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max l vilder

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Gerald new he was going to get a girl and he was excited to get a girl. He looked forward to seeing his daughter and wife watch a movie together on the sofa and saying to himself my two girls are you most beautiful girls in the world.

But as much as he looked forward to that day, unbeknownst to him that day would never come. Or at least his wife Carley wouldn’t be there to see it, and he was about to find that out.

This was no doubt the happiest moment of his life. Before this moment it was the moment he had convinced Carley to keep the baby, and she had needed convincing. Having had such a poor upbringing, she didn’t see much potential in any man to be a good father or herself to be a good mother. She gave him two weeks to look after a baby doll, much like in those American sitcoms set in high schools. He aced it. She was so impressed that she agreed to keep the child gleefully, and even thought about if she might want more babies with him in the future. There were just two conditions, he had to agree that their baby would want for nothing and have all the up-to-date toys, clothes etc., and that if they had a girl, they had to name her Marilyn, after her first cat. He jumped for joy and promised. This was quite important to her because when she was growing up her clothes and toys were behind the times, and sometimes the food she was provided was out-of-date. She could recall one specific sandwich she was force-fed, which was brimming with furry, light green mould. She hated her father for making her eat that sandwich. He claimed it was a life lesson but the truth, she would realise while thinking of this years later, was simple. He felt like a failure and was offended that she was unimpressed with what had been provided by him. The minute she escaped his clutches she cut him out of her life and went gluten-free to avoid bread and the traumatic memories that went with it.

Before that moment the happiest moment of his life was their wedding day. She looked beautiful only to become more beautiful in his eyes every day. She was just under average height and had curves in all the right places and porcelain white, pale skin. She had waist length, blonde hair, a petite nose, and lips that, although small, were a perfect fit for her face. A face that he had the privilege of waking up to every day for the rest of his life…

The midwife approached him delicately. “The baby is fine. There’s nothing to worry about in that respect…” she wasn’t good at giving bad news. The doctor interrupted “Unfortunately there were unforeseeable complications… we did everything we could but..”

Gerald put his hand up to silence him, threw his head onto the wall and started wailing. Ordinarily when receiving bad news, he was incredulous. This only applied to trivial or mild let downs. The reason for this is his parents used to promise him some small token, like an ice cream, but then his dad would withhold the ice cream, denying its very existence. Eventually he would actually get the ice cream. Then one day he caught on, but his dad was so angry to lose the power to upset his son that he threw the ice cream in the bin right in front of him, to teach him not to be a spoil sport. From then on, he pretended to fall for his father’s schemes, in order to achieve the delayed gratification of a belated ice cream. This conditioned him to believe that when he expected something good he got it, no matter how likely it was that he would actually get it. Between this and his sister Abigail, or Abby, constantly tormenting him through physical slaps and the humiliation of having his pants pulled down regularly, his upbringing and attitude toward his family was very negative.

Then his grandmother died, on his mother’s side. She broke the news to him and he believed it instantly. But he had a plan. If he pretended he didn’t believe it, but that he’s pretending he does, then she won’t really have died, and his dad would produce her from the freezer. Weeks passed with him waiting for his father to tell him that his nan was alive, but he didn’t. in this time, he had blocked out that he was pretending she was alive and was certain that if he admitted the truth to his father that he would throw his grandmother in the bin. Then a thought occurred, maybe his dad picked up on his intentions and had already thrown her out. So he asked his mum for an ice cream, to get a look in the freezer, but seeing it void of his mother’s mother he instantly screwed his face and became angry. His mother replaced the ice cream in the freezer and drew another one of a different flavour thinking that was the problem.

He looked inside the bin and couldn’t find her there either, so he emptied it on the floor.

Shocked, his mother asked why he had done that, to which he replied, “I’m looking for nanny.” At this point he remembered that his idea to retroactively save his grandmother couldn’t work, and he collapsed, and now is unable to remember the rest of the day.

The evidence was clear, ice cream was his no matter what he was told, but his loved ones were gone when they were gone.

“Let us know when you’re ready to say goodbye to her and we will speak to the coroner.” He paused. “And when you’re ready you can meet your daughter, I’m sure she would like that.”

He didn’t know what to do first, say hello or say goodbye.

He chose to say goodbye first, he told himself that it was so it wouldn’t be hanging over his head but in truth, he just wanted to see his wife more than he wanted to see his daughter. He’d known his wife for years, he’d never met his daughter. His wife had a name, Carley, he whispered, his daughter didn’t have a name. As he whispered his wife’s name it occurred to him that he would never address her by name again or say anything else to her again. It was enough for him to collapse, and as he did, he breathed rapidly as he cried and reached out one hand to stabilise himself. He almost reached a chair, but halfway he through grabbing it he reached the conclusion that there was no point to it or anything, and he hit the floor. While on the floor something took him, possessed him, there was a point to everything, his daughter was it. He pulled himself up for her, for both of them, and he thought I am going to do this for our daughter and for you. But not for himself.

He entered the room, there was a sheet covering her. He saw a crease on the sheet where her chest was and mistook it for her breathing. In that instant so many thoughts and emotions entered his mind. There had been some mistake, she was still alive and breathing, perhaps whatever condition the doctor had misdiagnosed as death was still ailing her, still a threat. If anything happened to his beloved as a result of delayed treatment due to this mistake of believing she was dead, there would be hell to pay for whoever was responsible, not to mention the scare they’d given him by leading him to believe she was dead. That sheet must be bothering her. He flung the sheet off her face and just as quickly as he had realised she was alive, he realised she wasn’t and his imagination had been clutching at straws, and it was the exact same feeling in his heart as when he had first had the news broken to him. Naturally he collapsed again wailing and crying, no longer trying to be strong for her or anyone. The nurse helped him to his feet as best he could, and he again saw his wife. Her face in the short time she had been dead, was so pale and lifeless. One of the things he loved most about Carley was her keen vibrancy and that was completely gone without a trace, she wasn’t her anymore she was her corpse. There was no other way to describe it. Not her, it.

Seeing a dead body for the first time brought out this primal emotion in him. A bloodlust. A burning desire for revenge, to kill who or what had made him feel this way, had taken so much from him and his daughter. That’s right, his daughter. In all that had transpired in the last few moments he had almost forgotten her. “My daughter, I need to see my daughter.”

“I don’t think now is the right time.” Replied the nurse, supporting his weight.

“She’s alone, she’s all alone. She just been born and she’s all alone.”

“She’s not alone she is with staff, and possibly a volunteer.”

“That’s not good enough”, he bellowed. “She needs family, she needs her family.”

*

The day had come. Finally. The day that Gerald was going to meet his daughter. His brand new reason for breathing in and out.

She was six weeks old and beautiful, just like her mother, she even had a little bit of hair. Blonde. The same shade as Carley. The nurse picked her up gently and handed her to him. “Are you ready to meet your daddy?” She gurgled and looked jubilant. It was almost as if she knew what was going on. People often attribute more awareness than possible to newborn children, and sometimes even pets, and Gerald had never understood that, had laughed at that, until now.

She was in his arms, and he was at peace with the world. No. It’s not right. How can he be happy when his true love was not here to enjoy it with him. He was furious at himself, guilty, for feeling happy so soon after her death. And even more furious at his baby girl for seemingly not knowing that her mother had died. Just producing saliva and unintelligible noises like nothing had happened, like she hadn’t killed her mum. How could she not feel any remorse for what she had done.

He handed her back to the nurse and in an instant felt stupid, embarrassed, that he had blamed his daughter for what happened. He reassured himself that nobody was at fault and felt the relief of self-forgiveness. Then he felt guilt again for forgiving himself. All the emotions he had felt about himself and his daughter were unacceptable how could he just let himself off the hook so quickly. The guilt felt good. It felt earned, deserved.

*

Over the coming weeks Gerald bonded with his daughter perfectly. He tried his best to keep the house tidy, but with all the extra chores he inherited from his wife, plus the working of caring for a newborn, on top of his original workload it was hard. He tried his best and although the dishes were sky high, his Marilyn’s living space was always spotless. Her surrounding incongruous with the rest of his home, as her existence, being so joyous to him, was incongruous to the rest of his life.

He had bought her umpteen toys, rattles, dummies, teddies and the like, to honour her mother’s wishes. But all she seemed interested in was her father’s attention. Specifically, when he played peekaboo and pulled faces. Especially the look of embarrassment he felt when he once listened to the radio and couldn’t remember the name of the artist playing. He knew all the words and sang along moderately well, but not the name of the singer. This made him hopeful for her future, anyone who can take pleasure in the little things life has to offer was destined to have a happy and fulfilling life, he thought. For example, she was the littlest thing he had ever gotten but by far the best.

Of course, all the happiness he had experienced with, and as a result of her, still stung. But these days it was less the guilt of being happy, knowing that his wife couldn’t be, and more the remorse he felt for her never being able to experience what he could with Marilyn.