Chapter 2 Don and Joan

The moon accentuated the room with a gentle glow from between the blinds as Don and Joan put off the light. The room wasn't big but comfort was not missing. In it was the bed on which the child lay, nothing close to a king-sized bed but comfortable enough for a child barely eight years. Beside the bed was a bedside table and opposite the bed was a wardrobe holding the child's cloth. The room was painted white. The blinds and bed sheet were pink in color giving a subtle female feel.

Don and Joan exited their daughter's room after making sure she was asleep and probably dreaming, but the moment they stepped out Joan turned on her husband, almost as though she had been waiting and practicing in her head to do so.

"I can't take it anymore," she exhaled. Her eyes held a shade of defeat.

Don remained unfazed, rather confused. "What can't you take anymore?" He ran his fingers across her cheeks. It was a gesture that always calmed her down, but didn't seem to suffice this time. Her chest heaved with every breath and she folded her arms under her breast. Worry creased Don's face. "What's wrong?" He asked when she didn't give a reply to his initial question but her demeanor worsened with each passing second.

"Are you asking?" Joan hissed. "Everything is wrong, Don. Everything. You can see it, smell it, taste it, hear it, and even feel it. It has been wrong for the past two years." She released her folded arms and lifted them. Her eyes danced in frustration and Don's heart ripped from his chest.

He knew well what his wife meant and what she was talking about, but it seemed that his wife had forgotten that she wasn't the only one suffering from the fate that life had granted to them. He was suffering, she was suffering and most of all, their only daughter was suffering. Don opened his arms wide and tried to embrace Joan. People claimed that hugs had a way of soothing the pain that one went through on the inside. Don didn't get a chance to ease Joan's pain although he longed to. She flung his hands off her and walked into the room.

The gesture reminded Don of the first time he met his wife. She had always been cold and that was also the thing that got him attracted to her. He wondered if he could be the warmth that eased her cold attitude. The slender young black woman in a law firm, on her chair, in an office that oozed command, class, and confidence. Don was drawn to her the first day he set his eyes on her. It didn't matter if others or some set of humans claimed that love, at first sight, didn't exist. There was no other phrase to describe the magnitude of attraction Don had towards Joan that first day. Sadly, it wasn't the same for Joan. She didn't notice the presence of the client her boss brought to work that morning.

Don was a renowned associate professor at the university situated in the town they inhabited. It was not quite the big one, but it was still worth the effort and pay. Don didn't mind. However, the size of the university didn't dictate the magnitude of trouble a person could get into. He got in trouble with one of the students and was sued by her parents. He needed legal advice on how to bypass the lawsuit or soothe the girl's parents and that explained how he ended up at the law firm that day. Don was also friends with the owner, they went to high school together and they both grew up in the same neighborhood. His friend, Drake, was able to settle the lawsuit without any problem, but Don didn't stop going to the law firm to catch a glimpse of the human that slowly occupied his heart. He fell hard in love with Joan.

Joan started to notice him on his third visit. Don couldn't be sure if she'd caught him staring or if he had also caught her attention, but that was when she started to return his greetings. The action only propelled Don more. He went out of his way to greet her, give well wishes, and even offer to give her a ride to the court once in a while. Drake got tired of having to see him every day simply because he wanted to see Joan and so, he pushed Don to ask Joan on a date. Don took up the challenge and together, they agreed on a date that he would do it.

In high school, Don was one of the most popular students. It could have been his looks which most people attributed to his mother, it could have been because he was a jock, it could have been because he was an intelligent student, it could have been all the three combined. Maybe it was, but no one could overlook the fact that Don was popular because he was a smart, sporty, and good-looking loner. To cap it all, he had no fear for anyone or anything and the students worshiped him like a god. But for the first time, on the day Don wanted to ask Joan on a date, he feared - a strange feeling he never could tell if he had ever felt.

The fear was basic, something that taunted every guy who had to ask a girl a question as simple as, "Would you like to go on a date with me?" His heart heaved in his chest and he could convincingly argue that his rib cages had torn apart from the intensity. He arrived at the firm, close to the closing hours, and flew straight to his friend's office, simply bending his head to greet anyone he collided with, avoiding eye contact. Don was ashamed of his thirty-year-old self. He couldn't help but blame it on his refusal to date all through high school and college.

"It shouldn't be this hard." He muttered as soon as he closed the door of Drake's office behind him.

"You'll feel much better having her to yourself than wallowing in the grace of the few hours you steal, staring illegally at her face and watching her work," Drake said, sneering at Don and managing a quick chuckle. Don could now tell that Drake had set a trap with this game and he had fallen for it.

"How can I be sure that she won't slap me across my cheek and scream at me to disappear from her sight?" He was pacing the room, his right hand on his forehead and the other gesticulating his every word. "What if she gets a restraining order against me?" He paused in his tracks and squeezed his face in a frown, Drake burst into laughter. "Or what if she doesn't even give me any audience?" Don was deadpan and serious, but Drake didn't stop laughing.

"Be reasonable Don. No one would do that, but she could if you keep up with the stalking." He said in between his laughter.

Don tried to relax but even his strength almost failed him. He exited the office a few minutes before closing time. He approached Joan in her office and the bright smile that settled on her face provided him the energy he needed to move on. He shouldn't have taken it as energy, he realized several minutes later, that he could have been obedient to his fear. The fear was worth it. Joan jammed him with a cold response.

The negative answer was supposed to be the cue for Don to back away and give up on his fueling love, but he had never been one to give up and could never be one to give up. A challenge pushed him further beyond his limits and that's what he chose to see in the answer Joan gave him that day. Don did stop one thing though. He stopped stalking her at the law firm. He stayed in his office and pretended to concentrate on his job while he thought of other ways and implemented those ways, all in a bid to win Joan's heart.

It didn't take so long before Joan sought him out herself. She asked him on a date and it was exactly what Don was expecting after six months of hiding his face, and at the same time, showering her with love in all spheres of life. He delivered flowers with her favorite fragrance to her doorstep- he found out the fragrance through one of her colleagues at one who accepted a token- sent sweet messages of encouragement before every of her court trials and helped investigate whenever he figured that she was hooked.

It didn't take long for her to fall in love with him the same way he was with her. An exhilarating win. Six months later, they got married. They gave birth to Edith in the first year of their marriage. Everyone said the universe had shone a smiling face on them. They both loved children and it made raising their firstborn child easy. Everything went smoothly. It got even better when Joan got a promotion at work and Don was promoted to the level of professor at the university. If anything, it felt like their union and love made life all the easier.

They didn't have the best life but they were living the best life. Finances couldn't breach love. At least, that was what Don thought until the situation took a sharp turn off its rich course. Edith was getting sick often. It didn't end there. She was barely eating, barely interacting with humans, barely communicating properly. Her face was always shallow, her eyes hollow and her demeanor as though she had no more life in her. They were frustrated, Don and Joan.

No one could decipher what went wrong with the lovely little girl in such little time. Several tests, from the blood to her organs were carried out in the hospital, and when they figured out exactly what was wrong with Edith, a thick cloud swallowed their sun of goodness. It was as though an arrow so sharp cut through the overwhelming happiness that shrouded them like a balloon.

This was the only explanation for Joan's outburst that night.

Don entered the bedroom after his wife, an action he took after much hesitation. She was undressed in the middle of the room, in front of the mirror, turning from side to side, checking out her body, and packing her long black hair into a bun. Don started to undress, shying away from the looming argument he could sense with the tension that lingered between them in the room. After a few silent seconds, he walked over to his wife and wrapped her in a hug from behind. She flinched, threw off his hands, and walked away from his reach. It was the second time in a row that she rejected his hug that night. He fought the annoyance that boiled within him.

"For how long will you do this Joan?" He sucked in a heavy breath and allowed his arms to fall helplessly by his side.

"Do what?" Her voice was void of emotion, refusing to mirror the anger painted all over her face. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, flipping through her phone. She was draped in a robe that she retrieved from her closet when she walked away from him.

"Why won't you let us try for another child? It's been eight years since you didn't allow us to give birth to another. Why?"

"You know exactly what is wrong with me, Don. I cannot risk it. I don't wish to have the same result a second time. I would rather die." She looked at him in the eyes as she muttered the last four words through her teeth. His muscles tensed but he didn't move. She stood up and walked around the room to nowhere in particular. Don breathed in and out and in and out again.

"The doctor said it isn't generic. Because Edith has a genetic problem doesn't mean every one of our children would have the same condition. Even if it's for Edith's sake. She needs a sibling, someone who looks up to her, someone to encourage her, someone to love her, someone with whom she'll grow up. Who knows? What if it helps her?" Don moved closer to Joan but didn't touch her. Joan moved back towards the mirror. Her face held something different, gone was the anger, worry in its place.

"I'm scared. Hell! I've been scared for the past six years. Since the doctor gave his diagnosis about Edith and told us the cause and root of her problems. I thought it would get better, that a sort of miracle would occur and my baby would be fine. I've built hope upon hope, waiting and expecting, but nothing is happening. She's getting worse." The anger was back in Joan's face and her eyes accompanied the emotion with tears. "Look at us. We ought to be living better. Things should have completely changed. We shouldn't be struggling this way." She sniffed.

"Indeed, things have changed, but only for the worse." She sniffed again, grabbed a tissue from the table, and wiped her tears. "I can't be the only one who sees it, Don. Don't you see it too? We have moved from bad, to worse, to worse. Who knows what next it's going to be? I'm freaking frustrated. I can't do this anymore. I don't want to do this anymore. I don't want to take care of my eight-year-old child like she is still two years old. With this kind of trauma, you ask for another child? I can't." She sobbed. Her legs melted underneath her, and her knees grew weak as she sank to the ground. Don could see the sadness in her eyes, the way it took over the tension in the room. His heart ached, he lowered himself to her and caught her in an embrace. She didn't fight him.

"I'm sorry, Joan." His hands ran up and down her arms, to her shoulder and hands, multiple times. He lifted her and guided her to the bed.

"I'm sad for Edith. What if she never grows up like her mates? What if she doesn't get well ever again? There is no cure, and I can't stop thinking about how worse it could get. What if she died suddenly?"

"Worry and pity isn't the answer. We shouldn't stop showering her with love. Even if it means that we take care of her like a two-year-old. A miracle could still happen, just like you are hoping. Don't let go of hope." He held her face in his hands as he spoke every word. They were seated by the edge of the bed. When Joan stilled in his arms, he planted a kiss on her lips, and in a matter of minutes, they slept arm in arm.

***

Is it possible to love and also fear the same person? Don came to realize the possibility two years after his marriage with Joan.

Joan was the defense lawyer for a murder case. The detectives and prosecutors were convinced that a woman killed her husband. Joan was convinced that the woman killed her husband out of self-defense. Several investigations showed that the woman was repeatedly abused by her husband for the number of years they were married. Doctors' reports couldn't be argued against, body marks and scars were too much evidence against her husband, but the prosecution still thought the woman had been planning her husband's death since they got married.

Don thought the accusation was absurd, the man was beyond a reasonable doubt a murderer. The couple had been married for over fifteen years. Could the woman have been planning to kill her husband for so long, while tolerating the physical abuse and molestation and also, giving birth and nurturing her children in such an atmosphere? Why not end it as soon as she wanted to? But the irony was, that it was also plausible. The police retrieved a diary from the woman's belongings. The diary recorded bizarre manners she had armed her husband. The autopsy found traces of the scars that matched the description in the diary on her husband's body, but the woman argued that all she ever did was in self-defense against her husband. If the woman indeed killed her husband, Don thought that she was evil but he chose not to believe the woman was wicked.

Joan won the trial, the woman was acquitted on the premise that she did all in self-defense. Joan's argument during the trial sauntered from blank to emotional, to anger, to emotional, to blank. She captured every heart into believing without reasonable doubt that the woman did all she did in a bid to protect her children and herself from future harm, self-defense. It would have been fine. Don would have congratulated his wife and celebrated her wins, but he overheard a conversation. One that shook him beyond his skin to the strongest of his bones. One that caused his heart to become heavy in its position, one that constricted his lungs and brought the fear of his wife to the forefront of his brain. He wondered if his wife could also do the same. Different thoughts rushed into his head, thoughts that made him ask himself if he really knew his wife, his own Joan.

The woman didn't do anything in self-defense as she claimed. Don clearly heard her thank Joan for convincing the judge to believe her words. The woman killed her husband, she had known she would since the day they got married, and she married him to kill him. She knew he was an abusive man. To put an end to his oppression, she married him, submitted for several years, and then took the action she'd always planned to do. To her, she was doing humanity a huge favor. No one had to suffer from him anymore, she thought. The illusion of a psychopath. No word could describe her better. She communicated how she killed suggestions in her head about reporting her husband to the police. She thought a long jail term would never be enough punishment for him. No. Never. That's what she told Joan.

Joan saved the woman because she believed that the woman's actions were justified. No violent man deserved a life of peace and love and that's where the fear erupted for Don. Since she knew the court would not accept, she decided to twist the situation and still get the woman acquitted. The woman he married was capable of doing anything as long as she believed that her actions were justified, irrespective of the consequences.

Don woke up the night after their argument and realized his wife thought just that, her actions were justified. The two had gradually settled on a routine every morning. Joan always had to resume early at work, she worked in the mornings and came back home before Don had to resume work. Don turned three hundred and sixty degrees on the bed and that was enough evidence that Joan had left the bed. Sometimes, she cooked breakfast. Other times, Don was left with that task.

He stood from the bed and headed to his daughter's bedroom with the little hope he had left in his heart. The quietness and stillness of the house as he approached the room preached that Edith was still asleep. He turned her doorknob and walked into the room. He tiptoed to the windows, lifted the blinds, and slowly turned his eyes to look at his daughter stretching on the bed as a reaction to the light that illuminated the room. Her hands flew above her head and her body twisted like a worm. Her eyes flickered open and a smile was buried on her face. For a split second, Don could argue that his daughter was fine. It didn't last until a few seconds later when she opened her mouth to greet him.

"Dada," Her mouth curled up, her tongue doing the talking. She giggled and Don knew without a doubt that she was giving the two-year-old behavior. He didn't allow himself to be affected. He had come to convince himself that she was still his strong, smart, beautiful daughter. The smile still on his face, he launched forward, carried her, threw her in the air, and caught her steadily in his arms. He did it a few more times before carrying her into the bathroom. His hands ached a little. The fact that she behaved like a toddler didn't mean that her weight was synonymous with a toddler's.

Edith wasn't always helpless, wasn't always a burden, and wasn't always a child who needed constant support. When Edith was born eight years before, she looked like the smartest kid Don had ever seen all his life. Her black hair mimed her mother's, her brown eyes copied his. She had the most beautiful pink lips and glowing black skin. It didn't seem like she inherited it from either her mother or him. It stood out. Her small hands were curled and Don was sure that he had given birth to a smart fighter. Joan and Don put a lot of effort into raising their child properly.

The story changed when Edith clocked two. Her behavior was obscure, and at the very beginning, they thought that she was sick, probably with a mild fever. She stopped eating as much as usual and didn't walk so much, preferring to remain seated for long hours of the day. She didn't say a lot, just a few words here and there. It took a week for Don and Joan to realize that what was happening was abnormal. They took her to the hospital.

A simple sickness, or perhaps a simple surgery, that's all they were expecting, not the kind of result they got. It was weird when the doctor said he had to do a lot of tests, brain, blood, and so on. He did a lot of scans too and it was agitating. Edith wasn't getting better and it seemed no one knew what was wrong with her. They came to know what was wrong with her, a few days later when the doctor came up with his diagnosis. Edith had Rett Syndrome.

Don had never heard anything like it. The bizarre look on the face of his wife that day confirmed that she didn't either. The doctor must have either read the confusion on their faces or known that the disease was so rare, that an average human couldn't know what it meant. The sad thing was, that the more the doctor explained, the more they wished they didn't know about the disease. One thing they both knew for sure was that their lives were never going to remain the same again. The bright future they hoped for got bleaker right in front of their eyes. Hope was further lost when the doctor said there wasn't any identified treatment at the moment. All their walls came crashing down. Don and Joan held a blank stare until the doctor led them back to their two-year-old. The sight of the girl brought tears to both their eyes and sorrow to their hearts. Two days later, Edith seemed to get better.

A new surge of hope coursed through the couple as Edith returned to the stage of growing like every normal child. She didn't show the symptoms that the doctor predicted and for years, they believed that she would be fine, that she was fine. She was registered in an elementary school and her learning was fast. Teachers in her school also testified to her intelligence. Some who knew Don well claimed she got it from him. She was indeed the smart child Don thought she would be, a child to always make him proud.

The symptoms came back again when Edith was six years old. It was worse than when she was only two. She forgot who she was, she behaved like a two-year-old, she couldn't wash her teeth by herself, and she couldn't take her bath anymore. She was helpless without someone to help her. The situation in the hospital was still the same. There was no cure for the rare genetic disorder Edith had. There was no cure for the damage it continued to cause in her brain.

Without the ability to fend for herself, Don and Joan had to come up with a routine that prioritized their child. The last two years had cost them money, time, and almost, their jobs. Edith wasn't getting any better, couldn't get any better and if the doctor's diagnosis was true, she would never get better. Don wasn't willing to give up fending for her, but it seemed like Joan was.

It was why she had the argument with him the night before, she was trying to communicate every reason why she was trying her best and didn't wish to anymore. Don tried not to think too much about it.

He completed the bathing and dressing for Edith and carried her off to the dining table. He didn't know what he was to expect after her outburst the night before, but he was glad that she made breakfast and set the table before leaving for work. He fed Edith who remained quiet throughout. It wasn't long before she was sleeping again. Don carried her back to the bed in her room and returned to do some chores. He gathered the laundry, loaded the plates in the dishwasher, and ironed some clothes that were previously washed. He was returning his clothes to the wardrobe when he realized that eighty percent of Joan's clothes were gone, if not all. The clothes that were left seemed like things she didn't wear, clothes she had abandoned and was no longer interested in.

He looked around the room and noticed more differences. It appeared like Joan packed away most of her belongings. Don felt his throat become dry and his lungs constricted, he couldn't breathe. He took in sharp breaths, gasp after gasp, but his insides clogged and his heart felt squeezed. He tried to breathe again, he was lucky to find life. His phone vibrated in his pocket. It was a message from Joan.

It read, "I have a message for you in a letter on the dressing table. Don't try to look for me."

The last line of the message caused Don to tremble. With shaky legs, he walked towards the dressing table. Joan's entire jewel and jewelry boxes were gone. In its place was a neat envelope. Don tore it open. It was housing a letter as Joan said. Before he opened the letter, he prayed under his breath that it wouldn't be what he thought. It was exactly what he thought.

Hey Don,

You should have seen this coming. I played pretty obvious and you've seen me in action to add two and two together for every decision I make. My actions are justified, I am not being wicked, I told you in clear terms that I can't take care of Edith anymore. It is taking too much toll on my finances and my job. I didn't become a lawyer, or get married simply because I wanted to spend it on a useless child...

Don grimaced at Joan's use of the word 'useless' to describe their child. It felt like a dagger cut open his chest and jabbed directly at his heart. He skimmed over, inhaled, and continued reading.

My career is at stake for as long as I keep you and Edith as my priority. You know that's not me. I am never and will never be one to choose a family that drains me over myself and my work. I promise to support you and Edith with the new income I make at my new place of work. It's the same law firm, just in a different city in another country. You shouldn't bother about me. I can take care of myself just fine.

Bye,

Joan.

Don squeezed the paper so hard that his veins could have popped out of his hand. He cried. Joan couldn't do this to him. He shot out of the room and raced towards his car outside the house, in the garage. As he stepped into the garage, he realized that he hadn't picked up his keys, he ran back into the house, retrieved the keys, and returned to the car. He started the engine before he realized that Edith was in the house and he couldn't leave her alone. He screamed a very loud scream.

He threw his hands at the steering wheel and banged it so many times that his hands cried. Tears spilled from his eyes as he dragged himself back into the house. He carried Edith with him back to the car and drove off to Joan's office. He knew before he got there that she was gone. He knew no one would answer him or give him any information about where she was.

When he got to her office, it was just like he imagined, no one was willing to divulge any information even if they knew. Dejected, he headed back home with Edith still sleeping in the back seat.

The journey home was long and his mind traveled to the argument he had with Joan the previous day. If he didn't notice anything, the similarity in the mode of her argument the night before and the way she argued for the woman who killed her husband was screaming at Don in the face. One thing was for sure, Joan didn't think she did anything wrong. She didn't just start the plan to leave either. To her, her actions were justified.