As humans, we always imagine how our lives would be, and the sad reality is that things don’t always turn out as we expect. No matter how many plans we make, life has it’s way to remind us that there are things that are simply out of our control. But still, we manage, because humans are resilient beings. We don’t quit easily and do our best even when everything falls apart.
And I? I have always known my life would be a beautiful one. Well, I least I started realizing that when I met Ethan. Somehow, with him, everything felt right. He was my person, and I was his. We never had much, but at least, we had each other and our tiny apartment.
And then I learnt I was carrying twins. Honestly, we both knew raising two babies would be hard, but we never said it out loud.
Life wasn’t perfect, but it was peaceful. At least until everything fell apart.
Ethan worked as a mechanic and there were times when he’d spent long hours at the shop, but that evening, he simply didn’t return.
In the morning, I got a call from the police. Ethan was involved in a car crash. He lost his life, and at that point, I felt like I lost mine too.
The weeks that followed were a real struggle. I could barely function and had a hard time eating, sleeping, or talking to anyone. I hated the world, and I kept asking, “Why me?” I’ve never done anything bad to anyone. On the contrary, I’ve always been the hand lender, so why did I deserve to go through such pain and loss.
The stress affected my pregnancy, and the doctor advised me to rest. I needed daily support because I couldn’t help myself to move on. Living all by myself was no longer an option. But who should I have turned to?
My mother passed away when I was still just a teenager and my father remarried shortly after. With Ethan’s parents in Arizona, my dad was my last sanctuary. However, his place was no longer only his. His wife Veronica was in the picture, and she was the kind of woman who moved through life like it was a stage play and everybody else was simply background.
When I arrived at my dad’s place, he embraced me. His eyes could tell he was glad I was there. He touched my face with the back of his hand – the way I had touched his hand when I was still the little girl clinging to him during storms. “This is your home, sweetheart.”
For a brief moment after weeks of loneliness, I felt like things could be all right. But boy, I was wrong.
Veronica was a different story altogether. She’d smile at me every now and then and that was pretty much the interaction between the two of us. I don’t know why, but I felt like that smile was reserved for people who annoyed her and she didn’t really liked. Was I wrong about my gut feeling? Honestly, during those times of grief, I just hoped I was, because I didn’t have the strength to deal with her.
Whenever she was around, she would mumble something vague about timing before she left the place. I did my best to be invisible for her. I stayed in the guest room and tried not to get out unless I really needed something. Although I needed to rest, I cleaned after myself, and thanked her profoundly for every meal she prepared for me. But despite my efforts, I could feel I bothered her because of something, and although she never really said anything, her gestures were tying to send a message that I wasn’t welcome there.
Dad, however, loved me around. He would sit beside my bed and massage my swollen feet, tell stories of when I was a baby, and tease me. I felt secure with him by my side, and for a short time, I dared, just dared, to think that everything was going to be just fine.
Then dad got sick.
It was sudden. One day he was reading next to me, and the following day he was gone. Just like that. Gone. No goodbye, no last words, just silence. I lost my father when I needed him the most.
Two days after the funeral, Veronica showed her true colors. I was still in pajamas, trying to get down a piece of toast, when she entered the kitchen. She was so dressed up I though she was getting ready for a wedding.
She did not ask how I was or offered any consolation or condolences.
“You should start packing,” she said, like she was reporting the weather instead of condemning me to the streets.
I was taken aback. “What?” I asked.
“You have 36 hours,” Veronica said, like it was no big deal, like she was pouring herself a glass of mid-morning wine. “This place is mine now. I don’t want you here. I don’t want your…bastards here.”
My stomach dropped. “Veronica, I’m due in two weeks. What am I supposed to do?”
“Motel? Shelter? Not my problem. You’re not squatting in my house. You’re not raising those babies in my house.”
I barely stood on my feet. “Dad would have never allowed this!”
She smiled as cruelly as she could. “Well, dad’s not here, is he?”
She then took her phone out and called someone named Mike. “Hey, Mike. Be quick, we have a problem.”
Who the hell was Mike?
Well, it didn’t take long before that Mike guy stormed into the house like he owned the place. It turned out he was Veronica’s boyfriend. Yes, she was seeing Mike while being married to my father.
I got scared and got into the guest room, but I could hear Veronica telling Mike to break the door, screaming how I didn’t belong there, that I was an intruder. Imagine, an intruder in my own father’s home.
Once alone, I called the police and told them how my stepmother wanted me out of the house and on the streets. I explained I was 38 weeks pregnant and frightened.
The police arrived quickly and stopped Mike from hurting me, but the reality was harsh. I couldn’t stay there, I had no job, no savings, and nowhere to go.
I packed what I could as quickly as possible. Despite being desperate, I didn’t think of my stuff, I just grabbed some of my dad’s most valuable belongings because I knew Veronica would get rid of them right there and then. I also took my suitcase, some of my clothes, my phone, and I left my dad’s place.
When I got to the shelter, I nearly fainted of exhaustion. I barely dragged my things, and if it wasn’t enough, my suitcase opened and everything fell off. With tears in my eyes, I started collecting the things when I spotted the envelope my dad gave me the month before, while the two of us stayed at the porch and had tea together. I recalled what he said when he gave me that envelope; to open it only after he was gone.
I hid it between my things afraid Veronica could see it and get mad at whatever my dad written. But then, in those moments of desperation, I found the strength to open that envelope, unaware that my life would change yet again. Inside were official documents with my name at the top.
It was a deed to the house and it said it was mine.
The papers were signed, notarized, filed, and irrevocable.
Dad had thought of everything. Even in death, he had cared for me. He had ensured that no matter how cruel Veronica might be to me, I would not suffer poverty, not when I was about to give life to his grandchildren.
I cried and laughed at the same time. “Thank you, Dad. Thank you for never letting go.”
The next morning, I walked into the house. Veronica was there, wearing her silk pajamas. She raised an eyebrow when I placed the deed right in front of her.
“What’s this?” she yelled at me.
“It’s mine,” I said. “This house is mine. My dad left it to me because he probably knew what kind of woman he was marrying.”
“T-This isn’t… you can’t… that’s not fair!”
“Oh, it’s fair,” I said, trying to stay calm. “You tried to throw me and Dad’s grandchildren into the street. But this house isn’t yours to ruin.”
“You think a piece of paper means you win?” Veronica snapped.
“Not just the paper,” I said quietly. “The officers outside agree.”
I didn’t feel sorry for Veronica, not even a bit. She was someone who cheated on my father and didn’t even wait a week after his funeral before she threw me out of the house.
The officers told my stepmother she only had 24 hours to vacate.
She turned to Mike, as though she was waiting him to save her. But he just took a look at the papers and said, “Well, this looks real to me,” and left the place. It was very obvious he was with Veronica only because he though she had a house and money.
I was through a lot during times when I only needed rest, and honestly, I feared for my babies, but luckily, two weeks later, I gave birth two two healthy girls.
Every night when I put them to sleep, I feel my father’s presence in the house he loved so much. When I think about it, my dad didn’t just leave me property, but also security and strength to always fight for what’s mine.