Never Again
BY: RDV
Imagine a family so perfect it must never have existed.
Two girls, smarter than was due them. A working mother. A responsible father. The nanny of the girls had remained faithful for years and counting. She couldn’t help but to stay with them. They were like a family to her, the roots that held intact her family tree. If she wasn’t so physically un-alike them she would’ve easily been a progeny of the family. It would be unthinkable to be separated from these heavenly creatures. It would be implausible. She’d rather be in hell with them than to go back to her rat-holed, tattered past.
Then the father won an assignment in the US. He was a nice-looking man, the likes of which wouldn’t even hurt a hair on your skin. He was professionally competent and trusted much his wife, who was worthy of it nonetheless. The girls needless to say loved and respected him. Even at an early age of six, the firstborn had exhibited such fondness of him. He’d flip her up to his shoulders, buy her bicycles and stuff and went over proud when, at age five, the girl remarked that the flock of birds soaring against the sky was on migration. Normally little girls would utter superstitions like ‘someone is getting married.’ But not his firstborn. She knew well what those birds were up to. Overjoyed, the father bought her science books to pore on. And when he was off to the airport, he promised that he’d be back with more cool books for her.
He never came back. The cruelty of the event was too hard to imagine. He never did. The mother, in solitude, knew why. He had called her to say it. He had the nerves to say it, that he had been reunited with his old flame. He stood up his wife and family for the woman whom he loved years ago, who he hitherto thought had belonged to his past only.
None knew how his wife took it. When it went down a slippery hill they thought they could do something about it. But there was nothing more to be said and done. For all the world would know, the luggage beneath her eyes became more visible, circular and heavier. An indication of endless crying nights. How could he leave the daughters just like that? Only large amount of immorality and pitilessness would make anyone capable of ditching a family, wonderful or not.
As she wrung her fists on the table, now for the seventh straight month, in spite of herself, she looked at the nanny of her children who was then fixing something at the kitchen. She never bothered for the maid to see her like this. She had been more faithful to that family than her husband ever was.
She thought of him, if he was happy and guiltless there on the other side of the globe. She realized that that couldn’t be possible. She knew him. He wasn’t that strong a person. Occasionally he might have the urges to come back for redress, but shame would take over him. He might very well be smitten with grief but what was done was done. No, she didn’t deserve this and neither did the girls.
She stood up to head to the sink. She washed her face. No more. She would no longer picture his homecoming. Because how she saw him then, un-smeared and immaculate, was a perfect picture in itself. If he came back, tainted by the home-wrecker, he would be hated passionately and the memory, that picture of perfection, would efface and be gone to the hereafter. It would be better if he didn’t come back. Of course. The better to preserve the idea of a responsible, loyal, loving husband.
Imagine a family so perfect it must never have existed.
Two girls, smarter than was due them. A working mother. A responsible father. The nanny of the girls had remained faithful for years and counting. She couldn’t help but to stay with them. They were like a family to her, the roots that held intact her family tree. If she wasn’t so physically un-alike them she would’ve easily been a progeny of the family. It would be unthinkable to be separated from these heavenly creatures. It would be implausible. She’d rather be in hell with them than to go back to her rat-holed, tattered past.
Then the father won an assignment in the US. He was a nice-looking man, the likes of which wouldn’t even hurt a hair on your skin. He was professionally competent and trusted much his wife, who was worthy of it nonetheless. The girls needless to say loved and respected him. Even at an early age of six, the firstborn had exhibited such fondness of him. He’d flip her up to his shoulders, buy her bicycles and stuff and went over proud when, at age five, the girl remarked that the flock of birds soaring against the sky was on migration. Normally little girls would utter superstitions like ‘someone is getting married.’ But not his firstborn. She knew well what those birds were up to. Overjoyed, the father bought her science books to pore on. And when he was off to the airport, he promised that he’d be back with more cool books for her.
He never came back. The cruelty of the event was too hard to imagine. He never did. The mother, in solitude, knew why. He had called her to say it. He had the nerves to say it, that he had been reunited with his old flame. He stood up his wife and family for the woman whom he loved years ago, who he hitherto thought had belonged to his past only.
None knew how his wife took it. When it went down a slippery hill they thought they could do something about it. But there was nothing more to be said and done. For all the world would know, the luggage beneath her eyes became more visible, circular and heavier. An indication of endless crying nights. How could he leave the daughters just like that? Only large amount of immorality and pitilessness would make anyone capable of ditching a family, wonderful or not.
As she wrung her fists on the table, now for the seventh straight month, in spite of herself, she looked at the nanny of her children who was then fixing something at the kitchen. She never bothered for the maid to see her like this. She had been more faithful to that family than her husband ever was.
She thought of him, if he was happy and guiltless there on the other side of the globe. She realized that that couldn’t be possible. She knew him. He wasn’t that strong a person. Occasionally he might have the urges to come back for redress, but shame would take over him. He might very well be smitten with grief but what was done was done. No, she didn’t deserve this and neither did the girls.
She stood up to head to the sink. She washed her face. No more. She would no longer picture his homecoming. Because how she saw him then, un-smeared and immaculate, was a perfect picture in itself. If he came back, tainted by the home-wrecker, he would be hated passionately and the memory, that picture of perfection, would efface and be gone to the hereafter. It would be better if he didn’t come back. Of course. The better to preserve the idea of a responsible, loyal, loving husband.
posted by Ria D. at
10:34 PM
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