A Promise From My Heart

43.

I presented what I had thought was the perfect business plan with little to no confidence or zeal about the ideas I had written down. The research that led to the creation of a business plan was poorly done yet I had not given the result many thoughts. My monotone drawl overwhelmed the atmosphere of the living room. From time to time, I would break off, lost and not knowing what to say next or understanding what I had next.

Dad just watched me, the heaviness of his stare made me uncomfortable and many times, I realised how much I have messed up. His brows with a little hint of silver raised with questions initiated multi-layered pleats on his forehead. Do I even want to do this? I have to do this for me, Amy and my children.

"You do not appear enthusiastic about these ideas you have pitched to me," Dad spoke. My brows strained. "You are not passionate about starting a business."

"Why would you say that, dad?" I could not help but ask.

"You know you are not." The certainty in his voice baffled me. How can he say that? Why would he say that? "Where's the zeal? Where's the passion?" He questioned.

Encouraging the corners of my mouth to tilt up, I said, "I have them. I am passionate and zealous about doing this."

"Are you?" His question tottered my mind to discontinue running. Every possible answer eloped from my head. My father adjusted in his seat, took a bit from the red meat of watermelon he held in hand. "These ideas do not excite you. Your business plan has a lot of faults. I would list them and they would be countless at a point." Just perfect! My father who should be encouraging me is dissing me. The little bits of assertion left in me diminished. "Why are you doing this, son?"

There was the way he said son that had warmth in it. It made me realise I was speaking to my father, not some stranger. I could be sincere with him and he might just understand.

"For an extra source of income. With babies on the way, we would need more money and I do not want to deprive Amy and my children of anything financially."

"Babies?"

"We are having twins... again dad." Spelling that out just threw a reality check on my face. Twins! Two babies at the same time! Ya Allah, help me.

"Alhamdulillah. That's good news."

"And it scares the hell out of me." I confessed. The anxieties I have forced at the back of my mind sprung to the surface. "What if I cannot live up to my expectations? Can I cater for them? Can I be there for them when they need me the most? How well can I support them? There's more to fatherhood than being there financially. You made me realise that. You did a good job with us dad but I know parenting is hard. I want to do this but I want to do it right."

My father straightened in his seat, then bent forward to the little stool that had a plate of watermelon on it and dropped the half bitten fruit in it. He picked the napkin next to the plate and dabbed the juice that had run down his hand.

"I understand how you feel." He began, touching the napkin lightly to his lips. "I understand every bit of it. How you feel at the moment is normal, son. It was how I felt when your mother told me she was pregnant with you then Noor then the twins. I doubted if I could do it. If I won't mess up in the process. But, how about you leave everything to Allah as you have always done?"

"I have but...."

"Do you trust Him?"

"Yes."

"Then let it be. Put your mind at rest."

"I want to. But I cannot just sit back and do nothing. I have to do something, put effort and pray he crowns it all, guide me and show me the way."