Taming My Cold Husband

"Any luck, Larry?" Leslie said over the phone, her fingers clenched around the device in hope and anticipation.

"I'm so sorry, Leslie," a voice rang out through the phone. "The gallery owner complained that your art was too avant-garde and not suitable for the theme of her art show, so she wouldn't bother showcasing any of them."

"Really, not even one?" she pressed on, clinging to the last string of hope she had left.

"Not even one. I'm so sorry. Look, I gotta go now. They need me back here."

She closed her eyes in disappointment and whispered, "It's okay. Thanks, Larry. Talk to you soon." She hung up shortly afterwards and sighed heavily, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. This was the fourth time her art was rejected from being showcased in an art show. Disappointment had become a daily phenomenon for her ever since she received devastating news about her father's cancer three months ago. She stood up with her shoulders still slumped and smoothed out the non-existent crease from her pale blue gown, then walked briskly to the doctor's office where he was waiting for her.

"Good day to you, Miss Harrison."

"Hello, doctor. How is my dad's treatment going?"

"Oh, I should be asking you the same, Miss Harrison," the doctor said in a gentle yet firm voice. "You haven't been forthcoming with his bills, and this hospital runs on bills. We can't go further with his treatment without payment."

The tears she fought so hard to keep under control filled her eyes to the brim. "I'm trying, doctor. It's... it's hard, you know. I'm all he has and he's all I have. I don't have any relatives I can ask for the money, so please bear with me for a little while."

The doctor's face softened, and he said kindly, "I know, Miss Harrison, and I commend you for showing up for your dad like this. But this is a message directly from the hospital board. They already found out that I proceeded to treat your father on multiple occasions without proper payment being made, and they threatened to have me arrested for breaking the code of conduct of the hospital. My hands are tied here," he said and sighed sadly.

"It's okay, doctor. I understand you're just doing your duty," she said and wiped the tears from her eyes, sniffling softly. "I'll try my best to raise the money for his next treatment. Thank you so much for your kindness and for bending the rules of the hospital for my dad."

The doctor smiled fondly and said, "I mean, rules are meant to be broken, are they not?"

"Yes," she responded with a sad smile. "Yes, they are. I'll take your leave now." She rose and said goodbye before leaving his office.

---

Gregory Harrison's ward was located in ward 34A at the northwest side of the hospital. It was one of the top wards in the hospital, booked and dedicated to catering to the needs of the elites of New York. Leslie had spent almost all her life savings to secure him a spot here. Leslie walked briskly to her dad's ward, holding a plastic bag containing his favourite chicken soup from his favourite diner downtown. She reached the ward and stopped to look at her dad through the small oval glass of the door. The man that had been a strong pillar of support for her all her life was now a shadow of his former self, with sunken eyes and an even more sunken face. He lay there asleep and tired at the same time.

She entered inside quietly so as not to disturb him and placed the plastic bag on the table, switched on the humidifier, and reduced the temperature of the AC.

"Leslie, my girl," a weak voice sounded across the room.

"Dad," Leslie cried out softly and rushed in for a hug but stopped midway, fearing that she might squash him.

"What's wrong? Don't want to give your old guy a hug?" he asked quizzically.

"It's not that, Dad. I'm afraid I might crush you," she said softly, her eyes filled with love for the man.

"Oh, c'mon. A little huggy hug never hurt anyone. Now come over here before I come to you," he said in an amused tone.

"Fine," she said and rolled her eyes playfully at him while hugging him like her life depended on it.

He hugged her back with the same intensity and said in a grumpy voice, "We haven't seen each other much this week."

"I know, Dad, but it's you who is to be blamed. You're always sleeping anytime I come over," she said and pouted playfully.

"Ahh, that's right. You know what? I think we should blame the doctor for injecting me with so many sleeping pills. I'm sleepy 95% of the time now," he said, raising his voice in exasperation.

"Yes, yes, Dad. It's not your fault. Let's blame it on the doctor," she said with a genuine smile playing at her lips for the first time that day. She was always happy whenever she was with her dad despite the circumstances.

Her dad noticed and said brightly, "There's my happy girl. Always remain happy and not gloomy, okay? Dad's gonna be alright."

The pain, disappointment, and frustration she'd been holding back resurfaced, and she clung to her dad's emaciated body and sobbed loudly for the first time in months. "How can everything be okay, Dad? Just how?" she sobbed.

"Shh, shh, shh, it's okay, my dear. Let it all out," he said in his most gentle voice.

She sniffled loudly and narrated all the bad luck and frustrations she'd been encountering recently.

"It's going to be fine, my dear. Just calm down," he soothed.

She finally calmed down a little and continued, "The deadline for the treatment is in five days, Dad. I can't raise such an amount in so little time, and this treatment is essential for you so that we can take the next step towards your surgery. What can I do, Dad?" she yelled, feeling disgusted with herself for not being able to provide for her dad in his time of need.

A feminine voice tinged with a touch of smug satisfaction rang out, "I believe I can be of assistance."

A tall, imposing woman dressed head to toe in designer clothes strutted into the ward like she owned the place. Glancing around the room, she scoffed in contempt as she took in the sight before her, sizing up the two people in the ward.

"Excuse me, what did you say?" Leslie asked, looking at her like she was speaking a foreign language. She glanced at her dad, and he shrugged, indicating that he had no clue who the lady was.

"I don't repeat myself very often, young lady, so I need you to listen carefully," she bit out. "I can be of assistance to you."

"Look here, lady, I think you have the wrong ward-" Leslie's dad started to say but was interrupted by his daughter.

"Dad," Leslie said, "let me handle this, okay?" She spoke softly, patting his arm. She didn't want him getting worked up about anything at this point. She glanced back at the woman, who was still looking at them like they were a bunch of nobodies, and said in a firm and resolute tone, "Ma'am, if you have any issues to discuss with me, I suggest you-"

"Let me cut you off right there," the woman interrupted Leslie rudely. "If you want to know why I'm here, meet me at the café beside the hospital in exactly 15 minutes. Do you understand?"

"But I don't-" Leslie never got to complete her statement because the woman just turned around and walked out. An unknown sense of unease came over Leslie.

"People are crazy these days," her dad said, his voice tinged with tiredness.

Leslie felt sympathy and heartache for the man, so she tucked him in and cooed, "We'll talk later, Dad. I promise. I'll tell the nurse to reheat your chicken soup when you wake up, okay?"

He raised his droopy eyes and questioned, "You're not gonna go after that strange woman, are you?"

"I have to, Dad, at least to know what she wants."

"Alright," he said and yawned loudly.

"I'll get some rest. Bye, Dad," she said and kissed his cheek.

"See you later, Les."

...

Leslie walked briskly down the hallway and stepped into the elevator, all while deep in thought. Who could this lady be? She seemed like someone of deep sophistication. What was she looking for in her dad's ward? Did Dad owe her money? She thought out loud but then crossed that one out. Dad isn't the type to go around owing debt, she said but still felt skeptical about the woman's sudden appearance.

The walk from the hospital to the café was about 5 minutes. She arrived at the brightly lit small café and spotted the woman almost instantly, mostly because she stood out like a sore thumb. She approached the woman's table, and she turned to look at Leslie with reproach in her eyes.

"Took you long enough," she said in a sharp voice that made Leslie flinch internally, but she maintained a calm exterior.

"May I take a seat?" Leslie asked, pointing to the only chair at the table.

The woman glanced up at her and sighed angrily, "You may."

Leslie took a seat despite the feeling of trepidation in her heart and said, "My name is Leslie Harrison. Maybe you could explain why you came into my father's ward and claimed that you could be of assistance."

"Claimed?" The woman scoffed smugly. "Did you just say 'claimed'? I don't make claims, dear child. Everything I say, I do it. Besides, do you even know who I am?"

"Am I supposed to know?" Leslie retorted carefully, her feeling of unease multiplying.

"My name is Eleanor Blackwood," she said, impatience tinging her words.

Leslie let out a small "Oh," and then it hit her. Blackwood wasn't a common name in New York. Only one family used that name around here. Her eyes widened in shock, and she gasped loudly. "Blackwood, as in Blackwood Empire?"

"The one and only," Eleanor said, the smugness evident in her tone.

"What's an influential person like yourself doing here, ma'am?" Leslie asked, confused. "I don't understand why-"

"Let me cut you off there for a second. I have a proposition for you," Eleanor said, settling into a more comfortable position in the chair.

"A pr...oposition? What kind of proposition would you have for someone like me, ma'am?" Sweat dampened Leslie's hands, and she swiped them over the sides of her dress.

"I'll go straight to the point. I know of your father's cancer, and I also know that you're financially unstable and can't keep up with the bills."

A flush of embarrassment came over Leslie. "H-how did you know? I thought the hospital was confidential about these things."

"Oh please, do you really think anyone can stop me from getting what I want? Besides, I was in for my monthly Botox check-up when you walked out the door. The doctor casually spoke about you with pity, so I decided to see for myself. Besides, your wailing could be heard from a mile away," she said, rolling her eyes.

Another flush of embarrassment came over Leslie, and she clenched and unclenched her fingers repeatedly. "So, what do you want with me?" she said in a small voice.

"My son Julian needs a wife. It is important for him to inherit the Blackwood legacy, and I think you're the perfect candidate," Eleanor continued, her eyes unwavering.

Leslie's mind went completely blank for a moment. A marriage proposal? Was she hearing right, or had she suddenly started hallucinating?

"Yes," Eleanor continued, her eyes unwavering. "Don't worry, it would be mutually beneficial. In exchange, I will take care of all your dad's medical bills and make sure he receives the very best."

Leslie's thoughts roamed wild. Is this some kind of scene from a movie? The deadline was almost up, and heavy bills still needed to be paid. But marry a complete stranger, someone she barely even knew who's infamous for being unapproachable?

Eleanor drew closer to Leslie, as if sensing her hesitation, and said, "I understand that this might be a lot to take in, but take this as a chance to save your dad's life. This might be the only chance you have left," she pressed on.

Leslie felt tears build up at the base of her eyes. Why did life have to be so cruel to her, leaving her to choose between her father and her future? She couldn't utter any words. Eleanor passed a small purple card to Leslie and said quietly, "I'll give you 2 days. Remember, the offer won't be on the table after that." She smiled cunningly, stood up, and left the café without another word, leaving a flabbergasted Leslie behind.

Leslie's mind raced as she thought of so many different things: her father, her future, and her ridiculous bad luck. What do I do now? Can I really go through with this?

Leslie got down from the bus absentmindedly and walked a short distance to her apartment building in Brownsville. This battered neighbourhood had provided a place for her and her father when they had nowhere else to go. Despite its high crime rate, it was where they called home.

"Hey, Les," a gruff voice sounded.

She turned around and found Ted, a local and a chronic gambler who'd been friends with Leslie and her dad since they moved in.

"Hi, Ted. How's it going?" she said.

"I should be asking you that, hon. Tesla's been worried about you. She says you've lost too much weight, and now that I see you," he said, sizing her up from head to toe, "I think she's right."

Leslie sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. "I'm fine, Ted. I just want Dad to feel better soon."

"He will. Don't worry, he definitely will," he said, patting her back firmly. "How about you come around tonight for dinner? Tesla's making those fried dough balls you like so much."

If it was any other night, she would've agreed in a heartbeat. But not tonight. She just wanted to go home, have a long hot bath, and sleep straight away.

"I would love to, Ted, but I'm not in the right frame of mind right now. But please send my regards to Tesla. Tell her I'll swing by later in the morning, okay?"

Ted knew that she couldn't be convinced otherwise, so he gave up. "Fine, but don't be too hard on yourself, ok, kid? Greg will be fine. He's one hell of a strong man."

He bade her goodbye and disappeared into the night.

Leslie unlocked the door to her apartment. Greeted with an air of loneliness, she retired to bed hungry, alone, and petrified about her future.

---

Leslie sat on the sofa in her living room, staring coldly at a certain purple card on the table as if she wanted to burn a hole through it. She had spent the past 30 hours in turmoil. She still couldn't understand the absurdity of this whole situation. She'd even tried painting something new to clear her mind, but all she ended up with was a living room filled with unfinished canvases and scattered art supplies.

"I have to do something about this place," she muttered and pulled herself together so she could clean the place up.

Her phone suddenly rang, and her heart leapt into her throat. It had been doing that lately, as if just waiting for a call that she hoped would never come. The sound of her ringtone woke her from her reverie, and when she saw the caller ID, an audible sigh of relief escaped her lips. Her tensed shoulders loosened, and a small smile played at her lips. She picked up on the fourth ring.

"Okayyy, why did you take so long to pick up?" a cute voice whined.

"I'm sorry B, I was daydreaming again," she said softly to her best friend Betty, her source of strength in both good and bad times.

"How are you feeling today? How's Pops doing? Is he getting better?" Betty questioned.

"I'm okay, I guess. No, scratch that. I'm in a terrible place right now, and Dad isn't doing too good either. I feel so helpless, B. Why is the universe against me?" she said and palmed her face with her left hand.

"Oh, don't say that, babe. It'll be fine. You know you can talk to me, right? I may be far away right now, but I'm just a phone call away," Betty said, trying to cheer up her best friend. Betty lived 3,000 miles away in San Francisco, but their bond was as strong as ever.

"I know, B, I know," Leslie said.

"Okay, so tell me everything that has been bothering you lately," Betty said.

Leslie confided in her best friend about everything that had gone wrong that week and ended with a sob. "I don't know what to do, B. I'm just so confused."

"Holy cow, are you serious right now? It's... it's so hard to believe," Betty said, her voice full of awe. "Don't cry, Les. If you cry, then I'll cry with you. I just want you to know that the decision is yours, and I'll be with you every step of the way, okay?"

"Okay," Leslie responded. "Thank you so much, B. I really needed that."

"It's my pleasure and duty," Betty said, earning a small laugh from Leslie. "I'll talk to you later, B. I need to go visit Dad."

"Okay, hon. We'll talk later," Betty said and hung up the phone.

Leslie took a deep breath, exhaled, and gathered her stuff to go visit her dad.

---

Pushing the door of her dad's ward open, Leslie was greeted with the familiar sight of her dad resting on the bed. He looked even worse today, frailer and more haggard. She felt tears prick the back of her eyes, but she had to stay strong for her dad. She steadied herself and stopped her voice from wobbling when she said, "Hey, Dad," in a soft voice.

Her dad turned around and beamed at her weakly. "Leslie, my girl, you came."

She nodded and crossed the room, holding his hand and squeezing gently.

"You don't look too good. Is there something you want to tell me? You know I'm always here," he said, squeezing back gently.

"There... there's something I need to tell you, Dad," she stuttered.

"Okay, dear, say it. I'm all ears."

She took a long, deep breath, her stance nervous, and said, "I've found a way to pay for your treatment. Each and every one."

Her father's eyes widened in surprise. "B-but how?" he questioned skeptically. "We don't have that kind of money."

She avoided his gaze and continued, "The lady who came here last time is Eleanor Blackwood. She... she gave me an offer. Her son Julian needs a wife, and in exchange, she'll pay for all your bills."

"You've got to be kidding me, Leslie. Marrying a stranger? C'mon, you can't do this. What will happen to your future, your happiness? Have you thought about that?" He said, his face tightening with worry. He tried to sit up, but Leslie made him lay back down.

"But you're my happiness, Dad. I can't lose you. I've thought about this long and hard, and it's the only option I have if I'm going to save you. I can handle this, I promise," she said, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall.

Leslie's dad made her sit on the chair close to him, his weak eyes filled with sorrow. "Leslie, dear, you're so strong and brave, my girl, but this is just too much to ask from you."

She shook her head. "No, Dad, it's not too much. I'd do anything for you, Dad, anything at all."

"But I... I just want you to be happy, my dear. My only wish is that you find the happiness that you deserve. Promise me that you'll be happy even in this marriage," he said, carefully cupping her right cheek.

"I promise, Dad. Don't worry, I'll find a way to make it all work," she said, placing a kiss on the palm of his fingers. "You just need to focus on getting better, okay, Dad?"

He nodded softly, and a moment of silence passed, the weight of her decision filling the air. "I love you so much, Leslie."

A lone tear escaped her left eye. She quickly swiped it and replied, "I love you too, Dad."

As Leslie left the hospital that evening, she felt a mixture of trepidation and resolve. She knew she was sacrificing her dreams and aspirations for her father's life, but deep in her heart and soul, she also knew that it was the right decision to make.

She arrived home and looked across the room, her eyes zeroing in on the purple card that still lay on the table. She walked over, picked it up, took a deep breath, and dialled the number written on the card. The receiver picked up after a few rings, and a cold feminine voice rang out.

"Hello?"

"Good evening, Mrs. Blackwood. My name is Leslie Harrison from the cafe a few days ago. I've... I've made my decision..."