She beams in delight.

I take her hand, and together we walked on the park.

I may have lost a lot, but when I look at her, I can see I also gained something no one can give me easily.

I gained hope.

Author's Note

Please leave a review. Thanks.

Reviews

[Bushra Naqshbandi]

This is beautiful and I'm crying right now. Really, really well thought out and even better written.

[Andrew Leister-Frazier]

This was such a powerful piece. You are so lucky.

[Wendy Gillett]

Hello,
This I s a lovely story. I like it. It has so much sensitivity and genuineness. The short sentences make it more profound and carry it along.