Yesterday, I was sitting outside at a cafe in Portofino when I heard my wife’s laugh before I even saw her face. I hadn’t heard that laugh in three years. Not since her car went off the road and into the trees while we were in Italy. The cops found the car completely totaled, her purse inside, and enough blood that they just declared her dead, even though they never actually found her body. So for three years, I’ve been raising our daughter alone, kissing her mom’s picture goodnight every single night.
I’d only left our resort for like fifteen minutes to grab my daughter a birthday present. But when I heard that laugh, I just stopped dead in my tracks right by the display case and turned around. Sarah was sitting under an umbrella wearing sunglasses. She had a scar on her cheek and her hair was short, but there was zero doubt it was her. But the absolute worst part? She was holding hands with Marcus, my biggest enemy. The same guy who tricked me out of my whole business right after Sarah died, telling everyone I’d lost my mind from grief.
Marcus actually saw me first, but he didn’t look smug or scared. Sarah saw where he was looking and turned around, staring at me like she’d seen a ghost. Then her eyes dropped to the bag over my shoulder, where our daughter’s little yellow duck toy was sticking out. Her hand reached toward it, then just stopped mid-air.
I cornered her and started tearing into her right then and there. Marcus stayed calm, talked to the manager, and paid to get us a private spot upstairs so we could talk away from everyone. As we walked up the stairs, I noticed Sarah had a limp; her left foot was dragging.
We got upstairs, and before she even tried to explain herself or apologize, the first thing out of her mouth was, “Where’s Lily, Harry?”
Did she deserve to know about her daughter? Not at all. Not after she apparently faked her own death and left that poor girl behind. But after all, she was still Lily’s mother, so I told her Lily was back at the resort, crying and asking why her mother only exists in photos.
I set Lily’s birthday present on the table and demanded to know what the hell was going on. Hearing the truth didn’t make it hurt any less, though.
Sarah told me that when she woke up in an Italian hospital after the crash, she had severe head trauma. She had amnesia, couldn’t speak, and had no idea who I was or that Lily even existed. The hospital ended up contacting Marcus because his name was listed on some business documents for our company’s expansion in Italy. Marcus flew out, saw she was alive, and intentionally kept me in the dark while I was busy burying an empty coffin back home.
I asked her when her memory actually came back. She said it took a few months, and by September, about six months after the crash, she bought a plane ticket to come home. But then she saw news coverage of the memorial, with a picture of me holding a sleeping Lily next to the coffin. She claimed that seeing that made her decide coming back would just destroy whatever stability I was trying to build for our daughter.
So she kept putting it off. At first it was because she could barely move, then she was embarrassed about how she sounded when she talked, then she felt self-conscious about her burn scars. Every single day she waited just made it harder to come back, until “I’ll do it tomorrow” turned into three whole years.
Then Marcus chimed in with his side of the story. He claimed he actually tried to get her to go home at first, even buying her train tickets that she refused to use. He told me his wife died of cancer years ago, so he understood how bad fear and trauma can mess someone up.
Sarah looked at that little yellow duck again. She’d actually made it herself before Lily was born, leaving one of its wings a bit crooked on purpose. I pulled it out of my bag, but I didn’t hand it over, I held onto it. She admitted the real reason she stayed away was because she was terrified I’d hate her. So I looked her right in the eye and told her I did.
Marcus apologized for taking my company. He admitted he’d been a bitter, miserable guy after losing his wife, and then he just slipped off the terrace and left us alone.
Sarah and I sat there together until the sun started going down. We didn’t forgive each other, and we didn’t figure out what comes next. But she just kept asking me question after question about Lily, writing down every little detail on a paper napkin; how Lily calls the moon “the night balloon,” how much she hates socks with seams, and how she loves olives.
Before I walked off, Sarah told me she wanted to see Lily. I said, “Not right now,” looked her straight in the eye, and warned her that if she ever vanished on us again, I’d cut her out for good. Then I set that yellow duck on the table in front of her and told her Lily needed it back.
Today, Lily walked into the kitchen dragging her blanket. I was sitting at the table, staring at Sarah’s phone number written on a notepad, right next to the yellow duck, which she’d left behind for me, just like I asked.
Lily climbed up onto my lap and grabbed her toy. I still had zero clue what to do or how to fix the total mess Sarah dumped on me, but I knew I couldn’t just pretend she didn’t exist anymore.
I dialed her number, and she picked up on the second ring, holding her breath. Lily looked over at the phone and asked, “Who is it?” I didn’t freak out, and I didn’t make any big promises I couldn’t keep. I just looked down at that little yellow duck’s button eye and said, “It’s someone who knew Duckie first, sweetie.” Then I put it on speaker, set it on the table, and just let my daughter hear her mom’s voice.
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Bored Daddy
Love and Peace