14 : DREAM

© S A F I E

CHAPTER 14

GABRIEL

‘I miss—' I quickly erased the words, frowning down at my phone as I do not know what I shall tell Elle. Sighing in frustration, I tuck my phone inside my pocket and huffed.

I stared down at the files on my hand and sigh. I've been going through the different records of the company for the third time now since I couldn’t figure out what to tell Elle. It has been four months and I guess, she wil forgive me it I ever try to reach out to her.

Or is that too late now?

All I want is for her to be beside me, but I need to let her go, for now. I have to make sure that she is perfectly safe in Paris before I proceed with my plan. Even though it pains me that she is not with me, I have to do this because I want everything to work out with my plan.

I barely get a good night sleep for the past four months since I left for Italy. I've been staying at my childhood home near Verona as I check on the new business venture I'm starting up with the Franco's. Working always has a way of getting my mind off things; it makes me forget her but not completely. It's like she's a worm that is wriggling inside my brain every 60 seconds much to my distress.

It's really hard for me to keep my head now that I'm away from her. It's hard to control my irritation every time I see couples kissing at the park, trying to contain my guilt as I see children running around them.

Supposed that the child Elle has once carried is mine, I can't even be more thankful. I still can't believe that I can produce an heir and the fact that I have killed him or her–God, I don’t even care if it was a baby boy or girl– before he was born, crushed me. I'll never be a father after all because God above can't even trust me with my own child. Maybe he thought that I'm not worthy of being a father seeing as I am responsible with the death of my mother and also my cousin, Emma, including her unborn child.

Without paying much attention to the papers at my hand, I silently recalled past where the root of my guilt started from and how uncertainty and doubt replaced love.

I can remember my Mama preparing my blue pancakes as I got ready for my first day of school; her stomach round as she stands beside the stove, singing to me.

"My little Gabby goes down the stairs

Giving me a glare as his blue eyes flare

School starts early, and Mama will blare

Calling out, waking up, her little Gabriel

Pull him, Bathe him, changed him like a bear

But he'll still stand there, still giving me 'the glare'

With me still preparing his price from a dare

Blue pancake in a rush, as he sat there"

I remember laughing at her as she squawks like a bird, teasing me with her butt as she rubs it off to me. That morning was great and the pancakes too but I didn't expect how it would turn bad because of me.

I can remember how we chase each other: she, holding a spatula and I, my robot. Then all of a sudden she scared me from behind making me accidentally hit her back because I was surprised. My five-year-old mind panicked when my Ma suddenly collapsed. I can remember the way I asked her what's wrong and she instructed me to just call Papa. I thought she was kidding at first but tears keep flowing down her eyes as she looks at me, pleading. I can remember my struggle as I tried to push myself up so I can reach the telephone in the kitchen, how my mom cried in pain as she calls for my Papa, still holding tight at the spatula as the smell of burnt pancake fill my nose.

It all happened so fast and I can still remember it all.

The different questions 911 asked me, sirens blaring as we took the ambulance to the hospital; me playing with my favourite robots while we waited so long and how I saw my papa crying for the first time as he held unto the pink little bundle which is my sister.

I can even remember how stupid I am, asking my Pa why my Mama is inside that box; Why she was dressed in a white gown with her hair on the side as she continues to hold on her breath, eyes tightly closed. I can remember the guys lowering the box to the ground as the clouds continue to cry, dripping my coat as I held on my Papa's thigh.

I can remember how Pa punished me that moment when I told him about what had really happened; of me accidentally hitting my ma. That's the beginning of his wrath at me. He punished me with his belt and I cried for ma, but she never came to my rescue. Papa said it's my entire fault. Papa said I'm never gonna pay this price of losing my Mama.

And there I realise, I lose both of my parents because of me.

If I didn't hit my mama, if I just let her squawk like an annoying bird then there will be no need for nannies and butler being hired. No need for me being homeschooled and trained to become emotionless while my little sister grows with different nannies rather than our mama and papa on her side.

Years passed and I start to feel the weight of all of it. How it was my entire fault that my mother died. How my sister didn't even experience to be held by mama or hear her sweetest lullaby, all because of what I have done.

It's been rough for me, finishing grade school at home. I was forwarded to High School - the new kid that was ignored. So, I changed. I became the bully; I played with the girls' feelings and ignored their confessions. I met Elle and played pranks on her only to have one of it backfire - making me hate her for knowing my secret. Swearing that I will make her life hell.

Which, I think, I have successfully achieved in the span of a year living with her.

After graduating from Harvard with a business degree as my father requested, I started my training at the age of seventeen. A young hormonal adult that was denied of pleasure, angry and jealous of the world as I stand in the sidelines, watching young adults like me gallivanting about with their girlfriends.

It was only my sister that is forced to be my companion.

I and my sister were fine with the fact that our dad abandoned us from the moment she was born. He was absorbed by the company and nothing can change that.

I thought things are gonna be alright from then on. I found peace with my mother's death by devoting my life of taking care of my sister. Me and my sister are satisfied without our dad on our side as we take a vacation with our uncle at Seattle. It was all going great until that night, right before Christmas- when that storm came and my cousin, Emma, started to undergo labour. Even though the storm is so strong, I forced her to get in the car and offered to drive her off to the nearest hospital.

All the way there, she complains about how she can't make it and that she's already tired. Distracted by her cries, I didn't realise the truck that is making its way to us, colliding on her side of the car as we are hauled to the side.

Emma died a horrible death including her baby as it was on her side that the truck has collided with. A piece of metal has pierced my hip and damage my organ - also the reason why I cannot reproduce.

I've always been in this misery because of my faults. I brought all of these to myself and I can't just let someone like Elle, enter my life and carry this burden with me.

She's just to kind and innocent for me.

From the very first moment I met her, I know she won't ever belong to me. I was her total opposite - I'm cruel and cold. I'm not capable to give love, only hurting them. I'm just--

My thoughts are cut off when someone knocked on my door. I muttered a 'come in' and sighed as I stared at Joe.

"Sir, I have something that I need to tell you right at this moment," Joe said in a serious tone before pulling a paper from his jacket pocket.

"And what would it be?" I said, turning my attention at him.

He let out a deep breath before pulling his handkerchief from his pocket, dabbing it on his forehead as pearls of sweat began to form on the sides of it. "Sir, I--" He hesitated, turning at me with his bright blue eyes as he gulped. "Sir it's--"

"C'mon, spit it out, Joe. You know I am not the one to test with patience and I still need to finish all these..." I pointed at the papers on my hand and look back at him again as he shifts on his feet.

The way he acted almost made me laugh out loud. This is so unlikely for Joe. He is always composed and sure of himself. Never did I see him act so unsure and nervous in front of me and it's killing me to know the reason behind it.

"Joe--"

"It's Ms. Elleana, sir." He looks at me with his wide blue eyes. "She-she--" His mouth open and close like he was some kind of a fish that is pulled out of the water.

"I thought I made it clear to you and Ryan about not speaking of her unless it was of utmost importance- an emergency or the likes? Didn't I tell you to not mind her business, Joe?" I pinch the bridge of my nose as my voice got thick with emotions.

"But sir, it's important. You need to know that-"

"That what?" I stand as Joe cower, bowing his head down as I continue, "That she's still grieving about the death of our child? That she wanted to kill me because I'm responsible for it? Or maybe, she's already dating someone new?"

Joe continues to bow his head down as he holds the papers in his hands, crumpling them, "Tell me, Joe. Tell me why exactly are you interrupting my work of some information that I might have known before you even got here?"

"She's not dating anyone, sir and I am sure that you don't know what I'm about to tell you now!" I was amazed when Joe turned to me, his eyes hard, "You know that she won't do that to you. She's loyal to you...she loves you but you choose not to acknowledge that." His words blew me off but the pain that is clawing inside of me made me snap at him.

"Then how did she get pregnant, huh? If that's mine, why wouldn't she tell me sooner?" I sank back on my seat as I cover my eyes, trying so hard to control my emotions and let him see how hard I am hurting too. "Why can't she just tell me then, when everything is still alright?"

“Because you showed her how you hated to have a child. She's afraid of you, sir." He pointed out, his voice lowering as he stood beside me, "She doesn't know how you're going to take the news. She's afraid that you'll accuse her of cheating, just like what you are doing right now. She's afraid that you will harm your-"

"Stop," I stood from my seat and look at him in the eye. "I didn't pay you to stalk my wife nor did I hire you to defend her. I give you strict orders and you should follow me. I ask you to investigate Victoria’s whereabouts and the Doctor that looks like her. Do I make myself clear?"

His jaw locked tight as he bowed, but before he went out of the door, he muttered, "You'll ask to hear me out soon..."

I sigh. I can't believe that I just had a fight with my personal assistant with regards to my relationship with my wife. Joe had been there ever since I started High School. He served as my father figure and now this?

I guess my wife really made a great impact on my close friends and employees. She's just too kind and funny that you just want her to be with you always so you'll have a better day. I wonder what could've happened to us if I didn't act so bitter around her. If I just acted to be the best husband for her and pamper her.

But it's not me. I can't pretend to be someone she wanted.

I'd rather be truthful to her and make her cry than lie to make her smile. It hurts me when I see her hurting–When she chooses to just shut up when I scream at her; When she just stares at me like a lost dog every time we had a fight; When she just accept the words and not fight me.

I wonder if the instances are reversed.

If she had told me about her pregnancy and not keep it a secret and I have accepted her request and tried, instead of fighting with her, maybe then we will develop our bond together: me coming home every night as she stands beside the stove preparing my favourite dish, chicken Alfredo. After sharing dinner, we would wash the dishes together, chase each other up the stairs and tumble on the bed. Then I'll help her undress and we'll share the shower, lathering some of my body wash on her back as I wash her. I would love to have her smell like me.

After drying, we will lie down on the bed, side by side, then she'll ask for me to massage her sore feet for standing too long beside her easel. Then, I'll pull her closer, spooning her as I nuzzle her neck, falling asleep with her heavenly scent.

Another morning will sneak upon us and I'll wake, take a bath and go down the kitchen; descending happily as I feast with the sweet smell of French toast prepared with my favourite cup of coffee with her standing there beside the counter. Her stomach going round as months passed by; Me, hugging her from behind as we bet on whether the baby will be a girl or a boy.

I'd love to have both.

We'll go to her monthly appointments and I'll gladly serve her cravings; from Nutella and banana chips to hotdog and Reese peanut butter cups. She will then cry as we watch Nemo for the tenth time, telling me about how I shouldn't act like Nemo's father; that I shouldn't let my child feel alone. She will snuggle up on my chest and sat on my lap as she munches on her chips, with Choco licking her feet, hopeful for crumbs.

This routine will continue as we waited for the birth of our child only to find out that it is a girl and that she really is my princess.

I will forever make it up to them: Sacrificing my time at the office to transfer at home. Then the routine must continue as we watch our child grow; I'll learn to bathe her, watch her crawl, train her to stand and walk on her own as Choco played with her, then as a family we'll wait for her first word.

Maybe I'll tear up as I hear her calling me Papa or dada or maybe, daddy; smiling at me with her toothless gums. After a whole day of working, I'll watch Elleana lull her to sleep then we'll be off to the bed in exhaustion only to wake up again to one of her cries.

I'll offer myself to comfort her, carrying her on my arms as the moon shone from her window. She'll suck her fingers and fall back to her dreamland as I lay her back down on her cot and shut the door behind me.

Neola will surely facilitate my princess' first birthday, spoiling her with sweets on her special day.

Then the years will come and soon she will be running around the house with Choco trailing behind her as she acted like a pirate with Choco as a sidekick. She'll come barging inside my office, interrupting one of my video calls with the stockholders as she creams, "AYE! AYE! Captain". I will apologize to them and end the call, scolding my princess as we walk down the hall. She will scream at me though, and have one of her tantrums, telling me that I am the most boring pirate ever. She will tell her mom about it and won't talk to me and I'll have this sudden urge to spoil her.

I will be the one who will put her to bed that night and talk to her. Then we will sneak down to the kitchen to have her favourite chocolate cake and all problems are solved, not with a promise of a new remote control car, of course. She will be a little boyish but that amuses me.

She will reach five years old and soon enters the preschool. I and her mom will be dropping her off for her first day and she'll hug my thighs, not wanting to let go. But soon this will all change as she enjoys every waking moment at her school. Then she'll begin to tell her mom about her crush, about that little boy the same age as her, how he makes her act so girly and feels cute with her pigtails on.

Then Elle will laugh, saying something about our daughter is not a baby anymore and soon, I'll find myself lying back on our bed with Elle on my side, whispering to me about her being pregnant with our second child. A boy, I hope.

All of these possibilities ran inside my head continuously, repeating themselves again and again. I can't help myself but feel the guilt of being responsible for Elle's accident, causing her to lose our baby.

The baby who could've changed everything but now is gone.

After grabbing my suit jacket, I stand; turning off the light to my office. I made my way up to my childhood bedroom now refurnished. I take off my dress shirt and trousers and lay on my bed with only my boxers on.

I wish Doctor Jackson had the wrong diagnosis at me–that everything he reported is false and let someone prove to him that I am very capable to produce an heir.

I could've been a happy father. I could've been much warmer and not bitter. If she didn't lose the child, I'll be ecstatic even with doubt. I can work with the paternity test but never for a child again, the divorce papers are now being processed and are on her way. I am quite thankful for doing so, I couldn't afford to hurt her again. If she does sign the papers and tell me that she doesn’t want me anymore then I will let her be but I wanted to meet her again.

I shall tell her about my plan. Maybe she hasn’t read the letter I left her. I smiled wistfully and sigh.

Even if my desire is impossible, I just wish that the child is still there inside of her womb right now, protected by her delicate hands as she sleeps. And if that is true, I will return to them, love that baby and spoil him or her like what I had imagined. I will work for the better and give him or her proper home with loving parents.

With that I turn my night light on and drifted off to sleep, still dreaming about the instances.

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