Keren Hook

“ Love can keep us standing, even when we feel so broken and lost. ”

***

~ Austin ~

I arrived in Keren’s room after taking a shower and changing into one of the couple pajamas, which still reminds me so much of Joanna.

I walked in gently to avoid waking her up, though I know she’ll be up soon. 

I knelt beside her crib, which was now bigger than it previously was… though the child inside didn’t look much different from the way she was, two years ago. I stared at the sleeping beauty who lay like a princess in the crib, as warm tears began to fall. She looked so much like Joanna… and despite all these months… It still hurts. 

A drop of tear fell on her cheeks, and she opened her eyes and smiled… oh, how I dream of the day she’ll finally open her mouth and call me “Daddy,” or am I not man enough for her to actually do?

Is that why she still hadn’t said a word, despite all the efforts of the speech therapists and children psychologist? 

Had she really lost her speech the day Joana died, just like the psychologist assumed she had? 

Will I never hear my daughter say a word in this lifetime? Or am I simply being pessimistic?

  I wiped out my tears as I brought my gaze back to her. She was raising her hands now, a signal for me to swoop her into my arms, as I have always done since she was born. And I didn’t hesitate. 

  I laid her on a princess-sized mattress and kissed her cheeks… and she used her palms to rub my beard. Though I preferred my face to be smooth and flawless, I kept a low beard due to how much Keren loved rubbing it. 

I could still vividly recall how sad she looked the first time I had a clean-shaven, and ever since then… I’d done my best to always make sure I had some beards on.

She was laughing now, as I peppered kisses on her face. Her laughter was almost silent… unlike most kids I knew, and it broke my heart every single time. 

Keren was so small and fragile, in comparison to her biological age, that I almost resisted the first time Nana had suggested that she be enrolled in kindergarten. Like what if she was bullied by her peers, due to her inability to say a word?

What if she got pushed due to her small stature and still-developing legs? 

But Nana had suggested I let her live her life, like a normal child. Reluctantly, I had enrolled her in one of the best private preschools in the estate, and I haven’t regretted my decision so far. 

The teachers there were trained to understand each child’s unique needs, so Keren had never been made to feel like she didn’t belong. It showed in how excited she was to go to school and how brightly she grinned whenever I dropped her off with her teachers.

But it’s been a year already, and nothing has changed. Shouldn’t she be more active now? Like other kids? 

Shouldn’t she be interested in picking up a musical instrument like her mom had when she was her age?

Shouldn’t she be jumping around and reciting nursery rhymes excitedly? Like most of her mates were?

“Daddy.” I heard Joan’s voice in my head, and the tears fell again as I recalled the very first time I had held her in my arms. Joana had called me Daddy too that day. Who would have guessed that it would still be the only acknowledgment of fatherhood that I would have gotten till now?

“Keren loves you, you know.” I shut my eyes as I let the words flood through me. I knew that very well… The way she ran into my arms whenever I arrived from work, and how she smiled at me whenever I read her bedtime stories, just as I am about to do now. She loved me, and I have never doubted that. But I still yearned to hear the words from her. To hear her call me, Dad. To say, “I love you, Dad,” whenever I woke her up in the morning. I yearned for that so much that it hurts, sometimes.

But I had to keep going, just like I have since the day Joanna was declared dead, even if it hurts. Because the only way out is forward, even if it hurts. 

“Wanna hear me read your bedtime story?” I smiled when she nodded.

I stood up and walked towards the mini shelf in her room, which housed several stories from best-selling childhood authors. 

Author TED is, so far, my favorite children’s book author. She doesn’t just tell realistic stories; she weaves tales of courage, faith, hope, and love in a way that moves not only the child being read to but also the parent reading aloud.

I picked up The Dancing Princess.

And brought the ottoman closer to the bed to sit on. Whilst I wrapped my arms around her and slowly began reading.

The words, reaching not only me but her too, in a way that’s beautiful and profound.

“Once upon a time, there was a five-year-old girl with a very long ponytail named Clarissa Grey. 

  Clarissa loved dancing, even when it meant muscle cramps several hours after. Due to the condition, she had called the dancer’s curse. 

One day, while Clarissa was dealing with her intense muscle cramps, her father asked her. “Clarissa, honey, why do you insist on dancing when it leads you into bearing pain hours and hours later?”

I paused to stare at Keren, who looked as engrossed in the story as I was. I wished she could read books by herself to get lost in worlds of adventure and expand her imagination. But due to her condition, which the doctors identified as dyslexia, it wasn’t that easy. Though I sometimes wondered if it was more emotional than cognitive, I knew her mind worked in ways I could only begin to understand.

“Clarissa replied gently, ‘Dancing makes me feel alive, unstoppable and happy. So why should I give that up just because of a little pain?’”

Her Dad smiled, pecking her on the forehead. 

“Besides, the pain fades eventually, doesn’t it? But the joy I felt doing what I love remains… and I will never let anything take that.” Clarissa added, her Dad nodded, feeling as proud as ever of his little girl. 

I paused to stare back at Keren, who now had her eyes closed… but tears streamed from her eyes, showing how touched she’d been by the story. 

 So what if her reading skills weren’t there yet? Her mind still worked perfectly, and honestly, that was all that truly mattered at this point.

  I glanced at the clock in her room as it struck 10 p.m. Reaching for a quill-shaped bookmark on the bedside table, I slipped it between the pages of the book and set it down again, making sure it would be easy for her to reach if she wanted to flip through the animated pictures she seemed to love so much.

Carefully, I gathered her in my arms and walked towards her crib and laid her in it. Though she’d outgrown the crib, she still loved it there, and well, her happiness is all that matters to me. 

  I covered her small body with a duvet. “Goodnight, little one.” I pecked her cheeks before standing up and finally turning off the lights. 

  I closed the door gently and headed to my room. 

There I met a new case waiting on my laptop, but before I could glance through it. 

I received an email from Jordan.

“Boss, I just received news that a young woman will be coming in tomorrow to see you for an appointment. She said her name is Alyssa Stewart.”

I closed my eyes, recalling the chance encounter earlier. 

“Okay,” I replied, before shutting my laptop and finally heading to the bed, which still haunted me every night for the last two years. 

“One day, done. Another waiting.”I whispered as exhaustion took over and my eyelids finally dropped.

…

A/N: So emotional. What do you guys think of the chapter?