"There is nothing that we can do… I'm sorry, but to put it bluntly, she will die from this disease." The man in the white coat speaks, but I barely hear him.
I watch his lips move. Part of me understands and tries to comprehend this weight, while the other sees this as a lie or cruel joke. She is so young. How could something like this happen to her? She is innocent and kind. Untainted from sin, yet she is forsaken.
My wife and I pray, our hands trembling together, intertwined as one. Evelyn is not in the room; she is still undergoing testing with the doctors. We do not understand this disease that has infected her blood, but we know that if god answers our prayers, he may save her. Without her, we will be lost, wandering till the end of the earth. Our meaning for living is gone. She is our world. We prayed to conceive her and now pray for her survival. Tears fall from Lenora's eyes like heavy drops of rain. She carried her for nine months. Stayed with her while she was sick, and I needed to work. She's not only everything to her but also her best friend.
Love falls from her puffy red eyes. There is a knock at the door before it opens to the doctors and Evelyn walking in. Lenora quickly wipes her eyes. She acts like nothing has happened, as if the signs of her sobbing are not obvious. I'm shocked by what I see in front of me. Like pictures moving through my mind, I see her entire life flash before my eyes.
The doctors bring Evelyn back into the room. We embrace her, holding her so tightly, so afraid of letting her go. She doesn't understand; she is too young to understand. We tell her how much we love her and leave the clinic holding hands. Our little family is not fractured, but we try to hold it together with a rope that is frayed at both ends.
On our way home, we stop by a field of flowers that Evelyn has always admired. She loves to stop and stare at them. She is waiting for one of them to begin talking to her, like the beginning of a storybook. Rows of flowers stand before us, so many that counting would be a ridiculous notion. The petals are shades of purple, pink, yellow, and orange. A rainbow of color shooting up from green stems and waves of soft grass. Bees roam wildly, moving from flower to flower. Rabbits hop through the meadow.
This is peace.
"Am I going to die?" Evelyn looks up at us.
Her eyes are blank with a stare that would stun the coldest of men. There is no pain in her voice. No discontent. No fear. She is not angry. She is simply blank, devoid of any emotion. A walking and breathing husk.
In shock, neither of us speaks, but we look to each other and have a silent conversation with our eyes about how to answer this question. There is no use in lying to her, for she knows the truth. Her eyes tell us that story.
Lenora leans down, touching Evelyn's cheek, and she tells her the truth of her disease. They are both so strong, Lenora for the words that spill from her mouth as she holds back a waterfall, and Evelyn as she is told that she will meet her grandparents in heaven. She doesn't tell Evelyn how we cannot afford the treatment that may be able to save her. That would be the breaking point for Lenora. But we will never be able to afford the treatment, even if we both sold ourselves to cover the cost.
We continue the walk back to our home in silence, all lost in contemplation. I think of ways to get the money. Perhaps I could rob someone rich, but would that even be enough? I think of the life that I wish she could have had. I think of how Lenora and I will probably die after this. Of how we will succumb to the horror of losing our only child. Of how nothing will be able to replace her. We will lock hands and meet death together, walking into the white light to meet our daughter again.
A tear falls from my face to meet the ground, and I pull the others back. I cannot show weakness. I refuse to be afraid. There is no room in my mind or heart for any kind of fear. The only acceptable emotion is love, for that is what she needs. That is what both my daughter and wife need at this time. I must be the rock, shouldering this burden, bracing for the storm's impact. Quietly, I can break, but once I am in their presence or can feel their energy, I will muster the courage to be strong for them.
I straighten my back and continue our walk home.
We walk into the house, and Lenora begins to cook dinner with Evelyn as her assistant. They hum tunes and pretend that nothing has happened. I dance with them in the kitchen. Sweeping Lenora off her feet, holding her tightly. Evelyn stands on my toes, and as we dance, I imagine her older in a white dress as she is off to be wed and live a happy life. I see myself as an old man with grey hair.
What could have been.
After dinner, Lenora puts Evenlyn to bed. Reading her a story about a princess locked away in a tower. I take a walk down to the local tavern, kicking rocks down the dirt path marked with horse prints. The trees stare at me in pity as the sun begins to set, our nightmare of a day coming to an end. It is a short distance to the tavern; the closer I get, the louder the songs are. The folks of the tavern are merry and drunk, singing songs of girls and conquest. Drinking is something that I'm not very good at, but sorrow does something to a man.
Sitting at the bar, I order a brew and finish it before the keeper has turned away.
"Rough day?" he asks.
I nod.
He pours another.
People crowd the tavern, leaving seats far and few between. Some stand on the wooden benches singing songs, others beat against the bar. Beer spills onto the floor while a barmaid struggles to clean up every mess. There is a constant stomp against the wooden floor, and a funny smell in the air. Men sit at tables with cards in their hands. Men stand in corners talking to women or getting close enough to smell their breath. Smoke rises from those who light leaves in pipes. Everyone is happy, laughing, and smiling as people do. I do not speak, just sit and continue to drink until it's time to leave.
I stumble as the world spins around me. Falling with a splash into the muddy path that leads me home. As I struggle to get my footing, a man comes from behind me and helps me to my feet. I do not know this man. I did not see him in the bar.
"Don't worry, lad. I've got ye'" his voice is harsh. "Lookin' a down on yer luck. Needin' a friend are we?"
I shake my head, and he laughs. It's boisterous and contagious, but I don't seem to catch the infection.
"Well, if luck yer needin'. Then, look no ferther! Something is telling me, ye' need to head to Rapna. Joining tha' hunt will be good fer ye'. Say there gon' be a big prize this yer'." He smiles.
"Jus' think it over, will ye'?" with another laugh and a few steps. He is gone, and I am stumbling into my home, my wife waiting by the door with tears in her eyes.