I was only seventeen when I met her. She was about twelve and had too serious a face for her age.
Tony Garfield and I had been in my backyard shooting hoops when she walked over and sat on the stoop to watch us play. I thought she was one of Tony's friends, because he was a little closer to her age. I started to ask him about her right then, but I was ahead by four points and thought such a distraction might make me lose my edge. Sometime during the game, she left.
After the game, I asked him who she was. He said he didn't know and thought I knew her. I told him I didn't, but she did look kind of familiar. He said it was probably just one of his adoring fans, and we laughed.
"Well man, I gotta go.", Tony said, "If I don't get the lawn cut by six, my old man is gonna have a field-day on me!"
"O.k", I said, "See you later!"
Tony walked off and I forgot all about the little girl, and started thinking about the date I had that night with Stacey. I was wondering just how many bases she would let me get to, and if she might be "The One".
I went in to take a shower, and slapped on some of my dad's cologne. I grabbed the keys from my mom, and left.
It was a good date, considering I had only had three prior, and we had a lot a fun. Stacey let me get further with her than I thought she would.(but not as far I hoped she would!) All in all, I couldn't complain.
The next day, Tony couldn't come over. He didn't get the lawn done in time. So, I was practicing my jump-shot by myself.
I turned around at some point, and saw that the little girl was back on the steps. I decided to walk over to see what she wanted. I noticed again that she looked familiar. Of course, in a small neighborhood like mine, you're bound to see every kid on the block sooner or later.
I was now right in front of her, and was about to ask her name, when she suddenly burst into tears! I, of course, was shocked, and stood there gaping, trying to decide what to do.
I decided to try and comfort her. Surprising myself, I sat beside her and put my arm around her shoulders. After all, teen-age boys aren't reknown for their compassion for little kids.
I asked, "What's wrong?", and her condition appeared to get worse. So, I thought I'd just give her a minute to calm down a little.
While I waited, I got my first good look at her. She was cute, with short brown hair and big but, tear-swollen, brown eyes. She bowed her head to wipe a tear off her cheek, and I noticed she had a birth-mark on her neck, just under her left ear. It was the perfect shape of a question-mark, and I thought, "How odd.."
When at last she did get herself together a little, I asked what was wrong once more.
She started to cry again, and I felt terrible for her. I know I had just met her, but I couldn't help it.
Then I did ask her name, and she started crying harder than ever. I was at a complete loss. What could be so awful that would make this little girl so upset?
She mumbled something, and I apologized for not hearing, and asked her to repeat what she said.
She turned to look at me, and I felt another wave of compassion for her. She just stared at me for a moment. Remembering my previous attemps to start a conversation, I let her.
Then with tears still on her face, she said, "Don't let her go!"
Surprised once again, I said nothing.
"Did you hear me?", she asked. "I said don't let her go!!"
"Let WHO go?", I thought. "Who is she talking about?? Could she have me confused with someone else? What is she talking about?"
I was about to ask one or all of these questions when she suddenly jumped up and started running away.
"Wait!!", I yelled.
"I have to go now!", she yelled back. "Just don't let her go!! Please!"
"Wait!!", I yelled again, but she wouldn't stop. I thought of giving chase, but I wondered what the neighbors would think if they saw me running after a little girl crying her head off. Besides, I thought it would only upset her more.
Like I said, I live in a small town, and I would see her again sooner or later.
So, feeling like I had just run a marathon, I went inside to shower.
Its been twelve years since that day, and I still live in the same small town. Things are still pretty much the same around here. I bought a house close to my old neighborhood, and now Tony Garfield's kid mows my lawn.
Stacey did in fact turn out to be "The One". We continued to date, got engaged, and got married.
About a year and a half ago, we decided to have a kid of our own, and seven months ago, we got pregnant.
Things couldn't have been better.
Then the trouble started.
You see, I have a good job, and I work hard to get ahead. Well, a few weeks ago, my boss came to my office and offered me a once-in-a-lifetime chance; a huge promotion that was supposed to go to someone else. The guy had accepted an offer from another company instead, and the position need filling immiediately. It did, however, require moving to another state. I was so excited that I took the job on the spot, without talking to my wife about it.
She was totally against it. She said she didn't want to move. Of course she was also angry that I accepted the position without talking to her. I tried to explain how badly I wanted this, how hard I had worked for it, but it didn't help.
Debates soon turned to arguments, then to insults. I started sleeping on the couch.
Then she told me I could refute the promotion, or she was going to her sister's in Boston.
Well, I certainly wasn't going to give in to a threat, and when I wouldn't budge, she left.
I called her last night to tell her I would give up the job, and that I wanted to work things out. She said o.k, and I agreed to meet her at the airport and bring her home.
So, I caved a little....she had my child inside her for Christ's sake!
This morning I got the call. It seems that a run-a-way truck had hit the cab she was taking to the airport. She was in a Boston hospital, and in critical condition.
I got on the next plane to Boston, and got to the hospital via my own cab.
A doctor told me that she had taken a turn for the worse, and was not expected to live. They were performing an emergency ceassarian section to try to save the baby.
Both died during the surgery.
After a long bout of uncontrollable weeping, I asked the doc if I could see my wife. He arranged it.
I stayed in the hospital morgue as long as they would let me. I tried to fight them off when I was told I had to leave.
Afterward, the doctor said he needed to see me in his office. I asked for a minute to re-group, and he said sure, and told me where it was so I could meet him.
When I walked in, he was writing on a large mohogany desk. I noticed that there were pictures of his family standing on it.
There was a matter that needed attending to. He needed a name, for the death certificate of my still-born child. I asked if I could see it. He showed me the way.
It was a little girl. She was beautiful. Perfect in every way, except for the birthmark on her neck, in the shape of a question-mark.
