I cannot sleep at night. And that is when the trouble begins. My ghosts come to pay me a visit. They make me miserable. They mock me, harass me and leave me terrified. Sleep is like a displeased mistress. She comes, but only at dawn. She takes off just when I am enjoying her to the fullest. And then another day begins. I hate nights. ‘Cos I can’t sleep at nights.
Would my life have been any better if you would have been here, Mom? Would I have been able to sleep peacefully at nights with you by my bedside, Mom? Would you have read stories to me till I fell asleep, Mom? Would you have waited anxiously for me till I came home from school, Mom? Would things have been for the better with you around, Mom?
They say I was two when you left. Aunt Sue told me you were a kind soul who doted upon me. There was nothing of more importance to you than your family. You loved us. But then everyone have their own hates and lies. You left us, Mom. You didn’t think twice before going away. Just a note on the kitchen table. “John, I am going. You know where. Tell Andy that I love him very much. Take good care of him. Bye.” That’s it? A marriage of four years, a son of two. Aunt Sue still doesn’t believe that you eloped with “that man.” Dad was dejected and disconsolate that day, says Aunt Sue. He shut himself up in our home for a week. He saw nobody.
And finally when he did come out, he was a different man. He was like, nothing had ever happened. Aunt Sue and Uncle Ritchie were dazed at this transformation. He told them both that he would try to find a new job in a different city and so could they please take care of poor Andy? Aunt Sue and Uncle Ritchie agreed. Of course, Dad would be sending enough money for taking Andy’s care. And so Dad went away too. And so it was Aunt Sue, Uncle Ritchie, their three-year daughter, Jillian and me.
Dad used to visit us, maybe, once every six months or so. He would bring toys and gifts for me and Jillian. He did not stay with us; he preferred to stay at our old home. He used to stay for two, sometimes three days. He hardly met anyone. And then he used to come to us, say goodbye and leave. I never had a Dad. My Dad was just some kind of weirdo who came to see me every six months, hardly talk to me or even touch me, and then go away.
I loved Aunt Sue and Uncle Ritchie. Jillian was more than a sister; she was my best friend. I envied her. She had a loving mother and a doting father. I was their son too, but not quite. We both went to the same school. I know she hated her friends when they laughed at my “story.” But that was okay; I didn’t mind them. I was just getting used to it.
Uncle Ritchie died when I was fourteen. It was a gruesome accident. They had to search for seven hours until they could restore his body. Aunt Sue took it all bravely. She knew she couldn’t break down with two teenagers in her care. She was up and running after four days of mourning. But she could never be her old self. Her life was dented. It could never be repaired. She was a good parent but not a keen and observant one. Jillian started doing drugs. I had my own troubles. Aunt Sue couldn’t take this any more. She lost her sanity. She was moved to a sanatorium. All she could remember was me. She chatted away happily with me whenever I went to see her. She talked about you too, Mom. Her sister; who had gone wrong, horribly wrong. And then she used to lose it. She used to shudder violently and had to be held down by two nurses. I hated going to meet her. For her own good. I used to send her flowers. Daffodils. She loved daffodils.
I was seventeen. I had somehow convinced Jillian of her error. She had come clean after three weeks in a rehab. She promised she would do some good to her life. But life had other plans for her. She married a guy whom she loved. After two years of bliss, the guy left her. Jillian was depressed. She had given life a chance and life had derided her. She said goodbye to life after struggling for another year.
I was twenty one. Aunt Sue had wished to see me. The doctor at the sanatorium contacted me. I went to see her. She was waiting eagerly to meet me. As soon as she saw me, her face lit up. We chatted for almost an hour. And then she said, “Andy, yesterday Ritchie and Jillian had come to see me. Ritchie asked me to come with him. Jillian was looking so peaceful in that gorgeous white gown of hers. She was looking stunning. Did she get married Andy? I am tired Andrew. I need to be with my husband and daughter. Would you please let me go?” I couldn’t say a word. She was looking at me with eyes pleading. She had never mentioned Jillian all these years. She could not even remember anything about Uncle Ritchie and Jillian. I couldn’t believe anything she was saying. But all I said was yes. Her eyes brightened. She said, “Thank you, Andrew. You have been an angel. I love you.” I still cannot forget the look on her face. She placed her hand over mine, pressed it ever so gently, got up and walked away. I could only stare at her dumbly.
The next day in the morning, I got a call from the sanatorium that Aunt Sue had left the world in her sleep the previous night. We had a quite little funeral. I did not cry for her. I knew she was happy; wherever she might be. Dad came for the funeral. We drove home in utter silence. I hadn’t seen him in the last four years. He had married ten years back. His visits had become less frequent and more irregular after that. We reached home. He asked me to come with him. I declined. I wouldn’t stay with strangers. “Andy, there’s something I need to tell you. I am responsible for all this.” “What do you mean?” I had asked. “Your mother loved you. She went away. Because she could not endure it any longer. I wasn’t faithful to her. But she put a blind eye to it. For your sake. For the sake of our happy family. She did not elope with anybody, Andy. She just left us. What she did was completely justified. I am sorry Andy. I spoiled it all. Please forgive me if you can, son.” He left. Without another word. I sat there as if stunned by lightning. My father had ruined my life! But how could your running away be justified, Mom? What about me? I was a child of two years. How could you leave me?
I am thirty now. I survive with the knowledge that I have been living an unfair life for the past thirty years. I have no friends, Mom. I have no family. I am the owner of one of the world’s largest communication system companies. I have a palatial home with an army of forty five security guards and a hundred and fifty seven servants at my beck and call. I have a bedroom designed by the world’s best designers and a bed fit for a monarch. I have all the money in the world, Mom. And everyday, I fervently wish that it would all go away.
Yes, Mom. I wish that it would all go away. In return, can I get back the last twenty-eight years of my life? Is it too much that I’m asking for, Mom? Can we all just start life once more? Can we ask Dad to be considerate of your feelings and responsive to your love? Can we ask you to be a bit more tolerant? Can we ask Uncle Ritchie to be a bit more careful while driving? Can we ask Jillian to be a bit more patient? Can we ask Aunt Sue to be a bit more involved with her daughter’s life? And finally, Mom, can we ask the ghosts of my past to go away and not bother me anymore? I cannot sleep at night.
Lovingly yours,
Andy.
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