by Mona Shroff
“It was ages ago. While we were still dating. I was crazy in love with her, and I knew I wanted to marry her. So, I asked your grandfather’s permission.” Daniel’s father raised an eyebrow and looked his son in the eye. “And he said no.”
Daniel was speechless. No one said no to his father. Except, apparently, his grandfather. “Why?”
“He thought I was too immature and wouldn’t amount to anything. We were still in college, and I was pretty aimless.” He let out a small chuckle. “Looking back, I probably would have said no to me, too. Anyway, I became convinced for a time that there was no way I was good enough for your mother, that her father was right. She was better off without me. I was getting ready to break up with her when Ba contacted me. She said that if I loved her daughter, I should prove her husband wrong. I should fight for what I wanted. So, I did. Got my act together, focused on school and on how much I loved your mother. A year later, when I asked your grandfather again, he shook my hand and gave me his blessing.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because, son. We’re all terrified of something at some point. It’s what you do about it that makes all the difference.”
Daniel was still unable to speak. But his normally silent father seemed to have plenty to say today. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Daniel managed to refocus.
“I’m sorry I said those things to you when you lost Sara. I thought—well, I thought if you just went through the paces, you could get your life back. But hell, I miss my granddaughter every day—I can’t even imagine what you go through. Because I know that, even now, if something were to happen to you or your sister, I’d never be the same.” He hung his head, suddenly interested in the ground. He snapped his head up to look at Daniel. “I am damn proud to see you getting control of your life right now.”
Daniel just stared at his father. Who was this man and where was his real father?
“Don’t look at me like that. Never too old to admit you’re wrong. You remember that.” His eyes softened. “That girl is amazing. Lean on her. Let her lean on you. That’s how that works.”
“What are you saying? I should just call her up and tell her I made a mistake?”
“Why not? People who love each other make mistakes all the time. I certainly did. Your mother always forgave me.”
Daniel pressed his lips together.
“You’re afraid she won’t take you back.”
Daniel nodded, not wanting to even acknowledge that fear.
His father shrugged. “Yeah, so maybe she won’t take you back. But maybe she will. How will you know if you don’t try? I mean, if you don’t act, I’m sure some other young man will.”
Acid filled Daniel’s stomach.
“She’s a good and kind person, Danny. You deserve a shot at happiness. Don’t let it slip away.”
Daniel lowered his voice. “I love her. But if I were her, I’d want nothing to do with me. Ever. And rightly so.”
His father grinned. “Well, then, I guess it’s a good thing she isn’t you.”
* * *
NAUSEA AND DREAD filled Daniel’s gut as the day drew near. He had no desire for food; trying to sleep was a joke. He avoided TV, radio and all social media so he didn’t have to hear the recap on the news. It was the same every year. In the past, he had filled the approaching days with extra shifts, trying to distract himself from the impending doom of the actual day his daughter had died.
It never mattered how many shifts he worked; his body knew what his mind tried to ignore. He always woke on that day with a hole in his gut, his heart weighed down. He never actually took a shift on the actual day, preferring instead to be alone in his anger and grief and curse the world yet again for continuing on without his daughter. The first couple of years, when he and Sheila were still married, she would cry and he would drink while he held her.
After the divorce, he never contacted Sheila on this day, and she never contacted him. Not that they were ever in constant contact, but on that day, he could feel the connection of their non-contact.
This year was no different. Except that it was.
The familiar hollowness filled his belly as he approached the house Sara used to live in. Interesting. He’d been here a dozen times in the past two months to see Aaron, and that dread had been slowly fading away.
It was back today. Daniel had no idea what he was doing, except that, for the first time, he hadn’t wanted to be alone on this day.
He knocked.
Sheila answered, her eyes red rimmed and swollen. “I thought you might come by this year.”
“I’m sorry, Sheila. I can go if—”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Come in.” She stepped back to allow him in. “Jim’s just getting dinner started. You’re welcome to stay.”
He stepped in. “No. Maybe. I don’t know.” His stomach rumbled in response to the aroma of onion and garlic sautéing. He shuffled his feet, unsure of why he was here.
Tears fell from Sheila’s eyes. She wiped them away. “Sorry, but this is what I do every year.”
Daniel nodded. Sheila took his hand and led him into the house. Her grip was firm. She wanted him here. “Jim, honey. Daniel’s staying for dinner.”
“No, that’s okay. I’ll just go.”
“It’s fine, Daniel.” Jim’s soothing voice reached him as they approached the kitchen. “It’s a tough day—”
Jim was interrupted by a small squealing from the baby monitor that quickly turned into an outright cry.
Sheila sighed. “I just put him down.”
“I’ll go.” Daniel spoke before he thought, and he was moving up the stairs as if he was being pulled up them.
He approached Aaron’s room, which used to be Sara’s room, and went straight to the crib without turning on the light. He picked up the baby and held him close, resting Aaron’s head in that crevice between his neck and shoulder. The baby instantly curled up and calmed down. Daniel paced the small room until he felt Aaron fall asleep. He walked over to the crib to lay Aaron back down, but instead, he held on to the baby, finding comfort in his weight as he rocked in the chair. He shifted the baby into his arms and took in the sheer perfection that was a newborn child.
Aaron’s baby scent engulfed him and sent Daniel tumbling into the past. This time, the burn of tears that built up behind his eyes was welcome, and he let them fall, allowed them to give way to sobs as he grieved for this little baby’s big sister, as he grieved for his Sara.
After some time, it could have been five minutes, it could have been an hour, he felt Sheila’s hand on his shoulder.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” Sheila moved around so she could face him, kneeling down. In the light from the hallway, he could see fresh tears in her eyes.
“I’ve never seen you cry before.” She shook her head, her eyes filled with tenderness. “Must be Annika. She’s good for you.”
“That’s over,” Daniel croaked out.
To her credit, Sheila pressed her lips together and said nothing.
Daniel cleared his throat. “Did we keep her ER band?”
“Yes.” Sheila nodded. If she was surprised at the request, she did not show it. “I have it with a bunch of her things.” She stood and turned to the closet and pulled down a small box. She took off the lid so Daniel could see. A paper heart, a few awards, things she had done in school, and the ER band.
With great deliberation, he lifted his hand and reached in to pick it up, as if doing so might break him. He clasped the small band in his hand.
“Do you want it, Daniel?” Sheila’s voice was soft and kind.
He nodded and clutched the small band tightly, as if now that he had it, he needed it. Maybe he did. “How are you doing it?” Daniel whispered as he held Aaron close.
“Doing what?”
�
�This.” He nodded at the baby in his arms. “Moving on with your life.”
Sheila laid a hand on his face. “Oh, Daniel. We don’t move on. There’s no moving on. We just live. We’ll never not miss her. We’ll never be okay with the fact that she was ripped from us—but maybe we don’t have to be. Maybe we just live and love and honor her memory.” She looked at her son and smiled through her tears. “How can you not fall in love with this little guy? Even while you miss Sara.”
Daniel turned his gaze back to Aaron. The little boy slept peacefully, as if there wasn’t a care in the world. He was chubby cheeks and a small pink mouth topped with a sprinkling of blond hair. He was so small and vulnerable... Daniel was filled simultaneously with a need to protect him as well as with anticipation of watching him grow. He kissed Aaron’s chubby cheek.
“You can’t. You have to love him. It’s not even a choice,” Daniel choked out, and he felt himself give in to that warm feeling.
“You do need to heal, Daniel. But you don’t need to do it alone.” She sniffled as she stood. “Want me to take him?”
Daniel shook his head. “Nah, I’m good, if that’s all right with you. I might just sit with him for a bit.”
Sheila nodded and squeezed his shoulder as she left. “She loves you, Daniel. She loves you no matter what.”
“Sara?”
“And Annika.”
Daniel melted into the sound of her name and looked back at Aaron. He put Sara’s ER band into his pocket next to the one Annika had given him. Then he carefully pulled his phone from his pocket and brought up an old number. He held Aaron with one hand as he brought the phone to his ear and listened to the ring.
A familiar voice answered.
“Hey, Gus? Daniel here. It’s been a long time.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
ANNIKA
THE WARM SUN beckoned her class from the window. They were particularly restless today, and Annika was sure the last few weeks of school would be challenging.
“All right. Let’s put everything away and get ready to go home.”
The children did not need to be told twice. It may have appeared to be a ruckus to an outsider, but Annika saw organized chaos. Every child had a responsibility in the classroom, and they took it very seriously, sunshine or no. In minutes, the classroom was in order, and the children had gathered their belongings and were seated in the afternoon dismissal circle. Annika addressed the class, recapping the lessons for the day and wishing them a happy weekend. Parents started showing up and the children left, anticipating their time outside.
“Mitch!” Annika called out as she saw his mother enter the room. Mitch popped up and came to the front of the room. He stopped in front of Annika and hugged her.
Annika hugged him back. “Thank you, Mitch.”
“You’re welcome, Ms. Mehta. Have a great weekend.” He flicked his eyes to his mother, and she beamed at him, mouthing, Good job.
The sound of his voice melted Annika’s heart. Mitch was far from a conversationalist, but she’d helped his mother find the appropriate therapist, and he was making great strides. This was the most Annika had heard him say in the classroom.
Tears blurred her vision, but she smiled. “You have a good weekend, too. I’ll see you on Monday.”
Mitch took his mother’s hand, and she smiled her gratitude to Annika as she left with her son.
Wait until Daniel hears this! It was still a reflex, her wanting to share exciting news with him. She shook her head at the thought, but the heaviness settled in her heart. There was nothing to be done for that. At least, nothing that she had found. In the meantime, she decided she’d call her dad and share Mitch’s progress with him.
There had been a clip in the local news last week commemorating the anniversary of the shooting that had taken Sara. Annika had watched, her heart breaking for Daniel and Sheila, and all the other loved ones who had lost someone that day. She knew he always spent the day alone, though she’d picked up her phone to call or text him an infinite number of times. In the end she left him alone in his grief. He wasn’t hers anymore.
In a flurry of excitement and activity, all of the children were reunited with their parents, and in no time her classroom echoed with silence. Annika straightened up the desks and chairs and tucked everything away for the weekend. A proud smile fell across her face as she thought of all her class had accomplished this year.
You’re a damn good teacher, Annika Mehta. She could almost hear Daniel’s voice beside her. Ugh. It was like she was a boy-crazy teenager who couldn’t get over a crush. She needed to get a grip. And anyway, she was a damn good teacher. The thought made her a bit giddy. With a satisfied sigh, she turned off the light and walked out into the hallway.
Her heart nearly stopped as she recognized the muscular form of the man who was studying her class’s hallway display. It was as if he’d been conjured from her thoughts.
“Daniel?” It came out as a whisper that caught in her throat.
He turned to face her, green eyes alight with amusement. “Tulip cutouts.” He nodded, smiling. “I don’t think there’s a happier flower. The kids must love it. I was hoping you would add one more to the display.” He handed her a yellow construction paper tulip as if months hadn’t passed since they’d last spoken. As if he could walk into this building like anyone else. She automatically reached out and took it without looking at it, not knowing what shocked her more: seeing him, or seeing him inside this school.
“What are you doing here?” She searched his face for signs of pain. Most people would see the handsome smiling face with the twinkle in his eye. But she saw the slight twitch of his lip and the minuscule movement of his eye, the fidgeting of his right foot. His pain was hidden in those movements. But here he stood, inside this school building, waiting to talk to her. She couldn’t help her smile or the feeling of pride she had in him.
“I’m adding to your display—I mean, it’s five years too early, but I wanted to make sure he had a spot in your class.”
Annika had never been more confused, and Daniel was standing there talking to her like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t been away for months.
Like he still loved her.
It must have shown on her face, because he stopped rambling and put his hands into his pockets as he quietly jutted his chin at the flower cutout he had just handed her. His demeanor changed as if he had read her mind and decided that pretending nothing had happened between them was ridiculous.
She indulged him and looked at the tulip cutout in her hand. Aaron. This offered her no clarity. She looked up at him, and he met her eyes and nodded in the direction of the door, indicating she follow him. She sighed and started walking. He walked beside her, and she felt more than saw him glance at her.
“You look amazing.” His voice was low and intimate, and though she knew on some level that she should fight it, she melted into the soft rumble of the voice he used only for her.
Daniel reached to open the door for her and stepped back as a man entered from the other side, the school police officer at his side. “Excuse me.”
Annika froze, her pulse quickened and her back stiffened. It was Mitch’s father. She hadn’t seen him since the first day of school when he had insulted her. All of her interactions since then had been with Mitch’s mother, whose only interest had been getting help for her son; who helped him seemed irrelevant to her.
He nodded at Annika, his lips pressed together.
Daniel drew himself to his full height, stepping closer to Annika, even as he made room for Mitch’s father and the officer to enter.
“Ms. Mehta.” Mitch’s father finally addressed her.
“Mr. Evans.” Annika kept her voice firm yet calm.
Mitch’s father flicked his gaze to Daniel and back to Annika. “I was hoping to have a word with you, about Mitch.”
“G
o right ahead.” Annika did not move. Daniel tensed next to her.
“Well...” Mr. Evans glanced at Daniel and the officer, then turned his gaze to Annika. “I just wanted to...thank you. For everything you did for my Mitch.”
Annika couldn’t speak. Daniel and the officer were looking at each other, baffled, and the man simply stood there, looking abashed. Silence echoed in the hallway.
Annika finally managed to find her voice. “Well, Mr. Evans, it was my pleasure. Mitch is a wonderful child.”
“He has truly enjoyed being in your class.”
“Despite your best efforts, I assume.” Annika raised her chin.
Mr. Evans cleared his throat. “Well, now. That’s not necessary—”
Annika narrowed her eyes, her stomach jumping. She felt emboldened. This man was thanking her for doing her job, because his son had benefited. Not because he realized that her abilities had nothing to do with the color of her skin. He certainly had not been an active participant. “Actually, it is necessary.” She seethed, but kept her voice measured. “It’s very necessary, since you saw fit to insult me on my first day on the job, simply based on the color of my skin. And that is anything but okay.”
Daniel leaned even closer to her, tension vibrating from him.
“Well, now, what do you expect?”
Annika threw her shoulders back and took a step closer to Mr. Evans. “I expect to be treated with the respect and consideration afforded to any person who teaches your child. Regardless of whether I exceeded your personal expectations of what I should or should not be doing.”
Mr. Evans narrowed his eyes. “Now, listen here. I came here to thank you for helping out my son—”
“And I appreciate that. You are more than welcome. I was simply doing my job. It’s a pleasure having him in my classroom.” With that, Annika dismissed him with a nod. “You have a nice weekend, now.”
Annika walked past Mr. Evans with a smile to Officer Keely, Daniel right behind her. She walked out into the sun, stopping to breathe.