Shadows

On a suburban street in Northern California, near the Nevada border, a once -bustling home lays dormant. A wildfire in Oregon leaves the air heavy. Daniel steps from his car, long cold. He closes the voicemail from his wife.

She would take the kids. His briefcase weighs him down on his way to the front door. He leaves his phone behind. He pulls his key from his key ring, but is unsurprised to find the door already unlocked. He’s not stricken by the implication. He doesn’t reach for the light, he doesn’t have to.

“You told her everything,” he says dully as the foyer comes to life. Abandoned books and bags litter the floor while his eldest son's letterman jacket mocks him from the banister. He kicks the door behind him. The motion feels sedated. A decade passes before it clicks closed.

Kamal cradles a newborn in his arms. He’s dressed in a grey suit and snake -skin shoes that Daniel once envied. He coos at the baby with a warmth Daniel previously didn’t think him capable of. “I do not like lies,” he says.

“I tried to talk to her. She didn’t want to have another kid. What was I supposed to do? I only wanted better for my family.” The infant fusses. Daniel looks away. His daughter in Kamal’s arms. The gravity of his mistakes is heavier than he realized.

“They all do; I am not often turned down. You are the first one who has broken the rules, however. Blatantly, at that,” Kamal tuts, “I will admit I am at a loss of how to remedy this situation.”

“Just take her,” Daniel replies. He doesn’t allow himself a glance at her soft, tufted hair or the grass green eyes that have occasionally roamed in his direction as he speaks.

“That is not how this works, I am afraid. She was to be raised by the two of you. I suppose I could send you a wife,” Kamal trails off into contemplative silence.

“Helena won’t come back,” Daniel scoffs, “She wouldn’t even tell me she was leaving to my face.” He sets his briefcase on the floor and loosens his tie. He feels haggard and well -worn like the books in the parlor to his left. His gilded bar cart heralds him with a glint of light.

Evan, Kamal’s guard, leans against a doorframe while his boss ventures closer. Daniel pays them no mind as he pours himself a scotch and swallows it. He rests, glass in hand. He breathes. He pours himself another and his eyes water. He downs yet another into his empty stomach and blinks hazily. The world outside no longer exists, it’s only here with his misdeeds and the child that became of them.

“Helena could not return if she wished to,” Kamal replies sympathetically. Daniel inhales yet another drink and pretends the burn in his throat is from the liquor.

Helena was his reason, once. They got lost in life and the kids. Daniel let her go as his law practice failed. Kamal continues, “She would not agree to keep quiet and I did not have the patience to search for her price. I am sorry for your loss.”

Instead of reaching for the decanter, Daniel quietly opens a hidden drawer in the bar. He fingers a loaded revolver tucked inside. The metal is smooth and cool in his sweaty palm.

“My children?” he slurs. Aleia, his daughter, cries out. His beautiful baby girl in the hands of a monster. He can’t fix this. He can’t fix any of this. Kamal bounces her to quiet her. Daniel puts the barrel to his chin.

“They are fine. I am here to discuss our options, and to return them to you. My child still needs to be-” Kamal cuts off with a sigh when the shot rings out. He steps out of the path of a stream of urine nearly to his shoes as Evan pushes away from the wall. Kamal rocks the child when she keens in the night, the first lonely melody of the ballad of her life. He turns her away from the spray of her fathers blood, red and slick across a cream -colored wall.