Heartbroken

Chapter 28: Mr. Chans

 His eyes watered as he held the child in his arms, her cries going unanswered as he could only stare at his newborn daughter. A daughter. He never imagined that it would be a girl.

"Annalisa," he whispered her name, awed.

Her tiny hands clenched into small fists, her face scrunched into the expression of an unsatisfied baby, her toothless mouth open and screaming. The man's mouth quirked to the side, and as he smiled, the warm feeling in his heart grew. His child did not appreciate that. He reluctantly gave her back to the nurse and watched as his daughter was whisked away from his caring arms.

He took that time to comfort his fiance, who laid exhausted in the hospital bed, her face still red and out of breath, but smiling. He reached for her hand and kissed it, the smile not only reaching his eyes, but also his heart, for he had such a giddy feeling that he felt would never wear off.

The nurse returned the baby, and as the mother held her in her arms and cooed, the man took a picture. To remember.

The man awoke to his daughter's forlorn cries. An alarm clock would have been more welcome. He threw the covers off and lumbered out of bed, not wanting to wake up his wife, though the ruckus he made getting to the babies room was louder than the actual baby. The crying stopped.

He rubbed his eyes and then his ears, and as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he found his daughter in his wife's arms, the rocking chair creaking softly as she rocked back and forth, back and forth. She hummed quietly and loved quietly, a smile on her face, a child in her arms, and hope in her heart. The man took a mental picture. To remember.

"Annalisa!" the voice of an angry mother.

Silence.

The sound of a shamed child.

The man's wife stood squarely in front of an elegant blue vase that had been smashed against the floor. Their butler was sweeping up the carnage, but the child refused to show herself. The mother looked and could not find, and their daughter hid and was not found until the man looked.

She cowered under the man's desk, the wood swallowing her whole. She shook as she cried, her brown hair covering her face in unruly waves. The father sat next to her on the floor. She crawled into his arms and fell asleep soon after. The man memorized her light weight and warmth as she dozed in his arms. To remember.

The father looked out the window, watching as his wife threw a Frisbee to their only girl. She was nine now, and was growing up to look exactly like her mother. The man was proud.

She skipped and twirled as she ran to catch the flying object, but it was too fast and she too slow, and it hit her on the head. The man tensed as the wife ran to the child, comforting her through the tears, and soon they were rolling with laughter on the soft grass of the courtyard below. The man smiled, and remembered.

The butler delivered the newspaper to the man, along with his morning coffee. The chair where his wife always sat was empty, never to be sat in again. The butler bowed and apologized with a shaky voice, leaving quickly. Confused, the man glanced at the newspaper placed on his desk.

"Two deaths in two months:" the title read in big dark letters. "The daughter of Michael Chans was found dead yesterday after –"

The man couldn't read anymore. He couldn't think or talk. He couldn't feel the tears as they ran their way down his cheeks, staining the paper in his still hand. He picked up a bottle and drank, to forget.

I stood at the end of Mercy's bed alone, letting her sleep. Her chest fell and rose slowly, her hands resting on her stomach. She looked so much like Annalisa, and I felt my heart squeeze painfully. When I had lost her, I had lost a part of myself, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't find it again. It took me years to come back, and even now I'm not here. I lost myself when my daughter died, but I broke myself when my wife left me. She was never predictable, but what happened that day was beyond my imagination. Forever lost, forever gone, forever forgotten: this heartbroken song.

The heart monitor beeped, and my eyes that I didn't know had closed, opened. Mercy was staring back at me. The corner of her mouth lifted, and though it looked hard to smile, her eyes were grinning. I smiled.

"How do you feel?"

"Terrible,"

"You sound like your sister,"

She grinned at me again. "I look like her too,"

You look like my daughter. "You do,"

"Do you want to watch a show with me?"

I sat down in the chair next to the bed, and it was hard for me not to notice the tubes weaving in and out of her body.

I was never able to see Annalisa's body. But somehow seeing Mercy in the hospital made me remember everything. Every knife that pierced my heart, every tear that fell from my eyes, every feeling of distress and hopelessness. The hands on my back that were supposed to help but never did. The sidelong glances that made me feel inferior. The times where I barricaded myself away and everyone thought that I was just as dead as the rest of my family. People thought things; but I didn't. So it was surprising when I ended up in a good place. I became famous after a part time modeling job in college, but continued on and became a man of business. Though I earned money, I never earned back the happiness that I once had. I didn't deserve it.

I looked back to the television, confused at what we were watching. I never knew that kids would be entertained by a blue cartoon dog, a man wearing a striped green shirt, and salt and pepper shakers. As we continued watching, I felt Mercy's hand slip into mine. I glanced over, but she was already asleep.

I woke to the prolonged beeping of the heart monitor. My head shot up from the bed, and my arm tingled as the blood reentered. I immediately turned to look at Mercy, her face peaceful but unmoving. I squeezed her hand: it felt cold and stiff. Panic rose in my throat, my heart beating faster until it pounded its way into my head. This was not happening. Scared to look but more afraid to not know, I glanced at her again. Her stomach was still. I stopped breathing. I stood and leaned over, pressing the nurse button on the side of the bed, smashing it until I couldn't hit it anymore. My heart had sunk as I placed my hand on her soft cheek, and I didn't feel the tear that ran down my own. I crushed her against my body as the tears fell.

"No, no, no, no. Not again."