Healed by the Super Power

The morning sun spied through the curtains that Sharon forgot to let down the night before. The light cast a shadow on her face with an intensity that made her stir on the bed. Her husband moved beside her and she opened her eyes only after a few hours of sleep. She had slept late, waiting to watch her husband go to sleep, wanting to soak in the pleasure of watching his calm face while he dived off to la-la land. Her eyelids flickered multiple times until she was able to keep them open. She raised herself from the waist up into a sitting position on the bed, her legs splayed in front of her.

Her eyes scanned the room for any other object she might have kept out of place like the curtain.

The bed was positioned at the center of the room as always. It wasn't like she could change its position even if she tried. The bed was made with a heavy wooden frame and a thick mattress. It had taken two handymen to place it in the position it was. There were two windows, one was fixed on the wall behind the bed, and the other was on the right side of the bed - the one with the lifted curtain. On the left side of the bed stood two doors, one had been left wide open while the other was closed. Behind the closed door was the toilet, the opened door led to the closet. Sharon sighed. She had also forgotten to shut the door that led to the closet. She had spent a long time searching through her clothes, trying to decide what was best for her to wear to sleep. Beside the door leading to the closet was an ironing table. The iron was plugged in and the socket was left on. In front of the bed were a large mirror and a dressing table that looked like it had not been used in a long time. Sprawled at the base of the table was Sharon's jewelry box. Clothes littered the room and erased the iconic beauty that the wooden floor and classy decoration was originated to give.

Nothing else was out of place except the few clothes on the floor - hers and Ray's, the misplaced shoes, the scattered jewel box, the closet door dangling, and the plugged-in iron. Thank goodness there had been a blackout through the night. It could have been a different story.

Sharon dragged herself off the bed and trod towards the curtain. She flung down its length and took another glance around the room. The beige walls looked as good as new. It wasn't obvious that the last time it was painted was about ten years before. She traced the wall beside the curtain with her hand as her eyes flitted through the environment. It had been a while since she studied the room, put things in order, and lived like a regular human. She bent and began to pick up the clothes from the carefully crafted wooden floors. She threw them into the laundry basket beside the door leading to the bathroom. She packed the shoes into the closet, put them in order, and shut the door.

She gathered the scattered jewelry, the rings, necklaces, earrings, nose rings, and bracelets. Every item told a story and as Sharon came in contact with each one, a longing jabbed at her soul. She hurriedly put the rest of the room in order and stepped out. The previously welcoming home hit her with a musky scent. She squeezed her nose and opened every window from the entrance of their bedroom down to the sitting room. With every step, she took in the gigantic size of the mansion she had lived in with her family for the past 35 years. She reminisced about the memories hidden within the walls. It sure felt smaller, comfortably accommodating Sharon and Ray.

Only two weeks ago, she had laid off the entire staff that worked in the house - the chef, the gardener, the housekeeper, the maids, and everyone she had to pay to keep working with her. The work was tolling in on her and she couldn't get used to keeping the house in order all by herself. It didn't make a difference that she occupied the visitor's room downstairs with Ray. It was difficult to dust the numerous paintings and pictures on the wall, handle the laundry and plates, and take care of every other place that needed cleaning. She'd had to reduce sweeping to only twice a week and the upper part of the house had completely been abandoned.

The open windows brought in flowery scents from the garden, but Sharon was not satisfied and there was barely enough time for her to do more. If only she were younger, if only Ray could help her, and if only she didn't have to let her workers go. Yet, she had to do what she had to do. She was never one to worry about the pay for the workers they kept in the house.

Even before they had gotten married, Ray had promised to give her a stress-free life. He employed all the workers and processed their salaries. All she did was put them in order, but the last few months had been like walking on fiery coals in flip-flops. It wasn't Ray's fault. It wasn't hers. Neither was it the fault of those who worked for her. Truth be told, Sharon never really knew who to blame. Sometimes she blamed nature, other times she blamed the universe and she would have blamed God if she believed in His existence. She didn't want to believe there was a God who oversaw the atrocities of the earth and didn't do anything to change it.

Things turned around when Ray could no longer work to earn money and the expenses of the house and its maintenance automatically fell to her. At first, it felt like no big deal. Ray had stashed away a large amount of cash and Sharon greatly believed that all would be well. She processed the salaries of the workers from that account, but when the account hit red the previous month, Sharon realized she had to do something. Her retirement plan wasn't as solid as she had believed it to be years before. The truth was that they were running out of money. Her visit to the bank the last time had done a huge amount in convincing her of that fact.

Sharon didn't make a lot of money. She never did. Schoolteachers made barely enough to survive, except they had an extra source of income. For all the years that Sharon spent as a schoolteacher, her husband was her extra source of income. He had told her many times to resign and relax and allow herself to be taken care of, but her passion wouldn't let her. She learned not to spend her salary and got used to adding the entire amount of money to her retirement funds. She never planned to use the money, she had hoped to give it to Will and Susan, her children, after her death. She never thought she would make use of the money. But the balance in her account was telling her otherwise.

She couldn't make an account of the money, couldn't tell where it went or what she had been using it for, but she couldn't blame herself or her husband. Living seven years with absolutely no source of income but only a string of expenses was bound to throw them into a haze of debts if care wasn't taken. The debts had indeed started to pile up. It could be seen in the amount of taxes Sharon had yet to pay in the last few months. The money she had left couldn't cover it. No one was making money and neither she nor her husband wanted to burden the children.

The only option that rang in her head as a permanent solution to the current situation was the advice Hilda had given the last time they saw. Hilda and Sharon worked at the same community school for years. The two were close friends, and so was Louis. The propelling factor was the fact that they were in the same age bracket, and they loved all children like theirs.

Sharon met Hilda at the grocery store about two weeks before. Hilda was surprised to see her and the reason was pretty obvious. Sharon never ran her grocery errands by herself. Hilda couldn't help but detect that something was wrong although the two had lost touch since Sharon retired. Sharon on the other hand was happy to have a diversion and someone to share her burdens with. The two women decided to have a quick lunch. Sharon spent the entire time talking about Ray and how taking care of him was taking a toll on her. Hilda was remorseful and sympathetic. Sharon didn't want any pity, but she couldn't complain either. It was at this time that Hilda advised Sharon to move to a senior community.

Hilda stretched forth her hand and held on to Sharon's across the table in the restaurant where they sat.

"You are going through a lot, Sharon."

Sharon's eyes were misty with tears and she sniffed.

"You should leave the big house, move to a senior community and you'll be able to concentrate on Ray alone. I know it wouldn't be easy, but I think you should sell the mansion and use the money from it to take care of yourself. Move to a senior community."

Sharon couldn't respond to Hilda. She didn't pull back her hands or cry louder but her heart bled. Sharon couldn't imagine herself leaving the house that bore so many memories. A house that told the story of her children and many firsts. A house that contained all she ever committed her life to. She could remember Ray saying he didn't ever want to leave the place too. Hilda couldn't understand and Sharon wasn't ready to explain it to her. Hilda patted her hands. They finished their food and left the restaurant.

She didn't think of the advice, not until now. Not until after she had received the call from the tax office informing her of the law she was defaulting by avoiding taxes for so long. Not until the bank informed her that they couldn't give her loans since there wasn't any collateral. Not until she woke up that morning with the world spinning in her head reminding her of how unfair life had been. She willed herself to stop thinking and turned back towards the room where her sleeping husband lay. Thinking about the house could come later.

Ray lay gently on the bed. He slept facing the ceiling, his arms by his side, breathing with due diligence. Her heart went out to him. She walked with steady steps towards him and he must have heard her because he moved a little. Sharon entered the closet, retrieved Ray's wheelchair, and slowly drove it toward his side of the bed. She abandoned the chair at the position she wanted and laid calm hands on Ray. His eyes flickered open. Sharon smiled. She hated the distance in his eyes, but nothing of her expression or behavior gave that away.

"Good morning!" She said with so much glee, that her energy shocked her. Ray tried to raise his head and she rushed forward to help him to the wheelchair.

"Goooood mor...n...ningg," His words were slurry and irritating to the ears. His head shook and his hands held fast to the hands of the chair. His legs were completely still. Sharon didn't stop smiling although she hated that she may never hear the rich baritone voice of her husband. She pushed the chair into the bathroom and set him in front of the mirror. She took his toothbrush, set it in his left hand, and guided him to brush his teeth. His right hand remained useless. When he was done, she helped him undress, set him under the shower, and washed him. When she was sure he couldn't see her, tears slipped from her eyes. She dried him and took him back into the room, and the closet.

She skimmed through his shirts and settled for a crimson cotton shirt and plain shorts. She combed his hair, styled it, and made him look as dashing as possible. It didn't matter that he couldn't do it himself, she would do it. She would make him as young as he ought to be. She wheeled him out of the room and down to the kitchen where she made a quick breakfast of omelets and coffee. Once again, his left hand set to work as he struggled to feed himself. He didn't say a word. For Sharon, his eating time was almost like his sleeping time. A long time ago, Ray made a rule for everyone to stop talking when eating at the dining table in the house. Hence, the silence her husband showed when eating almost made Sharon believe that he was normal and all, was well, would be well.

The sight she saw at the silent moment carried her mind off to the day she first set her eyes on Ray. On the significant journey on that train, the day after she decided to run away from home and live a life for herself.

***

The wind was misty and the clouds covering the sky made it impossible for the passengers on the train to believe it was noon. Sharon shivered in her seat wondering if her decision to leave home would be one she would regret or one that she would cherish for the rest of her life. She concluded it was too early to decide but she already didn't like the weather. She preferred a clear sunny sky to one infested with thick clouds. She hated the sound of rain and she could only hope the rain wouldn't fall. It wasn't the same for the gentleman that sat in front of her. Although he had not uttered a word since the journey began over twelve hours before, his demeanor piqued Sharon's curiosity. Sharon had come across boys, she had two brothers, and never had she seen one so quiet and given only to observe. She looked at his head, the only part of his body that she could see while looking straight ahead on the train.

If he so much as uttered a word, perhaps she wouldn't have been so curious to find out what went through the young man's mind, what made him so quiet, what made him enjoy the mistiness and cloudiness of the weather. She wanted to say something, to get him to open his mouth, to hear the voice of the mysterious handsome human. She knew he was handsome because a couple of hours ago, when she had to use the toilet, she caught a glimpse of his face and the brightness of his beauty escalated her brooding interest all the more. He was a blonde with brown eyes. Pretty brown eyes that reminded her of a cake well baked. His iris was caked into the whitest eyeballs she had ever seen and it brought the image of a full moon to her mind. She needed something, something that would shift his attention from the beyond to her, something that would make his eyes settle on her, something that would make her dwell on him. She leaned into his chair and brought her mouth close to his ear.

His head was resting on the window of the train, his eyes staring at the emptiness in the railway and the sky. She could see him from the reflection in her window. When her ear was close enough, she uttered in a barely audible whisper, "Are you running from home too?"

Like someone pricked with a needle, the young man lunged forward and threw his head back at Sharon in a rush. She jerked back nervously too, but quickly recovered and covered her face with a smile that screamed all shades of pride. That smile was her run-to weapon. She especially used it every time that she pissed off her siblings.

"What was that for?" The young man rubbed his ear, the one she whispered into and frowned at her. She didn't stop smiling.

"I needed to get your attention. Nature seems to get it more than humans. Also, I wanted to know if I was the only rebellious child on this train. So, are you running from home too?" She chattered like a dog whose latch was unleashed and set free after being held back for too long. A child could tell that Sharon hated to keep quiet for long. The young man was her new victim. He didn't respond, instead, he shook his head and faced the front again. Not giving up, Sharon leaned into his chair and whispered again. "I'm Sharon. What's your name?"

Sharon wasn't sure why she was surprised when he responded. But he told her his name. Ray. The name sounded like caramel in her ears. If she was curious some minutes before, it was either she didn't know the meaning of being curious or curious just wasn't the word to define how she felt at that moment. Her parents had taught her to beware of strangers, especially the male kind but Sharon didn't see Ray as a stranger to avoid. Rather, she saw him as a puzzle piece. He intrigued her and she wanted to know more. She probed again. "Where are you headed?" Her face was farther from his ears now that she was sure he would respond to her.

It turned out that they were headed to the same city. The only difference was that Ray knew his way around, but Sharon didn't. The rest of the journey was not in isolation for either of them. While Sharon enjoyed every bit of it, Ray confessed later that he wondered how his luck had brought him to meet such a trouble-filled, free-spirited human like Sharon. It was almost like they had gotten on the train together because they synced so well. Sharon was the fuel and Ray was the train.

The moment the train arrived at the last stop which was their destination, they alighted together and Sharon was in love. Only eighteen years of age, she was blooming with hormones that signaled her senses into believing that Ray was the man for her. Once again, the same couldn't be said for Ray. He was courteous and mature and knew for sure that he wasn't ready to settle for marriage at that time. He was twenty-five years old and the only child of his parents. His traveling was not rebellion, it was a business trip and he was sent by his father.

They parted ways that day. The fun and closeness ended like it never happened. Ray concentrated on his business trip and Sharon went about town as she had initially planned, except it wasn't as fun as she imagined it would be. Her mind could not stop thinking about Ray or his eyes, or his baritone voice that sent shivers running down her spine. After a month, Sharon returned to her town with only one mission in mind. To find Ray.

Her family was surprised to see her. She had disappeared without so much as a goodbye and even though they were worried, they didn't care to search because Sharon was always the wild goose among the hens. As disappointed as they were with her for disappearing and returning as she wished, they were elated when she reiterated that she wanted to get married. It wasn't long before they were disappointed again when they realized that the man she wanted to marry didn't even know where she was, not to even talk of proposing. It gradually dawned on everyone that her renewed presence in the house didn't signify the end of her rebellious phase. She was back only because she wanted to find someone and he just happened to live in that town.

Finding Ray didn't take too long. Sharon found him at last, but the hitch was that she couldn't propose to him. She had to find a way for him to propose to her. Her worry was unfounded because she didn't have to wait or even find a way. Initially, Ray thought he only got fond of her or was infatuated with her but the little time he spent apart from her made him understand that he was deeply in love with her. A love so strong it almost threw him into panic attacks in her absence. Her face always waltzed into his mind at unguarded times and there were moments when he missed her so much. A cousin of his friend was discussing a rebel Sharon who ran away from home a month ago and was back. He got curious and decided to seek her out. They got married six months later.

Sharon was happy to be married to Ray, she loved that his twinkling brown eyes, his blonde hair, and his honey baritone voice belonged solely to her. The early part of their marital journey was all smooth until the first problem ensued. Sharon had a miscarriage. It was a devastatingly tough battle for both of them. The loss of a loved one is never easy but they slowly recovered. The downside was when they tried again, Sharon had another miscarriage.

The total number of miscarriages Sharon had before her first child, was five. It was a period of darkness and she often found herself in the murky waters of depression. Yet, it was during this period that she fell even more in love with Ray. She came to appreciate his silence, his organized way, and the manner with which he handled her while she suffered. Not for once did he neglect her, he walked with her through the dejection, he walked with her to every appointment with the doctor and when Will came, they joyfully shared the special moment. He deserved to be her child's father as much as he deserved to be her husband. She couldn't stop loving him or taking care of him, no matter what. He was her everything.

Susan came after two other miscarriages, another five years after Will. After Susan, Ray advised that they stop trying to give birth to more children and Sharon agreed. Her body seemed to have done enough. Raising her children should have been a battle, but it was not, because she had Ray. He was with her through it all, he bathed them when she was sick or when monthly periods were too hectic for her to cope. At this time, Ray was already working with the military and making a good income for the family. Sharon didn't need to but she started to prepare for college. She was interested in improving her level of education. She didn't want to end up an unintelligent wife. Sure, she was smart but smart wasn't enough. She needed to be able to hold intelligent conversations with people.

Since Will was already in school, Ray hired a housekeeper and babysitter when Susan clocked one. He gave her enough space for reading and getting ready for college. He was the best support she ever had all her life, someone she didn't want to rebel against, someone who tolerated the best of her. She passed the entrance exam on the first try and got admission into the university to study Child Education.

It was another hurdle for her, but with Ray by her side, hurdles were stepping stones to greater heights. He had a knack for leveling them. Probably another reason she held on to him as both the love of her life and her lifeline.

They moved to the mansion the month after Susan turned five. It was beautiful and the children loved it. Ray hired a full house staff and she barely had to do anything. She took a teaching job in the children's school and told Ray it was because she wanted to be closer to them. Ray wanted the kids to attend a private school, but Sharon insisted that they attend the community school. She got a job as a grade four teacher and she quickly became friends with Louis and Hilda. Ray told her many times after the kids graduated to retire but Sharon had come to love her job and training kids so much. It was the first time she didn't listen to her husband. Years later, how glad she was that she didn't listen to him and retired all those years ago. Thanks to her retirement fee, she and Ray had come so far. Except, she didn't know how much farther they could go. The money was all but gone. It was the same as what Ray saved up. And it all began seven years ago.

The symptoms came subtly. It collided with the sole period when Ray messed up an important contract he had with the military. In due time they figured that he was duped, but there was nothing much that could be done to correct the error. Ray was never careless and no one understood what could have gone wrong. Being the meticulous and organized person that he was, the situation didn't add up. Ray was bitter for days and that's when Sharon started to notice it. The things he did not do before. He put his shoes in the wrong places, left his clothes on the bed, and spoke even less, and the times he spoke, his words were slow and slurry. He got angry at the littlest of issues. Nothing was weirder. Sharon decided they needed to see the doctor the day Ray fell asleep while eating and he fell. When he woke up, his right hand was useless.

The couple didn't know what to expect. They had been married forty-two years, almost forty-three at the time. Both of their children were married and although they lived very far away from them, it didn't matter because they communicated as frequently as possible when there was a need. But when Ray was diagnosed, neither of them was aware. They didn't tell their children or anyone else. Informing anyone made it feel like they were letting go of the string of hope that stopped the doctor's report from being true. They didn't want it to be anywhere near the truth. Ray flared up at the hospital and refused to be set up for therapy or to be treated. No matter what Sharon said, they were back home in less than an hour, acting like they didn't just receive the most devastating news of their lives. Sharon never pressed Ray to go for treatment or listen to what the doctor had to say about his disease. Just like her husband, she desperately wanted the results of the test to be untrue. She kept quiet for as long as she could. Long enough was one week later when Ray fell in the bathroom. She called the ambulance and Ray was rushed to the hospital, the same hospital from the week before. When he came to, he didn't resist anything the doctor prescribed. It was more like they realized that there was nothing they could do but succumb to the treatment given. All would have been well, it really would have been. If the doctor's diagnosis wasn't very wrong.

***

Ray was done eating. He wanted to speak, but Sharon wasn't up for it. She stood from the table and packed the plates into the dishwasher, carefully loading the machine. She heard him stand up behind her. She expected him to walk towards her, but his footsteps got distant with every step he seemed to take. Sharon turned to face him. He was headed towards the sitting room. Probably to watch the television, she concluded and turned back to the plates. She hated the life she had to live with him, she hated that he was reduced to the kind of person that he now was. Her mind was as clouded as her eyes and tears were gushing out like a broken tap. Because of the tears and how occupied Sharon was, she didn't notice Ray creeping up behind her. But she noticed his hands when they gripped her waist and she stilled in her position.

"I love you!" His voice was audible with the rich baritone, her favorite for the past fifty years. She wanted to cry out in joy. Her hands were shaky as she turned to face him. For a moment she wanted to believe that all was well, that her husband was back to himself but it was only for that moment. His hands slowly left her waist. Her face dropped in disappointment. His eyes were blank and the emotion was gone. He turned and went back to the sitting room. More tears escaped from Sharon's eyes because she had believed that he could be well. Ray couldn't be well. The possibility was ruled out when the doctor discovered five years ago that he made a wrong diagnosis. Ray wasn't sick with Parkinson's disease. It would have been better if that was the case. There was hope for a little recovery at least, but Ray had a disease that only possessed similar symptoms, not similar treatment mechanisms. The news broke their hearts, but nothing could be done. Ray was sick with a rare brain disease. The doctor called it Corticobasal Degeneration. Her Ray would never be normal again.

Sharon arranged the plates and walked out of the kitchen. With each preceding step, her heart solidified in only one decision, one that was best for the couple. Sharon decided she would move to a senior community with Ray.

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.

Soft music emanated from one of the apartments on either side of where Sharon and Ray lived. The music drilled some stillness and peace into the environment. Sharon stood on the balcony with a cup of hot chocolate in her hands. She wore thick socks and a long flannel gown. A scarf was draped around her neck. The night was cool, chilly, and misty. She tried to study the stars amidst the mist and heavy clouds. She blew into the cup in her hand occasionally and took a sip or two each time.

Only one star twinkled brightly and even though she wanted to see more than one star, the presence of that one calmed her.

Ray was in bed, neatly tucked and snoring away in his sleep. They had spent two weeks in the senior community, and as much as Sharon missed the mansion, she was forgetting what it looked like. Her memory could not retain it. She couldn't tell if Ray remembered or not, hell, she couldn't tell if he remembered anything at all. She took a long refreshing sip of her chocolate tea and sighed as she remembered Will and Susan's visit before she moved to the senior community with Ray. It would have been unfair to leave, sell the mansion, and disappear without informing their children of their decision. Sharon put a call through to Will the night she decided to move to a senior community with Ray. She didn't tell him what was wrong, only that he needed to come home as soon as possible.

"You want me to come home?" He answered the phone and Sharon nodded before she remembered that he couldn't see her.

"Yes. I have important information for you," She said.

"Is there a problem, mom?" The worry in his voice covered a distance in minutes that airlines wouldn't.

Sharon assured him that not so much was wrong, but she made sure to tell him to invite Susan too. Perhaps a family reunion and it had to be soon. They arrived on the weekend. For the first time since Ray was diagnosed, he was in the house with his children and they saw firsthand the magnitude of damage that his brain disease had caused.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Susan cried in a hug with Sharon on the first night. The story they knew before then was an abridged version of what Margaret and Ray were going through. Whether they heard it or they saw it, their hearts were bound to break. They couldn't have been more disappointed at the dilapidating condition of the mansion, its staff, and their parent's source of income.

Will was almost depressed. He accused Sharon of hiding too many things from him and enduring many things on her own. He reprimanded her for promising his dad to remain quiet and go through life like she was the only one in it. Ray, all through the weekend, barely knew Will and Susan. Maybe he noticed the difference in the number of people in the house, Sharon was sure that he couldn't tell who they were. Her heart was broken when he didn't recognize her, but it was different to see that he didn't recognize his children. Sharon didn't know when to bring up the senior community, but she found her chance at dinner the next night.

"We should do something about this." Will waved his hands in the air, directing his statement to Susan who sat on the opposite side of the dining table. It was obvious that he referred to the mansion and its state, and the state of Ray.

Sharon didn't wait for Susan to respond. She was sitting on the rear end of the table, directly opposite Ray who remained silent through dinner. If he could hear, Sharon was sure that he disapproved of them talking in the dining, but she didn't care. She ached to communicate the one thing that kept bothering her, to find a solution, or maybe to get Will and Susan to support her decision to move to a senior community. "We are leaving," she said and both Will and Susan paused eating. Ray played around with the food on his plate like a ten-year-old, pushing the vegetable to a side, tapping the fork at the edges, pretending to swallow a bite or two, when in fact, he wasn't eating at all.

The action pricked Sharon and she wasn't sure if he was doing it because he heard her say they were leaving because they were talking at dinner or because he simply didn't want to eat the food. She carried her eyes off him, knowing she could do nothing as much as she would have loved to. She waited for Will and Susan to recover and give her a reply.

"What do you mean by leaving?" Susan asked first. Lines formed on her forehead, her eyes and brows were creased, her cheeks were swallowed into her bones and the rest of her face was a swollen frown. Her lips were stacked like new crisp paper, and her eyes looked swollen and sucked into its socket.

Sharon took another spoonful of food into her mouth. "I want to leave the mansion with your dad and move to a senior community."

"That's crazy, mom." Will banged his hands on the table and threw them up. Ray trembled and the spoon in his hand fell. Will had always been like her, embodying the violence that she had since she was a child.

Will apologized and the rest of dinner was silent. No one spoke a word, not from the brewing anger in their minds or the annoyance that felt. Susan helped Sharon tuck her father in bed and once Ray fell asleep, Susan dragged Sharon out of the room. She led her back into the dining room, where Will sat in waiting after doing the dishes they used for dinner.

"So mom, what did you mean by wanting to go to a senior community center with Dad?" Susan spoke first and Will stared into space.

Sharon knew Will stared into space when he was annoyed and desperately needed to take hold of himself and be calm. He got that attitude from her too.

"I can't keep the house and take care of your father simultaneously. It's too much for me."

"That's why there was a staff, but you fired them," Will replied without breaking his contact with space. His face was sordid.

"It's not what you think, Will. Your father and I have no money for the upkeep of this house. We haven't paid the taxes in a few months. My retirement fund is almost exhausted. The savings your father and I made are almost completely gone. We can't afford things anymore, Will. The best solution is to leave."

Silence reigned for a couple of minutes. Tiny drops of tears fell from Sharon's eyes, soon Susan joined with bigger drops and loud sobbing, and soon, the three were in a big bear hug.

"What if we don't sell the house, but you still move to the community house with dad?" Will said as they separated from the hug. Sharon shook her head and wiped the lingering tears under her eyes.

"It is too much money. We may never come back here. It is best to let it go. We can use the money from the sale for other things. Let's not hold on to it."

"I'll miss this house." Susan sniffed and smiles spread across their faces. "Do you remember the day we first moved here?"

Will and Sharon chuckled, and Susan did too. Of course, they remembered. If they didn't, Sharon couldn't lock away such fond memories. On the day they first arrived, Susan and Will were so thrilled about the house that they spent the first twenty-four hours checking and checking, unable to sleep. When they finally slept, they were knocked out for so long, Ray and Sharon were sure that something was wrong with them, but they woke up eighteen hours later.

The night continued with the trio discussing funny moments, sad moments, and moments they thought would be close to them forever. They tried not to allow the sadness of Ray's situation to drown the joy of the night. Sharon was happy to shift her focus from the house and moving, and simply to reminiscing with her children.

The next couple of weeks would have been a hassle. Her children were out of the way, and Ray was next but as much as Sharon wanted his opinion of Ray regarding the move to the senior community, she knew it was impossible. He couldn't comprehend enough to give her so much as a comment. Sharon could tell that he would notice the difference nonetheless. She only hoped that it would be comfortable for them and make life easier for them. So she didn't inform him.

Thanks to Will and Susan, the search for the perfect community was made easy. They took it upon themselves to find a resting place for their parents. Sharon put the house up for sale and it got sold faster than anyone imagined. Almost as though a lot of people had their eyes on the property, the transaction was almost turned into a bid. Many people made ridiculous unbelievable offers and interests that Sharon was surprised she was even worried if the house would get sold at all.

When the presence of people wanting the mansion ever grew and didn't seem like it would ever reduce. Sharon told the realtor to sell the mansion to whoever gave the best offer at the time she made the call. The sale of the house helped the choice of a community center move faster.

***

The abrupt end to the soft music jilted Sharon from her thoughts. She took a drag from the cup in her hands and shivered. The cold seemed to be settling in on her, but she wanted to remain outside and enjoy the illumination created by the moon and balcony lights that were in the street. She wondered what might have brought an end to the music that enhanced her stay outside on the cold night. Her mind drifted into thinking that the couple or whoever occupied the apartment had found solace in something else.

She stretched a little and a sound threw her off balance. She caught herself before she could trip on her feet.

"Sharon!" She heard again. It was an almost inaudible whisper at first, but now the voice was louder. Sharon knew who it was. Whether in a whisper, in a normal voice, or through a shout, Sharon had listened to the same voice call her for fifty years, of course, she recognized the voice of her husband. What made her freeze in her spot was the fact that he remembered that he had a Sharon in his life.

She waited outside, not moving an inch, wondering if he would call her name again, or if it would be another passing moment. Passing moments became common since they arrived in the community. Moments when Ray remembered who he was and remembered Sharon. During times like this, he confessed his love to her or held her in a hug so long that she ended up crying. But those times didn't last. In a matter of minutes, sometimes seconds, he completely forgot and relapsed to who he was, who he now was. Sharon took hope in it for a while, savoring the possibility that Ray would be fine, but when made a call to the doctor and told him about it, she blamed herself for believing and causing herself another huge heartbreak.

The routine with Ray didn't change since they arrived too. The community provided helpers for every other situation. For one, Sharon was glad that housekeeping would never be her job again. The two months she spent taking care of the mansion made her dread the work and when she realized that the community provided someone to fix that, she was happy.

She never had to worry about housework since she was young. She was never at home to take care of such things and even when she was at home, she escaped it somehow. Love made her do it. The overpowering feeling she had for Ray, subdued her to the point that she cooked, did the laundry, and swept the house. Being free to an extent made her happy.

She had nothing to do with laundry. The community took charge of laundry, gardening, and even sometimes, the cooking. To enhance a social gathering among the people in the senior community, at least twice a week, the elders come together for a group meal. Sharon was so relieved on a lot of levels that she almost regretted not coming to the community earlier than she did.

The one thing that didn't change was Ray. She bathed him, clothed him, fed him, and put him to sleep every day. All she really wanted was for him to get better and for them to spend the rest of their lives in peace and enjoyment. She hated that his disease came in between them and wedged a large distance, she couldn't go to Greenland with him like they promised each other so many years ago. It ate at her every passing day.

Some minutes had passed and Ray didn't call her name again after he last did. Sharon decided to check on him. She adjusted the scarf on her body and turned from the balcony to the door that led into the room she shared with Ray. The room was dark, except for the light from the balcony that reflected through the transparent angle of the door. Sharon reached for the light switch and turned on the light.

The room was exactly the way she left it, but Ray was awake. He sat at the edge of the bed staring into space. Sharon dropped the cup in her hand on the table in the room. She walked over to Ray and held his right hand. He flinched. Indeed, the moment he called her name was just one of those when he remembered for a while who he was. He seemed to have completely forgotten in the little time Sharon stood outside, wondering if he would be sane forever.

"Why are you not sleeping?" She asked, but he didn't respond. His eyes were hollow and focused on the wall ahead of him. She shook him. His head fell forward and she caught him before he sank to the ground. A second later, he was snoring. Sharon sniffed away the tears that lingered in her eyes. She bundled Ray back to the bed. His hands and legs were cold. She withdrew another duvet from the wardrobe and wrapped him so that he couldn't wiggle out of the cloth no matter how much he turned. She placed a light kiss on his forehead, picked up the remainder of her chocolate tea, and exited the room into the corridor that led to the sitting room.

The sitting room was small and bore no resemblance to the large one at the mansion. Behind the sitting room was a kitchen. Sharon walked straight into the kitchen. Instead of filling her cup with hot chocolate again, she brewed some coffee. She didn't feel like sleeping. She filled her cup and strolled back to the balcony but not without taking another glance at Ray, making sure he was fine and turning off the light in the room. She shut the door behind her and sighed with heaviness in her breath. Tears slipped from her eyes before she could help herself.

Sharon could testify that she had cried more tears since she clocked sixty than she did when she was younger. The thought made her look into the sky. From a young age, Sharon doubted the existence of a god somewhere.

It stemmed from the death of one of her friends, Naomi, when she was younger. Naomi and her family were staunch churchgoers. Sharon thought it was admirable when she went to their houses, and they gathered to pray for whatever they wanted to do. She particularly loved how they said 'The Grace' for every meal. Once, Sharon even followed them to church against her mother's wishes. Her mother made sure to deal with her when she called back, but that didn't matter. Sharon was born a rebel.

The life-changing period for Sharon was when Naomi was diagnosed with cancer. She was so young, barely twelve years old. The family and church launched into prayers, or so they called. They called to their God, asking them to save their child. Naomi's mother had once told Naomi and Sharon to be good children because God always reserved the good and the best for those who were good. Sharon prayed hard for Naomi because rather than herself, Naomi was good. She was the type to follow her mother's orders and keep still wherever she was kept.

She never caused trouble at school and was very smart. It was one of those things that kept Sharon attracted to her. How could someone be so calm and happy at the same time? For Sharon, happiness came with causing trouble and never with sitting still.

The day Naomi died, Sharon was sure of it, and no one could convince her that a God existed. If he indeed existed and kept the good and best for those who were good, he should have saved Naomi from dying. After the night Naomi was buried, Sharon had nothing to do with her family and church ever again. It was when she asked Naomi's mother what she thought about God and the woman didn't seem to flinch about her resolve that God existed. Sharon wasn't willing to stay in the confines of such people.

She continued to bully others as always and didn't try to stop her bad ways. She behaved like an outcast in her family.

Another tear escaped from Sharon's eyes. She desperately wanted a God to exist as she stared at the sky, desperately wanted him to be one that listened and answered the requests of humans, desperately wanted him to ease her pain even though she never tried to be good all her life, except to her children and those she taught in the community school. A star twinkled in the sky. Sharon opened her mouth and closed it. She opened her mouth again, and the words flowed, her gaze still on the sky.

"I don't know if there is a god out there. If there is, I'm sorry that I haven't believed in your existence for so long." She sniffed, chuckled, and wiped her tears, feeling very foolish. "I don't know how to pray, I've only learned to hope and believe that what will be will be. But please..." She clasped her hands and cast her focus on the sky, her heartbeat rate doubled and her legs shook. Her voice was vibrating as she said, "Save Ray. Let him come back to his senses, take away his disease. Please. Just do something." The red star in the sky twinkled again.

Sharon bit back her tears and swallowed the rest of her coffee to stop her tears from reaching her mouth. She went back into the room, dejected. She was so sure that even if a god existed, he wouldn't answer her prayer. She dropped the cup in the kitchen and climbed into bed with her husband by her side. What will be will be, she thought. What she didn't know was that her prayer was heard.

***

Don ran as fast as his quivering tired legs could manage. He stopped almost every minute to catch a breath and resume his race to the pharmacist's shop. It was bad enough that Edith had suddenly caught a cold. Not that it was strange, she often caught a cold when the weather changed and became chilly. There were pills for when she caught a cold at home, but Don had searched the entire house to no avail. He couldn't figure out where exactly Joan kept the bottle that held the pills. He thought about putting a call through to her, but not only was it late, but he also knew she wouldn't pick up his calls.

He made numerous calls to her line since she disappeared. She didn't pick any and didn't return them either. She was gone for good, he was sure about that now. Or how else was he supposed to interpret her letter and the continued silence after that? Don couldn't admit that he was fed up. He wasn't tired of taking care of his daughter, but he was tired of doing it without Joan.

He stopped for a quick drag of air and bent his back forward, supporting himself with his palms on his knees. He looked ahead and wondered if the pharmacy moved away from its usual position to somewhere farther. He resumed his run. His body ached from the lectures he had at the university and the running around he had to do because of Edith. He came to a stop at the front of the pharmacy, sighed, and took three huge steps, skipping a step up the stairs each time, into the shop. He allowed himself to rest as he made his request and watched the person behind the counter attend to it. He still had a journey to make back home. It was risky to leave Edith by herself for too long.

He collected the package and dashed out of the shop. He glanced at the sky and noticed that it was cloudy and only a few stars peeked from behind the clouds. He wondered if they were even stars at all or just satellites pretending to be what they were not. The race back home was shorter and Don got home in time to save little Edith from more tears. He gave her the pill, some water to swallow it, and wrapped her into the bed. He started to walk out of her room, but Edith called him back.

"Dad, can I come with you?" Her voice shivered like the rest of her body. "I don't want to stay alone." It was the most words she had said at the time since her mother left. Don nodded and checked her wardrobe for a thick cardigan, he wore it for her, grabbed a thick duvet, and led her out of the room to the kitchen where he was headed to make a light dinner.

He sat Edith in one of the dining chairs and wrapped the duvet around her shoulders to contain the cold and stop her from shivering. He made a cup of hot milk and watched her drink as he fried some eggs and made some pancakes. She watched him steadily when she wasn't sipping from her cup. Don's heart went out to her. Ever since Joan left, Edith seemed to have gotten worse. She asked where her mother was, and he responded that she had traveled. After that day, she didn't speak unless she wanted to ask for something or answer a question. She woke up crying, and at other times, she slept crying. Don was never enough to appease her.

He could understand when things like that happened to her. It was attributed to the fact that a two-year-old was more attached to her mother than her father. He tried his best to fill the void her mother left, but no matter what he did, it made no difference. So, he resolved to be himself.

He placed a plate of eggs and pancakes in front of her. He collected her cup and refilled it from the jug of milk he prepared earlier. He sat opposite her and together they ate in silence. He hoped her cold had subsided. She was no longer shivering and she seemed to be using her fork well too. Don was glad he didn't have to feed her. He was starving.

A notification on his phone distracted him and he flipped through the message. Edith continued eating. It was another message from another day center. The message included a breakdown of fees needed for a person to be admitted to the center. He checked through and dropped his phone. He cursed under his breath, but when the action drew the attention of Edith, he smiled at her.

He had been searching for a day center. He needed somewhere to put Edith during the day when he was supposed to be at work. The emergency leave he took for two weeks ended last weekend and since he resumed work, it has been a hell of a ride. He was forced to take Edith with him to the office and keep her with the office secretary while he attended all his lectures. When he couldn't do that, he left her at the neighbors for the duration of his lecture, ran back home to take her, and on and on. He couldn't keep up that way. He was fast becoming a nuisance to everyone around him.

He abandoned his phone on the table and finished the remaining food on his plate. He watched Edith clear her plate too and finish the rest of her milk. Her cold was completely gone. Don couldn't be more glad. She watched him wash the plates and put the kitchen in order. When he finished, he helped her to her bedroom, tucked her in bed, and read one of her favorite bedtime stories. She fell asleep and as he walked out of the room, he turned off the light. He was about to shut the door when Edith spoke.

"Will mommy be back tomorrow?" She asked.

Don didn't know what to say. He switched on the light and smiled at Edith. "Sleep tight honey." He turned them off and walked away.

Don was in his room a few minutes later. He lay on the bed and tried to catch some sleep, but all he did was toss and turn. He was almost sure that if he so much as found a chance to visit the hospital, the doctor would diagnose him with insomnia. He barely slept. Even when Joan was around. His eyes opened at every discomfort, sound, or movement. He was always checking on Edith to make sure she was fine, didn't hurt herself, or felt lost in her room. It got worse with Joan gone. Sleep never found him and he wasn't willing to use pills, because of Edith.

He jerked off the duvet from his body and left the room. He went back into the sitting room. The sky looked clearer as he peeped outside through the window. Suddenly, he felt like sitting under the clouds and staring at them. That's exactly what he did.

The neighborhood was clear of souls as he stepped out to the porch. He sat on the last step, the one closest to the door, and looked up into the sky. The last time he had done this, he was with a devastated Joan. On that day, she lost a trial and her heart was heavy. She felt bad for the woman who would end up in jail due to her incompetence and the criminal who was on the loose. She was in a very bad mood and Don knew he had to do something fast to bring her out of the mood.

After forcing her to put Edith to bed, Don dragged her out of the house and made her sit on the porch, on one of the stairs. Her eyes beamed with confusion and her lips curled up, while her eyebrows took a questioning shape. Don ignored her body language and tried only to shift her mind from the trial. It didn't take long before she joined him to watch the stars in silence.

"Have you ever prayed?" Don asked her, catching her off guard. She shook her head and retained her composure.

"What about you?" She said.

"I haven't prayed before, but I've seen someone do it. I think you should pray for that woman."

"Really?!" Joan scoffed.

"What if there is a god that listens to prayers somewhere like all of them believers say?"

"What do you think it'll do?" Her eyes were focused on Don now.

"We can't know unless we try."

"Let's!"

Don explained to Joan that the person he saw praying clasped her hands together and stared in awe at the sky. The two of them imitated Don's description and prayed for the woman to be released and for the real criminal to be caught.

The next day, their prayers were answered. Evidence that solved both problems was found and the case was closed, but Don and Joan never prayed like that again. Joan concluded that it was only a coincidence and Don had nothing to say about it.

He missed his wife, no doubt about it. He missed the precious, smart, and little daughter he had. He missed the life he planned to live and was exhausted. Hence, he thought of doing something he thought he would never do again. He clasped his hands, looked into the sky, and cried with a loud voice. "Save me!"

"Can you bring Joan and Edith back? All I want is a family that stays together. I want Edith to be like and among her peers. I want to live like a normal family man. Please, help."

A red star twinkled brightly in its position. Don didn't know how soon an answer would come, but he wished it would be as soon as the other day he prayed with Joan. He hoped that there was indeed a god who listened and answered. That was all he needed. What Don didn't know was that it didn't matter if a god heard him or not, because the twinkling red star was listening. It heard him and maybe that was all that mattered.