Alone in the emptiness of his bungalow, Robert found himself lost in thought. The calendar, tossed in the bin earlier that day, peeked out, seducing his mind so that he might look at the date for the hundredth time that week. I'll get the carer to take the bins out for me when she's here. His legs, slowly deteriorating over the years, were swollen and covered in pus filled sores. Any time spent on his feet, was time spent in complete agony.
He looked about the room he was in. The memorial shelf he had started for Naomi was covered in thick dirt, his floor in dire need of a hoover's attention. His once white netted curtains had become tinged with yellow, a decades and a half's worth of stains on carpet and sofas alike. Boxes of junk piled high along the walls, closing in on the already small room. With but a small pathway remaining, his home was very quickly becoming a hazard to his health. It was nothing like what he had been used to.
Jules would visit a few times a week, taking with her whatever she had been able to convince him to part with. Though they had grown close over the years, Jules still refused to call Robert dad.
"I already have a dad. He's a good man, an amazing man." She had said a year after meeting Robert for the first time.
Robert had nodded, a slight pang in his chest. He would have loved nothing more than to hear someone call him dad again, but respected Jules' right to make such a decision for herself. Another man had raised her when Robert couldn't and for that, he owed her father a lifetime of thank you's.Glancing at the clock, Robert huffed. Is that it? Jules was due to see him around midday, she had something she wanted to ask him. Robert, hoping she might ask him to walk her down the aisle alongside the man she called dad, had woken at four in the morning and been unsettled ever since. Her fiancé was a nice enough man, a little odd for Robert's taste, but he truly cared for Jules and so Robert was happy.
"Hey Bobo, just me!"
Jules' voice bounced around the small home, harmonising with the sound of boxes and clutter shifting out of her path. She peered around the door frame, large smile on her face.
"I brought you something." she said in her usual sing-song manner.
Pulling an arm from behind her back, she held out a sleeve of photographs. Robert fumbled for his glasses, the grainy picture a blur without them. Ah, on my head again. Holding the photos out at arm's length, he squinted.
"Oh how beautiful Jules. They've grown a fair bit now haven't they?"
With a hand resting on her ever growing stomach, she smiled. She wasn't sure her body could stretch much further. She dreaded the regularly wake up calls to relieve herself if she did indeed get much larger. It was an obstacle course already. She and her fiancé - Ted- had decided when the two red lines had first beamed up at them, that they would keep the gender of their unborn child a surprise until they were born. It had been hard, both wanting to cave at times, but somehow they had managed almost eight months of living in mystery. But sometimes, life doesn't quite go to plan.
"So you know how Ted and I were going to keep the baby's gender a surprise? Weeeell... baby didn't really give us much of a choice. Have a close look at the last photo Bobo."
Robert squinted again, moving the photograph closer to his face so that it touched his nose. It's a....
"We wanted to call her MiMi. If that's okay with you of course!"
Tears welled in his eyes. MiMi. The name he alone had called Naomi. He had cried when Jules first suggested calling him Bobo, reminding him so much of her dear sister. The woman was trying to kill him off with the tears of joy he shed over her. MiMi. It was perfect.
"I would love that, and so would Naomi."
He wished he could stand, that he hadn't given up with himself after Wendy's sentencing. What he would give to stand and embrace his daughter, to be a real father. He watched as Jules clambered across discarded items until she made her way to the bin. Pulling the calendar out, she caught sight of the circled date. February 15th. The next day.
"Bobo, is this what I think it is?"
Robert nodded, a gruff breath leaving his lips. He knew where Jules stood on the subject, it was the only serious thing they had disagreed on in the time they had known one another.
"Are you still not going to go?"
"Nope, I still can't do it Jules." Robert attempted to snatch the calendar from Jules' hand but she was too quick and nimble, even for someone heavily pregnant.
"But why Bobo? If you go, Wendy is guaranteed to stay in prison. Don't you want that?"
Robert closed his eyes, pain throbbing through his chest as it always did when his stress levels became elevated.
"Of course I don't want her getting out. After what she did to Naomi, to you, I hope she never sees the light of day again. But I just can't stomach the thought of seeing her," he paused briefly, rubbing his eyes. "You need to remember Jules, I spent over thirty years with that woman. I spent fifteen of those years genuinely believing someone had taken Naomi. She put me through a hell of a lot and for what? Jealousy. When I look at her, I see everything she stole from me that I can never ever get back. I can never get my little girls back."
Jules sighed, kneeling next to Robert. They had both been so incredibly anxious, waiting to find out whether Wendy would be found not guilty by reason of insanity. They had prayed together, huddled in the halls of the courthouse, begging for justice to be served properly. When the verdict had come through, with only a day of deliberating from the jury, they had cheered loudly. She had been found guilty of first degree murder and sentenced to life in prison.
Now, with only fifteen years having passed, she was eligible for parole for the first time. There had been uproar over the weeks as her face plastered newspapers and the internet. No-one could understand how someone who had killed their own child in such a heartless way could ever walk among them once more.
"Look Bobo. I'll be going to the hearing. You don't have to do this alone. Don't let her win. I know she took Naomi from you and I know I will never understand what you've been through, but she is the one who will die in prison. Don't put yourself in one too. You need to stop punishing yourself."
Robert squeezed her hand, nodding slightly. She was right after all. He had been punishing himself. He had left Naomi with that woman. He had been the one working and never noticing any of the signs. His poor little girl had suffered and he had done nothing to stop it. The family who lived in the house Wendy had used to not only kill their daughter but hide the body for months on end, had left stating it was too much for them to handle. Robert had sneered. Too much for them! If only it was as easy as packing a bag and moving elsewhere for him. No matter where he went, where he lived, he carried those burdens with him.
"At least think about it okay? If not for yourself, for Naomi." she pressed a kiss to his cheek, before waddling to the armchair.
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Leaning on his cane, Robert hobbled out of the courthouse with Jules by his side. They embraced, tears falling onto his jacket. He had done it. He had faced her. She had changed over the years, looking fragile and vulnerable. He had worried the judge would sympathise with her. He'd cried out in relief when her parole had been denied. The judge had described her crime as being the worst they had ever heard of. The nightmare was over. For a while at least.
But Robert wouldn't let himself worry about a future parole meeting that might never happen. With Wendy's age, Jules had insisted it unlikely. No. He would live his life, break free from the prison he had created. He had so much left to live for. A daughter, a wedding. A granddaughter.
Wendy might have taken everything he had, but she could never take everything he was to gain. He was finally free.
YOU ARE READING
What Once I Was
Mystery / ThrillerTW mention of abuse and murder of a child When 5 year old Naomi disappeared from her bedroom, her parents were the picture of grief and loss as their faces were plastered across numerous media outlets. With no evidence, no body and limited resourc...