LIAM

I look out the window of my home office at the ant bird that pecked endlessly at the foot of the large Northern Red Oak tree in my compound as if it wanted to unearth a hidden treasure before it flew away to a nearby branch. My eyes flit to the Willow tree that seemed to be looking over the water fountain flowing peacefully beside it.

"A wreath of Willow to show my forsaken plight."

I silently sip from the glass of white wine clutched firmly in my hand. Each gulp felt like a river of lava flowing through my gut as sorrow and pain cloud my features.

Today marks two years since my cherished wife Fiona went away to be with the Lord. After working the night shift, she was returning from the hospital when she had a head-on collision with an oncoming truck carrying diesel. She was already gone before she could be rushed to the hospital. My whole life had felt like a stack of Jenga that came crashing down violently, as I sat on the floor of the ER sobbing like a child. I clutched our little 1-year old daughter who was also wailing her eyes out as if she knew she had forever lost something precious. Since then, Laura, our lovely daughter and I became each other's world.

I had first met Fiona at a fundraising event. She had given me a glass of vintage wine as I was contemplating something, and I accepted it and downed it without hesitation. Her father had just combined his business with my dads'.

I had returned home for a break after receiving an impromptu break up text from Cara, my girlfriend back at home. I wanted an explanation. I was left even more flabbergasted when I couldn't place the whereabouts of she and her mom. Nobody was aware of where she and her mother were. It was as though they had vanished off the face of the planet. 

I was worried at first that something might have happened to her since it was a very unusual situation, but later I was angry when I realized that I had just been dumped without knowing why.

I tried contacting her through all of her social media accounts, but I got no response. I asked my mother to assist me check on her when I called, but I was told that nobody is sure of her whereabouts. To say that I was broken would be an understatement; my heart was broken. I had series of nightmares were I always woke up in cold sweat begging for her not to leave me. Once I finished business school, I was going to ask her to marry me. 

I resented her because I hated how deeply I needed closure. My self-esteem plummeted and over a long period of time, I wondered whether I was the problem or whether I wasn't good enough to her.

It was in the midst of this that Fiona and I met several times at the company after our initial encounter at the charity. I was currently employed with JOHNSONACE, the result of the merger and had just graduated from business school. We started talking, going on dates and I eventually proposed to her when father wouldn't let me hear the end of it. He kept talking about how we had to maintain the business.

I only really started to fall in love with her after we got married. I fell in love with her sincerity and kindness towards others and most importantly her eyes–a baby blue hue with a tinge of green. I was initially apprehensive about doing it, but then I asked myself what life is without risks.

I was moved to the brand-new JOHNSONACE branch in a suburb of Dublin after we got married. I was given the position of managing director. Soon after, Fiona got pregnant and gave birth to a stunning baby girl whom we named Laura.

There is no such thing as a flawless existence, as reality quickly showed me it's superiority when I thought my life was going great. 

"Daidi?" Laura calls jolting me out of my train of thoughts.

"Yes, princess?" I reply setting the wine glass gently on the table and carrying her in my arms.

"I don't want to eat take out." She whines.

"Princess, Daidi is too exhausted to prepare dinner.”

“If we hire a chef, you won't need to prepare meals.” She tells me with sad eyes . 

“How do you know she doesn't have as much as we have? Mom would object to having another woman in the kitchen.”

"Because her grandpa doesn't possess eight cars, and her dad isn't on TV or in magazines." She states matter-of-factly.

"I see. I certainly hope you didn't inform her of that.” I say strolling into the living room.

"No I didn't." She shakes her head and her golden curls bounce hither-thither. "I'll ask mum if we may hire a chef. I'll also let her know that I don't enjoy daidi’s food and that I want to eat something else."

"You talk to mummy?" I say putting Laura on the sofa and squatting to face her squarely.

"Sometimes." She looks down and swings her legs on the sofa.

“What do you tell her?" Worry is etched on my face as I picture her talking to whatever she believes was her mum.

"Things that Daidi and other people do that I don't like." She frowns slightly expressing disdain for me and whoever it was that did things she didn't like. "The other day you made me scrambled eggs to school instead of sunny-side up as you promised and when Jessica laughed at my freckles."

I listen to her recount other things that 'Jessica' did that she didn't like. I know the Jessica she always talks about is the thorn in her flesh. Almost everyday after school, she never fails ,to recount how Jessica offended her each and every passing day.

"I apologise baby. Don't pay attention to Jessica; remember what your mother said. You have freckles, and she's just envious. She doesn't know that that's what makes you beautiful. Grannie also has it." I pull her to hug and kiss her freckles.

"Mummy wasn't too happy." She says pulling out of the hug.

"How do you know?"

"When she is unhappy with whatever someone did or said to me, she doesn't come to my window. Mummy doesn't come to my window when she's unhappy, but when she's joyful, she comes with a twig and places it there." She says this with a smile. 

"What comes to your window princess and how do you know it's mummy?"

"A white bird. One day I was praying to God that I missed mummy because Becky couldn't stop talking about everything she and her mummy did for Christmas. That's when mummy showed up at my window with a twig in her mouth." She smiles as she relishes the said moment.

"Baby, know that I adore you more than anything in this world. Are you no longer a fan of grandma's cooking?" 

“She doesn't bring it every time.”

"Due to the distance baby, grandma cannot always deliver meals. You know what, we are getting ice-cream.”

"Hurray.. I love ice cream." She runs and prances about like she was already high on the sugar she was about to take.

"I'll be right back. Daddy wants to change into something comfortable. Don't go anywhere."

"Okay Daidi."

I hastily run up to change into a comfy purple sweatshirt and gray joggers.

Being at home on Fiona's memorial day had always been a kind of unspoken tradition for Laura and myself. I just find myself having a strong inclination to stay indoors on the days when we remembered Fiona's death with Laura keeping me company, so I know we leaving the house even if it is to do something as simple as getting ice cream can create a butterfly effect in our lives. 

I sprint down the stairs and go to grab my car keys from the coffee table.

"Daidi, I think mummy sent a chef." Laura says looking outside the window facing the driveway.

"Why do you say so?" I ask stashing my keys and wallet into my pocket.

"There's a beautiful lady in a white shirt and black skirt and a truck outside. The kind our neighbour drives."

A moving truck? What was this woman doing on my property with a moving truck? I'm hoping Veronica, my personal assistant didn't provide her with the incorrect address. 

“Let's go, little one.”

I hold her hands and go out to meet the truck driver after locking the front door.

I apologize to the truck driver and tell him that he can't leave the truck here. I wonder where the woman who led the truck here vanished to.

"Just going about my business. You can talk to the woman there. She led me here. I'm just doing my job as the driver" the truck driver shrugs and points to the lady with the bob hair standing at the rear side of the truck.

I immediately understand that she is the person mother said I should acquire an accommodation for.

Today is definitely the first time my PA, Veronica, has irritated me. Why on earth would she commit such an error? I assumed Veronica would use her common sense to understand that the only apartments I can give out are the ones in the suburbs when mum mentioned she wanted to assist someone with housing. For the love of God, I don't even know this individual.

"You can't be here Madam," I start to say "I think there's been a mistake some..." I stop at my tracks as the woman in question turns to face me. I immediately recognize the face of the person standing in front of me. I'm suddenly barraged by a flood of memories–pleasant ones, unpleasant ones, hurtful ones.

As soon as I recognize Cara's face, I am rendered completely speechless for a moment.