shadows

the first beginning (1)

There are three beginnings to this story.

The first was that warm and dry morning. Evan Greene was at work. In a meeting with the directors and the team leaders discussing a product launch. His phone was in silent mode. And on its face on the table. He wanted no distractions other than emergencies. And so, when his phone buzzed, a frown showed on his face. He ignored the phone. The meeting continued uninterrupted.

But then, just seconds after the phone went quiet, it buzzed again. A continuous vibrato. The notification of a call. Evan’s frown was deeper. He would have preferred the meeting continue uninterrupted, just like before. But neither he nor anyone else in the conference room could remain blind, and deaf, to the phone.

“I’m sorry,” Evan apologised. And reached for the phone. Even in his hand, in the absolute silence, the phone’s vibrato was loud. Like loud enough to drown out the silence.

Evan saw the number on the screen. Felt his anger rise, alongside the displeasure. Knowing it all showed all too clearly on his face, he answered the call. He was thinking, this better be important, as he said hello. And then, he listened.

“Mr E.G?” A woman asked. “I’m sorry. This is the name your number was stored with in this phone.”

“Yes,” Evan said. He could guess easily enough who would save his number with that name. He had hoped to never hear from her. Clearly, he hadn’t hoped hard enough. “What is this about?”

“I’m calling from Mercy’s General. On 14th east. We got your number from Ms Emilia’s phone. She was in an accident. And in a critical condition when she arrived at the hospital. We had to perform emergency surgery. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news. We couldn’t save her. But we did save the baby. I apologise we couldn’t contact you earlier. I must ask, when can you come?”

This was too much. Emilia was pregnant? And she waist an accident? She was gone? And the baby was alive? His baby was alive?

He shook his head. This wasn’t the time for rumination. “I’ll be over immediately. A half hour at the most.” He ended the call. Slid his phone into his pocket, getting up onto his feet. And he was walking toward the door as he addressed the people in the room. “I’m sorry, everyone. It’s an emergency. Why don’t you continue without me. Sanders will give me the minutes. Let’s make it a successful launch.”

Nobody stopped him. Not after seeing the look on his face. There was no doubt in anyone’s head that this was anything other than an emergency. Evan looked spooked. And he was a man so stoic, they could count on one hand the number of times he showed his emotions on his face.

Evan rushed to the hospital, arriving in twenty five minutes. He was quickly shown to the nursery, where the baby was.

“It’s a boy,” the nurse told him. “Everything’s normal. He’s healthy.”

“Can I see him?” Evan asked.

“Of course,” the nurse said, with a smile. She showed him in. Took him to the baby. Even let him hold the baby in his arms.

He had held three babies before. He was a practiced hand. But he was no calmer than the previous times. The fourth child brought about a rush of emotions no less than the previous three. This was his son. As much as he disliked the fact that he had a son out of marriage, he couldn’t bring himself to hate this son of his.

As he returned the baby to the crib, he saw the label. And the name on it.

“Anton?” He asked.

“Yes,” the nurse replied. “That was the name his mother said when she was brought in. She was conscious until she told us his name.”

“Anton,” he repeated, nodding. “That’s a good name. Can I see her?”

He was strangely calm. The nurse was confused. But it wasn’t her job to question. Especially not about the suspicions she entertained in her head. She could gossip about them later, with the other nurses, out of earshot of the patients and their families. She nodded, and showed him to where Emilia was resting lifeless.

He asked to be alone with Emilia, for a minute. The nurse nodded as if in understanding. And left. And then, he stood staring at her. Emilia had been a pretty woman. Young. Dazed by his wealth and his opulence. She was greedy, as could be expected from an orphan who grew up poor. She willingly started the affair with him. She knew to manage her expectations. She didn’t trouble him. She didn’t ask for favours. She happily accepted whatever he gave her. And he was generous to her. She was only other woman he had been with, other than his wife. And when the affair ended, Emilia quietly went away. She didn’t make a peep. He didn’t expect to ever see her again. And if it did happen by some miraculous accident, this certainly wasn’t how he thought it would be.

He couldn’t understand. And even though he knew she wouldn’t answer, he couldn’t keep from asking. “What were you thinking? You were pregnant. With my child, I’m assuming. But you didn’t call. You didn’t let me know. What was it? Were you really planning on taking care of him by yourself? Was it really your plan to have nothing to do with me or the Greene family? Did you really think you would succeed at that?”

He didn’t know what he was thinking. But the minute of solitude he allowed himself was enough. He was on his phone as he walked back to the nursery.

First call to a doctor from the hospital. An old friend. Who was in a position of power that afforded him a favour. He wanted to be sure the baby was his. The doctor understood. He said he would rush the results. A few hours at most. Evan thanked the doctor.

While waiting, he made the second call. To his wife, Emma. She wasn’t happy. But at least she was understanding enough. Her fury was spent when she found out about the affair. She punished him. He accepted it all without complaint. And he had succeeded to earning her forgiveness. She couldn’t get angry at him again, for the same affair. If anything, the target of her fury should be the woman. But Emilia was dead. And that left only one possible target. The baby. Anton.

A day later, with the paternity test confirming that Anton was Evan’s, the couple brought the baby home. They didn’t have a choice. Evan wouldn’t agree, and Emma couldn’t bring herself to suggest it. Giving Anton up was out of question. Their home was the only choice. He might be Evan’s son, but Anton would never be a Greene. Emma wouldn’t allow for the smallest chance of it being overlooked, that Anton was an illegitimate son, that Anton wasn’t wanted. And Evan agreed solemnly. He would have nothing to do with Anton, he promised. Emma would care for Anton as she saw fit. And she wouldn’t be questioned by anyone, about anything relating to Anton. Only then would she open her home to the boy. The promise was made. And Anton’s fate was sealed.