002 — HIS UTTER AUDACITY

I’m shaking. I can’t breathe. I can’t even speak.

The birthday decorations are still hanging from the ceiling and the cake that Dave refused to eat without his daddy still lies there, untouched.

All that doesn’t faze me, but the moment I see my little boy covered from head to toe in a white cloth, a horrible, painful pang shoots through my chest.

I’m shaking like a leaf as I lift the sheets and look at his frail face and closed eyes. Eyes that will now be closed forever.

“N-no.” I whisper, tears falling in torrents down my face.

“God, please no. Take me instead. Please take me and bring back my little boy. Please…”

I lay my head on his chest, hoping to hear a heartbeat. Nothing. Dave is not breathing anymore. He’s really gone.

My baby was diagnosed with brain cancer at just two years old. So far, we’d tried our best to give him the best medical care possible but three months ago, the doctor informed us that he only had six months to live.

I run my shaky fingers over his closed eyes, my tears falling harder.

“The doctor said we still had six months together, sweetheart. Why did you leave me so soon? Open your eyes for mommy. Please, open your eyes.”

I lay my head on his chest and remain there for what seems like hours. My phone rings over and over again but I’m too consumed with grief to see who it is.

A while later, the door slams open and I hear sounds of footsteps.

I look up warily and pause when I see him. Henry Wilson. My husband.

He hurries towards me, his eyes already looking panicked as they dart from me to our dead son.

“Amani, honey, what happened? The guard just called me…”

It only takes one second for all my rage to bubble to the surface.

He stretches his hand to touch Dave and I slap it away. His wince of surprise gives me immense satisfaction.

“Don’t you dare touch my son, you bastard. Don’t touch him!”

For a moment, Henry just stares at me, his eyes wide with shock.

In the three years of our marriage and even while we were dating, I have never, ever raised my voice at him.

I’ve always been the humble, docile wife who believed my husband deserved all the respect in the world no matter how horribly he treated me.

Not. Any. More. That docile wife is gone and an angry, heart broken mother has taken her place.

“Watch your tone when you speak to me, Amani. I’m still your husband and David’s father.” He says authoritatively.

I take a bold step towards him, my eyes flashing with rage.

“You should receive an award for your audacity, Henry. Now you remember that you’re a husband and father?” I ask bitterly.

“Why didn’t you remember your fatherly duties all those nights when Dave needed you but you choose to spend time with your secretary? Why didn’t you remember your duties on your own son’s birthday? Shame on you!!” I screech.

“David was up since the crack of dawn, filled with hope that his daddy would spare a few minutes of his day and pay him a visit to wish him ‘happy birthday.’

I had to sit there and watch the hope slowly die in his eyes. I had to see his disappointment when he realised you were not going to show up as always!”

I wipe at the angry tears that roll down my cheeks.

“You are more of a father to Laura’s children than you’ve ever been to your own son, Henry. You never miss their birthdays or Doctor’s appointments. You even make out time to attend their school events while your own son laid on his hospital bed, fighting for his life!

What wrong did we ever do to you? Why did you hate us so much?”

I sense movements at the door and look up to find a beautiful blonde woman standing there with two pretty little girls by her side.

My eyes narrow with annoyance. It’s Laura and her twins.

The moment I realise who they are, my blood boils even hotter. I turn to my husband;

“What are they doing here? Why are they here?!”

His eyes are filled with remorse as he sneaks a quick glance at Laura.

Suddenly, it dawns on me.

“Did you bring them here?” I ask, my voice dripping with rage.

He stretches his hand towards me diplomatically but I step backwards before he can touch me.

“Look, Amani, you need to calm down. Laura’s children only wanted to wish David a happy birthday so I decided to bring them here from the doctor’s appointment.”

I press my fingers against my eyes, trying to keep my anger at bay.

“Are you bloody listening to yourself? What time did you get here?”

He lowers his head.

“Thirty minutes past midnight.”

I scoff. “So technically, you already missed David’s birthday because you were out there taking care of another woman’s children as usual.”

I turn to Laura.

“Are you happy now?” I ask bitterly. “He’s finally dead. My son is dead just like you wanted. Now you can have this bloody cheater all to yourself.”

She rushes into the room, her eyes filled with fake sadness, and wraps her hands around my husband’s arm.

I notice how he doesn’t push her away. I notice everything.

“Henry, did you hear her?” She whines. “I never wanted any of this to happen. How can she blame me for David’s death when I even convinced you to come here in the first place?”

Henry turns to me.

“She’s right. Don’t blame Laura for any of this. Blame me if you must but leave her and her children out of it.”

I nod.

My throat feels way too tight. I might burst if I keep entertaining this madness.

“You know what? I’m way too exhausted from pulling all nighters taking care of my son to argue with any of you right now. Leave. All of you.”

Henry takes a step towards me.

“You can’t send me away. I’m still your husband and…”

I turn towards him so fast, I become lightheaded.

“What were you going to say? That you’re still David’s father? Well, he’s dead now and you’re free to be with the family you really want.

Don’t worry about me. I promise I’ll no longer make myself your responsibility. I’m filing for divorce first thing tomorrow morning.``

For a moment, tense, choking silence reigns in the room. Then Henry steps forward and grabs my arm so tightly, I wince.

“Think very carefully before you do anything, Amani. I might forgive you this once because as a good person, I understand that you’re grieving. But I might not forgive you the next time you say something like this.

Don’t make the wrong decision because of one small mistake.”

I snatch my hand away and give him a look filled with hatred.

“Did you say a ‘small mistake?’ My son is dead and you’re calling that a small mistake? What the hell is wrong with you, Henry? Where’s the man I married?”

Henry and I met at college when I was just recovering from a grueling heartbreak and I fell head-over- heels for his good looks and charm. I ignored all the warnings from my aunt and best friend and we got married a year later.

Three months into our marriage, he changed from the kind, loving man I used to know to a distant, short-tempered human being. All because of Laura, his secretary.

I take a deep breath, walk towards the door and hold it open.

“You know what? Don’t answer that. I couldn’t care less. The divorce papers will be sent to your office tomorrow morning. Now, leave.”

His lips twist with annoyance.

“You will never find another man that will tolerate you the way I do. I promise you. No one will ever want to be with a bitter Betty like you.”

I swallow the painful lump in my throat.

“If mourning my son and leaving a horrible marriage makes me a bitter Betty, then God bless all the bitter Bettys like me around the world. May we live till a ripe old age.

Sign the divorce papers, Henry. It’s over…”