The Worst Hard Time

To support my wife, Natalie Strickland, in her work, I stayed behind in our first-floor apartment during the hurricane, caring for our son, Tyler, as he burned with a high fever. But as the director of the neighborhood committee, Natalie gave our family's last remaining life buoy to her childhood friend, Hayden Walker, on the tenth floor. When I confronted her about how unfair it was, she snapped at me over the phone. "Emerson, you're my husband. You should put the bigger picture first. Our family has to set an example. "Hayden's situation is different. He's raising his daughter alone, and she has asthma. Both professionally and personally, they have to be our priority." Once again, I let her convince me with her talk about the greater good. Then the floodwaters swallowed the first floor. Holding my barely breathing son in my arms, I frantically called the emergency command center. The dispatcher apologized before delivering the news, "Sir, Director Strickland listed Mr. Hayden Walker and his daughter in the first evacuation group. You and your son were assigned to the final group." I looked down at my son as the last traces of breath faded from his tiny body. My heart filled with despair. "System, I accept your offer to leave this world with my son." 'Natalie, Tyler and I will never need you to save us again.'

The news said a massive hurricane would make landfall in Maisonet Bay by six that evening. By four o'clock, coworkers were already packing up to leave. The subways and buses had stopped running. Anyone with a car offered to give the carless a ride home. When someone asked if I needed one, I smiled and turned them down. "Thanks, but I'm good. My girlfriend's picking me up." They laughed and teased me about how nice it must be to have someone. At five, the wind outside picked up. I called Melanie Hayman, but she didn't answer. Our last messages were from an hour ago, when she'd said she was "almost there." I figured traffic must be bad and left it at that. By five thirty, the rain was coming down in sheets. I was the only one left in the office. The bulb overhead flickered, then went out with a pop. I dialed Melanie's number again in the dark. This time someone picked up, but it wasn't her voice. "Ryan?" I froze. "Where's Melanie?" "Mel's driving. She can't really talk right now."

When I was at my absolute poorest, I got sucked into some kind of survival game. The challenge was to survive 7 days on just 50 dollars, and the winner would walk away with a million dollars. As someone who might as well be certified as a professional at being broke, I knew exactly how to survive on next to nothing. That prize money had my name written all over it.

My dad is a fan of tough love parenting. When I was a kid, there was a time when I obtained full marks on two subjects. But he told me, "Your grades don't mean anything in life. If you were a true man, you'd leap down five floors without batting an eyelash." Some time later, I was awarded for my act of bravery. But Dad scoffed in my face. "Not even a hair is harmed on your head. Why should you be awarded anyway?" I thought Dad wanted me to go through more training in life. On Christmas Eve, he ditched me on a snowy mountain under the guise of wanting me to go through more training. He didn't give me a tent or a lighter. Later on, Dad even brags about his parenting method to his relatives and friends. "A real man should survive and thrive in a desperate situation! I told Julian that he can forget about being my son if he can't even make his way back to the summit!" But the red dot on the GPS tracker installed in his phone hasn't moved for the past three hours. The truth is, I've already frozen to death in the mountains. Trapped in my fist is a crumpled, torn scrap of paper. Meanwhile, my soul is currently floating above the dining table while watching Dad brag about his tough love parenting.

Everyone told me how lucky I was. I was nothing special, yet somehow, I'd married Julian Ashford, the campus heartthrob who went on to become a once-in-a-generation surgical talent. My best friend, Nora Hayes, had always been the prettiest girl in school. Julian and I had been married for seven years, and everyone thought he adored me. At our wedding, he had even announced in front of all our guests that he would grant Nora one wish. It bothered me a little, but Julian simply cupped my face and looked at me with such sincerity that all my doubts disappeared. "Lena, I love you so much that everyone you care about matters to me too. Besides, Nora's a single mom raising a kid on her own. It's not easy for her." I cried that day, convinced I'd married the best man in the world. Seven years later, at 28 weeks pregnant, I was on my way to another prenatal appointment when I finally saw the truth for myself. "You're such a good boy, Charlie. You know, you were the wish Mommy asked Daddy for. Even when your little sister arrives, Mommy and Daddy will still love you just as much." Julian ruffled Charlie's hair affectionately, his other arm wrapped protectively around Nora. My fingers tightened around my phone until they hurt. I felt as if all the blood in my body had suddenly turned cold. On the screen was a message Julian had sent me only ten minutes earlier. "Hey babe, got called into emergency surgery. I'll definitely come with you next time." Next time. It was always next time. I was already seven months pregnant, and he hadn't attended a single appointment with me, even though his department was only one wing away. I stared at the three of them, looking every bit like a perfect little family. Julian, there won't be a next time.

It was the day before SAT. I made a video for my time capsule. If all went well, I'd be watching the video 10 years later, and all did go well. A bit too well, really. The moment I opened the video call app, I was connected to the future me. The one living a decade in the future. "Did I get into Harland U? Got a PhD? Is Johnny still my best friend? He has a very short temper. No one else can stand him. I bet you've gotten your PhD and married Zoe." The future was a bright, hopeful place in my mind. Unfortunately, the future me flew into a rage the moment Zoe's mouth left my tongue. "That bitch is giving you pens filled with vanishing ink so Johnny gets to be the state's top scorer instead of you! You're not getting into Harland! You're forced to repeat the year! "That bitch is going to act sorry and down and promise to get into an LDR with you only to go steady with Johnny right away! The whole campus knows about them! They're the perfect couple! "You're an idiot, Seamus! Your girl's going to cheat on you, and you'll thank the guy who railed her for fucking taking care of her!"