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there’s so much more at stake.
My gaze trails to the window, the winter sunlight
struggling through the stubborn clouds. Across the street,
children squeal and giggle as they chase each other
merrily round colorful payground. My eyes follow little
girl as she races from the climbing-frame to the swings,
her daddy pushing her higher and higher as she shrieks in
delight, until suddenly she jumps off, sprinting toward the
seesaw, the slide, her next adventure. The swing jangles
wildly in her wake, careering forward and backward,
joyful still, despite her absence.
On the swing next to it, someone else sways
listlessly, barely moving at all.
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Holly
kick at the leaves as swing slowly by, watching as
they scuffle and scatter, living for moment in the breeze,
before dropping, lifeless, into the mud.
One leaf still clings to its branch, high above me. It
quivers, fluttering and flickering as the wind tugs at it
again and again—and yet still it stubbornly holds on,
glistening in the sunlight.
In all likelihood it too will eventually fall and
become mucky, trampled into the sodden ground. But
maybe
merciful breeze will spare it—carry it safely to
alight on rooftop or nest. Maybe, somehow, it will cling
to its branch forever. But for now it glimmers, golden in
the winter sunshine. Untouched. Its destiny undecided.
watch the children race around me, laughing and
shrieking, their chubby cheeks rosy with adventure, their
eyes sparkling with possibilities, and close my eyes, the
hot tears spilling down my cheeks. hug my coat tighter,
as if can protect my child with this cocoon, keeping out
the cold and the danger, holding on to my burning heart,
my aching hope.
“Holly!” The word whispers on the wind and tickles
my ear. “Holly!”
open my eyes.
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“Holly!” the voice calls, louder now. “Holly!”
Dad? look up slowly, my face numb with tears.
“Oh, Holly!” Dad runs across the grass toward me.
“Holly, thank God!”
“Daddy?” My voice cracks as he drops to his knees
in front of me, engulfing me in his arms.
“Dad …,” cry, drowning in his embrace, unable to
believe he’s real. “Dad, what are you doing here?”
He pulls back and cups my face in his hands, his
eyes deep green overflowing pools. “You’re here,” he says
simply, stroking my hair from my face, kissing away my
tears, which are mingling with his own. “You’re here,
Holly-berry. Where else would be?”
crumple into his arms, the pain suddenly
overwhelming.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he soothes, holding me tight. “I
can’t imagine what you’ve gone through—what you’ve
been going through all this time—all on your own …” He
trails off, his eyes bright. “But I’m here now. It’s all right.”
“It’s not all right!” cry miserably, tears flooding my
words. “Daddy, I’m pregnant—the baby—”
“Shhh.” He pulls me close, holding me together as
fall apart. “It’ll be okay,
promise—whatever happens,
whatever you decide.”
My insides twist painfully.
Whatever decide …
“I’m here for you,” he says gently. “I’ll come into the
clinic with you, hold your hand—if that’s still what you
want?”
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stare up at him, sobs clogging my throat, tears
filling my eyes. want to be strong, to be brave enough to
face the truth— the consequences, but …
clutch my
stomach desperately. But can’t
Dad strokes tear from my cheek.
“If not—if you’ve changed your mind and you don’t
want to know yet—that’s okay too,” he promises, kissing
my forehead. “It’s not too late.”
screw my eyes shut, helpless to stop the tears as
they stream like acid down my cheeks, my head throbbing
mercilessly, my heart on fire.
“It’s your child, Holly,” he says gently, his voice like
cool water. “Your choice. I’ll support you either way, you
know that.” He strokes his thumb gently along my jawline
and bite my lip. “You’re my little girl.”
look up at him, his face shining with love. Words
stick in my throat and hold on tighter, his arms warm
and strong around me.
My dad
think, melting into him. No matter what
the truth is—the blood, the DNA. He always has been.
Even though he knew he might not be. But didn’t know,
and was happy. bury my head deeper into his jacket,
into the familiar smell I’ve known since was little girl.
Sometimes it’s not the lies that hurt you realize. It’s the truth
close my eyes. “Daddy …,”
whisper, my skull
throbbing. “I want my baby.”
“Okay,” he sighs, engulfing me in his warmth. “Oh,
sweetheart, that’s okay.” He folds himself around me,
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shielding me from the cold winter wind, the world, the
truth.
“You’ve made lot of tough decisions lately, huh?”
He glances over at the parking lot, where Rosie is standing
with Sarah, then back at me, his eyes full. “I’m so proud of
you, Holly-berry,” he whispers, his voice cracking as he
holds me tighter than ever. “You’re go
mum.”
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Rosie
The sun finally breaks through the clouds as we
round the corner away from the clinic.
watch it
disappear in the rearview mirror, behind the trees, the
lampposts, the houses; then sink back in my seat, my
eyes closed, glad to leave it behind for the very last time.
So this is how it ends, think, glancing at Jack, his
arm around Holly in the backseat. My dad. smile. found
him, and he’s terrific. We’re reunited.
family. And
now
now we’re all going home.
My gaze falls on Holly, her eyes closed, exhausted,
the opposite side of my coin in so many ways. She made
the choice
couldn’t. She decided not to know. She’d
rather live life hoping for the best than risk discovering
dark cloud looming over her future. Maybe she’ll be lucky,
maybe she’ll be clear, maybe she’ll never develop
symptoms. Even if she does, it won’t be for many years.
Perhaps there’ll even be cure by then. Maybe she’ll live
long and healthy life with her child and I’ll get hit by bus
next week. Who knows?
glance at Sarah in the driver’s seat, her face aged
decade since saw her last, haunted by the repercussions
of one split-second decision she made eighteen years
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ago
Her eyes meet Jack’s in the rearview mirror again.
This time he smiles peacefully as he strokes Holly’s hair.
The past has passed, after all. It’s time for us all to
move on, look to the future.
Time to say goodbye.
sigh as climb out of the car and look up at Nana’s
house. The front door opens and freeze as recognize the
familiar face.
Andy.
“Hey, stranger,” he says, walking down the drive
toward me. “Fancy seeing you here.”
beam at him, my heart racing. What’s he doing
here? He should be on the other side of the world—
shouldn’t he?
He glances at the car.
“I came to give Holly lift to …” He hesitates. “Has
she—is she …?”
“No.” shake my head. “She chose not to know.”
He looks relieved.
“But what are you—how did you—aren’t you meant
to be in
Cambodia or something?” stammer.