One Last Night With My Son's Daddy

NAOMI'S POV

"I am fighting myself not to continue loving you. You are from a different world than me. And I have nothing to offer you. You deserve much more.

"I am just a beggar, your escort who is barely surviving on the streets," I remember the words I used to recite to Salah.

Suddenly I cough blood and I am brought back to my reality hurriedly bringing a tissue to cover my mouth, then my eyes travel to the tissue. I examine the blood stains.

That covered the tissue and few droplets that have escaped and tinted the last letter I am writing Junior. I read the last line before I crumble the letter.

"There are things I need to tell you, my sweet boy. Things I want to make sure you know when I'm no longer here....

I crumple the letter and the tissue together, throwing them into the dustbin of my old, wracked taxi. Then my eyes travel to the side and I look into a side mirror to see my face.

I shake my head in despair.

My heart is failing.

I need a heart transplant. The doctors this morning estimated that I have about two months to live with my current heart.

The estimate would have worked for everyone, but it won't work for me. My heart will not live that long. I can't afford to do anything the doctors asked me to do to keep me alive longer.

I can't afford bed rest. I can't afford a balanced diet. I can't afford any more medications. Nothing.

There is no hope for me. Even if I got a donor willing to give me a new heart for free. I do not have money, or any health insurance to cover paying for a heart transplant, so to me, this means the end.

And today I have finally turned into a bitter woman after hitting rock bottom. I have lost the last most precious thing in my life. The only thing that meant everything to me. TIME.

I turn mt face to my open diary on the passenger seat with my handwritten final wishes. I owe myself to go through at least a few things written in there for the last time.

The topmost final wish is meeting Salah for the first time after five years. That is what has led me here now. Sitting in my car and staring outside.

My eyes travel to a vast lawn in front of me, and beyond a garden surrounded by about twenty trees, stands a private mansion that has stood the test of time.

This one belongs to one of the Mohammed brothers and is used privately by the one and only Salah Said Mohammed.

Salah was born into a successful business empire. The HALIQ group of companies. The multi-billion-dollar companies that have been around for generations.

He is among the current generation of the Mohammed brothers running their group of companies. Salah is among the youngest, rich, and most famous eligible bachelors of our time. He is the heir to the HALIQ enterprises.

He only visits the mansion in front of me for his private affairs. His home is where his entire family resides in the HALIQ field mansion, the biggest house in the Empire state but also the largest residence in the entire country.

If I ever told anyone that I had met Salah in person, dated him for a whole year. And he is the father to my four-year-old son, Junior. No one would dare to believe me.

I am that girl that has never had three meals in a day since I was born nor shopped for new clothes all my life. I have never known a life of luxury or comfort all my life.

It's not that I do not want to have all that for myself. But life has never given me the opportunity to experience what it is like to live a better life.

But even though I know all this, I could not stop loving him five years ago. Every time I saw him, my heart skipped a beat. It's like he was the only thing that gave me hope in my miserable life.

I know I should have never laid my eyes on him. Nor approached him purposely, knowing who he was. And the worst mistake I have done that eats me until today is that I truly loved this man.

Not for his money or his face. I loved him sincerely. I still feel as though I still love him even after five years with no contact.

Salah is the most discreet and serious person in his personal life that I know. He dated me for a whole year, and I was never allowed to talk to anyone about him.

I never even got to meet anyone in his close family or friends. Not even his bodyguards got to see my face for the whole year when I met with him.

Our relationship made me feel insufficient. Like Tina always says It's okay to be poor but being treated like a poor person by the person you love hurts.

Our relationship affected my self-esteem so much. Until today I still feel inadequate. That is why I hate him so much too as much as I love him.

With a deep breath. I dial my son's father's number and wait for him to pick it up. In a time like this where I really need money.

I am not calling him to ask for money but to show him my last sincere love and sincere hate. I haven't dialed this number in over five years.

Ever since he had abandoned me when I was three weeks pregnant. I have debated a million times to call him. Especially when his son asks about him.

But the circumstances of how we parted have not allowed me to make the call. After a few rings, a voice answers my call. "Hello?"

"Salah?" My voice trembles slightly, and I try so much to hide the emotions pouring on me. There is a pause at his end. "Naomi? Is that you?"

I feel tears prick at the corners of my eyes. It hurts so much. "Yes, it's me, Salah. I know it's been a long time, but I want us to meet again. Is it okay to meet at our usual spot?"

My eyes are still glued to his mansion and there is another pause, and then Salah's voice comes back, cold, and distant. "Do you need more money?"

Whoever cursed the rich to think everything is about money did them wrong. Instead of cursing at him. I swallow hard. Allowing him a moment of glory.

There is a long silence on the other end of the line, and I feel my heart sinking. I cannot stand him rejecting me today.

But then, finally, he speaks. "I will be there at our usual time. Do not come expecting money from me."

After sitting idle in my parked taxi in front of Salah's mansion for hours waiting for Salah. Time is up. It is after midnight now.

It is still the only time in our relationship that Salah is comfortable meeting me. I hate it. I hated he could only meet me at night and in hiding.

The only queue that still tells me It's time to see Salah is when the mansion lights up more than it always is. And all the security guards with the pistols at the door go into hiding.

As I step inside the mansion, memories of our first-to-last meeting flash in my head. I feel pain and betrayal. He left me bleeding on these floors of this house to die.

With no look back or remorse for the situation, I was in. And he sent his people to throw me out like garbage. If it was not for the old man, that picked my unconscious body on the road outside.

I would be dead by now.

But I am dying anyway.

What I am have planned is very dangerous. I am playing in a very dangerous territory. I know that. But I have nothing to lose for now. I am a dead person. Dead men tell no tales.

****

I wake up and my eyes travel to my four-year-old son, Salah Jr. on the floor, reading a book in our single tiny bedroom apartment. I watch him and pain washes all over me.

Pain from the soreness in all parts of my body from the rough sex I had with Salah yesterday. And the pain from the failing heart.

But the biggest heartache consuming me now is watching Junior playing happily in front of me. I cannot help but feel a deep sense of loss and sadness.

Why did God choose this path for me?

I always knew that raising a child alone would be difficult, but I thought at least I would be physically there with him all my life.

Preparing him every meal before he goes to school. To walking him down the aisle when he gets married.

I never imagined leaving him all alone without me in this world at four years old.

I debate in my head for the hundredth time whether my decision to choose to keep him away from his father was the right one.

And I conclude he deserves better than what his father could offer.

But now without me around. It's better to take that little his father can offer than have my son have nothing at all.

Salah Jr. looks exactly like his father, with the same piercing brown eyes and curly brown hair.

Tears well down my face. This was not something I thought I had to look forward to. I never thought I would have to say goodbye to my son and that it would be this painful.

His father is just miles away. And yesterday it crossed my mind to tell him about his existence, but I could not bring myself to do it.

My child would always be seen as someone that did not belong. His mother's son. Someone after money and status.

I do not want to subject my son to that. That is why I chose to raise my child on my own.

I wanted my son content with the little I could offer but happy. But as I look at him, I also feel a glimmer of hope. He is the most intelligent child at his age.

With curiosity overflowing him and a thirst for knowledge that is beyond his years. I know my son is special, and he will one day achieve great things.

I hope there is still this pure joy on his face when he is older too. "Hey there, handsome," I speak to him crouching down to his level as I hiss in pain.

"Good morning, Mommy. Are you in pain?"

" No...No son. What are you up to?" Junior looks up at me with curious eyes just like his father's eyes and shakes his head. It's never easy to lie to him.

"I am reading my science books, Mommy. Look, I just finished the one you bought me yesterday!" I smile at him, feeling a warmth spread through my chest.

I feel gratitude that even if I could not afford a daycare or preschool. My son is doing better than those in school. "That's amazing, Junior. You're so clever."

Then I cough out loud and blood spatters all over my hand to my nightgown. Junior stands up hurriedly and brings me a glass of water ."Are you okay Mommy?"

He enquires with his tiny, sweet voice. "I will be." I take the water and drink a sip. Putting the glass of water back in his hands as I speak to him.

"Thank you, my sweet boy... Can you wait for Mommy outside for her to change into clean clothes?"

He nods and walks in his tiny steps to leave me alone, but before he is too far, I pull him back into a tight hug and place a hand on his shoulder and give it a gentle squeeze.

"I love you, handsome," I say softly in between tears threatening my eyes. He looks up at me and grins. "I love you too, Mommy."

The moment his back turns away from me I feel tears rolling down my cheek.

I stand up from my bed and watch the sunrise from my window, the sun is shining bright in the sky reminding me it's time for my young sister Christina to get back home from her night shift.

The door opens with force, and I don't turn around to Tina. I remove my nightgown and throw it in the laundry basket.

She walks up to the basket and picks the gown up examining the blood coating it. Walking in slow steps up to me. She raises my face up so that we are looking into each other's eyes.

She has been crying. Her eyes are all wet. "Christina, what is wrong?" I bring her to seat on the bed.

"Can I ask you something?" she speaks her voice barely above a whisper.

"Of course, what is it?"

"How long were you going to hide all this from me?! " She brings my diagnosis report out of her bag. "Why didn't you tell me you are dying?"

I take the report out of Christina's hands hiding it behind me with my eyes widened in surprise. "Who gave you this?"

"Junior..."

'of course, it was Junior.' I shake my head. I can never keep a secret from him.

"Why didn't you tell me that you're this sick? I had to find out from Junior?!" Tina shouts angrily her voice starting to shake. "I thought we were supposed to be honest with each other."

I take a deep breath and look down at her hands. "I didn't want to worry you, Tina."

"But you should have told me," Tina's voice raises in frustration. "After mother. It is just me, you, and Junior.

"I am your sister. I want to be there for you, to help you in any way I can. You don't have to go through this alone." Tears are now streaming down Tina's face.

And it hurts to see her like that. I reach out to hold her hand in mine. "I am so sorry, Tina. I should have said something to you yesterday. I didn't mean to keep it from you.

"I was just finding a good time and I am still in shock, too. I didn't know how to tell you this. I love you, and I'm sorry for not telling you sooner."

She nods in understanding and holds me tight with comforting eyes that are filled with tears."You just stay home for a few days. That is a command...

"No more running around in that tax of yours. Don't worry, I will find the money. We need to get you admitted. We need to save you."Tina speaks, trying to keep her voice steady.

She stands up and paces around the room as she speaks her mind. "I will pay for everything. I will work extra hours at the bar.

"I will take out a loan. I will do whatever it takes. I am not letting you die on me."

I shake my head weakly. "Tina, please, you cannot do the impossible. I tried that too five years ago. And look what it did to us."

"Never say that again. You did what you had to do. Even if we lost Mother, we gained Junior."

"Do not put yourself in debt for me. I am leaving you in so much debt already. I do not want to burden you any more than I already have."

"You're not a burden, Naomi. You're my sister, neither is Junior and I love you. I will do anything for you."

"No, Tina... I won't allow you to do that. The only selfish thing I will ask of you is to check on Junior once or twice when you have free time. When I am gone."

SALAH'S POV

"You are not getting any younger Salah neither am I. Allow us to continue with the marriage preparations to Shamsi." My grandmother speaks.

I do not say a word as I raise my eyes to my cousin Shamsi who pretends to shy away sitting beside, my cousin and her older brother Haled.

My grandmother holds the highest rank in our family hierarchy. Followed by my father. No one in our family says no to her, her words are law in our household.

As usual, we are having an extended family breakfast, with more than fifty of our closest family members present. Like we have done every day of our lives.

"Shamsi is not only your cousin, but she is compatible with you, she shares your values and beliefs. She is a good match, and she is family. I need great-grandchildren from you ..."

My grandmother points her hand to me, "And you..." and then points her finger to Ahmed, my younger brother, who is sitting beside me eating his breakfast silently.

Ahmed puts his fork down ready to speak.

" Oh, Grandma, do you honestly think I would do that? Enter willingly into a loveless marriage just to secure the family's wealth? That is Salah, that can never be me."

And I pray that the earth opens and swallows me. My younger brother, Ahmed is not someone that cares about hierarchy.

He has a way of making sure the air is thick around the room whenever he speaks his mind.

"SHUT UP!" my father, Said Mohammed shouts, raising his angry warning eyes to Ahmed. My father's face turns red with anger, but he maintains his composure.

And the dining hall turns silent. Everybody at the dining table is scared. Grandma looks at Ahmed with a mixture of concern and disappointment. Shaking her head.

And she continues to pat her mouth clean with a white linen handkerchief before reaching for more Samosas on her plate.

With all this happening. My mind is covered with snippets of memories from yesterday. The memories of yesterday are eating me in a good way.

I had opened the door to my room in the mansion to Naomi throwing herself at me. The biggest surprise of my life.

With how we parted five years ago. I did not expect that... NAOMI...the test of her name on my tongue feels like I am eating honey.

If anyone had told me, I could have won the lottery yesterday and held her again in my arms. I would not have believed it.

When we broke up. I tried reaching out to her. And when I failed and the pain was impossible to take. I tried going on blind dates to replace her in my heart.

I tried everything. She had hurt my heart enough to stop it from loving her. But I could not.

I love Naomi so much.

I could not move on. I even had not had sex in five years since we broke up. And when she showed up yesterday asking for us to get back together.

I was overwhelmed with happiness. With Naomi again in my life, every family member on this table and their problems are invisible to me. She is the woman that has haunted my dreams for the last five years.

Since our breakup, my prayer was for her to walk back to me as a changed person.

I smile at the thought that for the first time in our relationship. She did not send a message asking for money after we parted with each other.

She has finally changed.

I hated the feeling I felt for all the days we dated. When I walked to my car and a message came along demanding me to pay for the sex and time we spent together.

For a person that strives in business transactions. Our relationship felt like one. And I hated it.