Hard Redemption: A Second Chance Romantic Comedy

by Emily J. Wright

  But not when she lost her temper and became a ruthless vixen. I guess that trait ran in every woman of McCarran family.

  Mary-Louise thought that I had gone back to my old ways and pulled another job. Her caring and nurturing side was overpowered by her feisty and threatening side—which is a deadly fearsome combination for the one in the line of fire.

  As much I was desperately trying to gradually and slowly pull myself away from the sharp knife, she kept on leaning forward with the knife closer to my throat. After a long pause out of fright followed by gathering all my courage, I just nervously mumbled, “Yes. . . .”

  “Yes, what?”

  “That if I ever relapse into criminal activities, you will chop my dick off and feed it to me. Then you will make me vomit it and feed it to me again.”

  “Exactly! And you still got back to your old ways? Don’t you have any concern for your wife and daughter?”

  “I can explain everything . . . if you could just . . . slide the knife away to the other side.” I then cautiously held her hand and slowly led the knife away, and to my surprise without getting any resistance from her. I guess deep down she believed that I had done nothing wrong. “It’s not my hard earned money—hold on to your stabbing—it’s not dirty either. I recently came into some money from my estranged aunt Fish’s inheritance.”

  “Aunt Fish! Are you kidding me?”

  “It’s little hard to explain, but I swear on Casey’s life that it’s clean money.”

  Mary-Louise was then back to her normal self and put the knife back onto the dining table. “Well, your story is shit, but I know that you would never lie after swearing on Casey’s life. So I have no reason to suspect you, don’t I?”

  “Thanks for trusting me. We will surely get into more details on my inheritance some other day—I promise.”

  I was feeling really sleepy and took a big yawn. The yawn couldn’t have come at a better time. It gave me just the right opportunity to easily excuse myself from there.

  And I continued, “I don’t want to sound rude, but it’s getting late. Would you mind if we catch up tomorrow?”

  “You think I am forcing you to sit here and talk to me while I enjoy my sandwich?”

  “Fair enough,” I said and wasted no time to rush to the couch.

  Did I tell you yet that apart from occasional bad-mouthing, Mary-Louise could also be occasionally sarcastic? And do I really need to say whom Amber learned sarcasm from?

  But I didn’t mind anything, in case you are wondering. Everybody has quirks. I did—and I was proud of it. That’s what makes us humans—and interesting.

  As I was about to lie down on the couch, my eyes strayed to the wall clock. It was just a few minutes to midnight.

  I immediately rushed to the kitchen and on the way over asked Mary-Louise, “Quick question. Is there a vanilla ice-cream in the refrigerator?”

  Mary-Louise was just about to finish her sandwich with one last big bite and said, “Yeah, help yourself.”

  “It’s not for me, it’s for Amber,” I said and quickly ran to put one scoop of ice cream in a glass bowl.

  As I came out of the kitchen with the bowl of ice cream to impress Amber, Mary-Louise asked, “You know about this?”

  “Of course, Casey’s mother has a sweet tooth herself. She always wakes up mid-sleep around midnight and has to have one scoop of vanilla ice-cream before she can go back to sleep again.”

  “Yeah, she does that, doesn’t she? We usually meet at this very table for our midnight snack fiesta, but I haven’t seen her in a couple of days.”

  “You must have missed her. I know she will come. She has to come.”

  And I rushed and stood on the very first step of the staircase. I was acting like a teenager in love waiting for my goddess to grace me with her presence.

  Mary-Louise came towards the staircase and asked, “Are you are going to just stand here?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Even if she comes late or don’t come at all?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I would definitely like to see how it ends.”

  I didn’t have to wait for long. I soon felt a change in the way the air had begun to smell. And then I heard the thud of door closing followed by creaking of the wooden floor. My heart was pounding very fast. I knew in my heart that it was her; it couldn’t be anyone but Amber.

  As she came closer to the staircase and I saw her—yup, it was Amber—her lavender smell and angelic beauty had mesmerized me completely. How can someone smell and look so good at that time of night? She was yawning, rubbing her eyes, and scuffling through the floor—and I was just gazing at her in astonishment.

  But when I realized that she was about to put her foot down on the first step, I handed her the bowl of ice cream. “Your ice cream.”

  “Thank you.” She was still half-asleep and didn’t realize it was me. When she opened her eyes and found me before her eyes—she knew that I knew. “How . . . ?” She was startled and then looked at her mother for some answers.

  Mary-Louise wanted no part of it; she was just there to see how the situation turned out to be. And responded point-blank, “Why are you looking at me? He already knew.”

  Amber couldn’t ask me directly, but I could see her curiosity running wild just by one look into her eyes. She was standing almost motionless there with a bowl of ice cream in her hand—utterly astonished by my surprise and really thinking how I knew her secret.

  And I was just cherishing that moment—her look of wonder. I didn’t want to tease her any further and did the big reveal. “Because I remember.”

  It fueled her curiosity even more. I took a big yawn and while coming downstairs further said, “When we were together, you used to sneak into the kitchen every night to fend your mid-night cravings—probably thinking I was deep asleep. But little did you know that I used to sleep with one eye open then—a little occupational hazard you can say.”

  Amber followed me downstairs and stood next to her mother.

  I came towards the couch, fluffed up the pillow and lay down with a sheet over me. “I know your secret because I remember. I remember how you used to clutch your fist to put down your craving when you wanted to have more than one scoop. I remember how the wind coming from the window made your hair blow. I remember how you used to suck on the spoon. I remember everything. . . .”

  Chapter 7

  “Daddy . . . Daddy . . .”

  I heard Casey’s voice and briefly opened my eyes. I looked over and found Casey standing beside me with Kermit the Frog doll in her hand. I must be dreaming. And I closed my eyes again.

  But then I felt a pinch on my cheek. No—it was not a dream. Casey was actually there.

  I really didn’t know what happened. How did I even get on the couch? The last thing I remember was talking to Amber. I think I was so tired that I might have fallen asleep while talking to her.

  “What time is it?” I asked but my speech slurred and voice was barely audible. I looked at the wall clock; it was showing two o’ clock. “Is it afternoon or night?”

  “Two at night,” she said as if it was okay for her to wander in the house at that time of night.

  I was almost crying due to sleep deprivation. “Oh my God! Why don’t you go to sleep?”

  Casey was neither sleeping nor letting me go to sleep. My five-year-old daughter had brought me down to my knees, and honestly, I was missing video call with her.

  I didn’t know until then why it’s difficult to understand women. But now I know. They don’t want anybody to figure them out; their mystery is their charm.

  I then covered my face with the sheet—fingers crossed—hoping that Casey would go away.

  She didn’t.

  I literally begged, “Go to sleep.”

  “I can’t.”—She pulled the sheet down from my face—“Grandpa is snoring.”

  “What?!”

  “Grandpa is snoring loudly—and I can’t sleep because of it. I think m
y bedroom wall is cracking up bit by bit due to his snores. I am afraid, Daddy.”

  Casey then climbed all over me and hugged me tightly. She was about to cry—the one thing absolutely unbearable for me.

  And I yelled, “Your grandpa is an ass hat.” I took Casey in my arms, threw the sheet on the floor and stood up in frustration. “Take me to the laundry room.”

  I had thought of a plan to fix Frank’s snores and needed a tool from the laundry room.

  After a quick stop there, Casey held my hand with her little fingers and took me to the doorstep of Frank and Mary-Louise bedroom—or perhaps I should say, the snores echoing in the hallway paved the way to Frank’s bedroom on the extreme right. Amber’s bedroom was to the extreme left—and my poor daughter was stuck in the middle of all the adults.

  I opened the door and retched up—almost choked to death—at the disgusting smell welcoming me from inside. I didn’t need to guess twice to know what it was.

  A humongous stinky cloud of fart—courtesy of my father in law.

  That changed things unexpectedly and put a dent in my plan. I closed the door back again—still gagging—and said, “It’s very dangerous inside. I don’t know how your grandma put up with this.”

  “Now you know why I am so anxious to move in with you?” Casey blamed me for her terrible living condition and was looking really angry.

  Crossed arms.

  Furrowed brows.

  She was the spitting image of her mother at that moment.

  I tried to calm her down and politely asked, “Can’t you sleep with your mother for just one night? I’ll think of something in the morning.”

  “No! Kermit can’t sleep in a new place.”

  I was so much in fear of entering Frank’s bedroom—no less than a war zone—that I then yelled at an inanimate doll. “Damn you—Kermit. I will snap your neck and throw you in a dumpster—you green rascal.”

  “Daddy—No!” Casey hugged her doll tightly fearing for his safety and made a crying face again.

  I didn’t know how she did it. I guess she had somehow gotten aware that I couldn’t stand to see her cry—and she just kept on using it against me to get what she wanted.

  I knew if she started crying, she would wake everyone up. So, I kneeled down and gave a big kiss on her forehead to pacify her. “I am sorry, sweetie. Please forgive me. I’ll never ever hurt Kermit. I love the green guy. Look!”—I kissed Kermit right on his oversized lips—“Don’t worry, Casey. I’ll get your grandpa to shut up.”

  I was already sick in my mouth after kissing Kermit—not sure how the princess might have felt when she kissed the frog prince—but then had to get myself ready to open the door again.

  I pulled my shirt up to my nose to prevent possible lung damage as I plodded into the battlefield. Casey too followed me after laying Kermit face down on the floor outside—essentially covering his nose to save him from the torture.

  “Daddy, I’ll come with you.”

  “No, Casey—it’s too dangerous. I don’t know if you can even breathe in there.” I tried to warn Casey, but she was adamant to come with me. It looked as if it ain’t her first rodeo.

  We got down on our hands and knees and entered Frank’s bedroom. If only I had brought a heat sensor camera with me, I would have known what kind of inflammable situation we were dealing with there.

  The room was reeking like hell, and Frank’s snores—more like the sound of a steam engine, but of freight, not passenger—only exacerbated the situation.

  We crawled further and reached the bedside. But what I saw there overwhelmed my heart with pity for Mary-Louise.

  It was terrible—utterly terrible.

  Mary-Louise was wearing her eye patch on her nose and using her pillow as one giant earmuff. Then I got to know how that courageous woman had survived in there for so long. I then had a lot more respect for her from the bottom of my heart.

  I pulled out a clothespin from my pocket and whispered to Casey, “When I give you the signal, run like the wind and don’t look back. Do you copy?”

  “Yes . . . ,” she said in the nosy voice; she had her nostrils firmly pinched together.

  I began closing in to place the clothespin on Frank’s big nose. I should have brought some industrial grade clamp instead of a clothespin. I was barely a fingernail away to get the job down when something unexpected happened. Frank moved his hand to scratch his forehead and the clothespin slipped out of my hand only to land on the worst place I could imagine.

  My mother-in-law’s breast.

  Oh, shit!

  I wanted to go back and bring another clothespin from the laundry room after that untoward incident, but I knew in my heart that once I was out of there—my adrenaline would wear off and I would never return.

  At least not that night.

  I had no option left but to take a detour. I turned around, nodded at Casey, and crawled towards Mary-Louise’s bedside.

  I was faced with a serious challenge to retrieve the clothespin, and it was far more difficult than I expected. The clothespin was already settled there but was gradually sliding off to her right with each exhale. It was soon going to drop in the middle of her and Frank, which would have then made it impossible to recover.

  It was a time-sensitive meticulous task for which I was not the best person—I never was. As I reached out to pick the clothespin, my hands began shaking with the thought of accidentally grazing my mother-in-law’s—you know what.

  I had started to sweat profusely by then as if I just came out of the shower. My palms had gone moist. Tiny drops of sweat were dripping from my forehead. But it didn’t stop me from doing what I had to do.

  I tried again. And failed.

  Seeing me struggle, Casey came to my rescue. She walked up to Mary-Louise, picked up the clothespin with her little thumb and index finger in no time, and handed it to me before getting back down on her knees.

  I couldn’t believe my eyes when it happened; Casey was so sneaky. At that moment, I was very much confident that Casey could do anything in life she put her mind to—especially being a surgeon.

  I asked Casey to wait for me by the door, and I crawled back again to Frank’s side to shut his snores off. I carefully placed the clothespin on Frank’s nose and hurriedly got out of there with Casey.

  Casey started laughing loudly when we were out in the hallway, and I had to shut her off to avoid waking anybody up. I quickly covered her mouth with my sweaty palm and brought her back to her bedroom.

  And then we eagerly waited for almost ten minutes to confirm if our mission was successful. Suffice to say it was because we didn’t hear Frank’s snores through the wall anymore. We hugged and shook our hands to congratulate each other.

  It was already quite late. I tucked Casey in the bed—the second time in a row that night—and asked, “Do you want me to do a monster check under the bed?”

  “Monsters are not real.”

  “That’s my girl.” I kissed her on the forehead and said, “Good night, sweetheart.”

  I was just about to leave, but she grabbed my hand. As I turned back, she looked straight into my eyes and asked the very same question again. “Daddy, when are you going to take me to live with you?”

  “Soon, Casey—very soon.”—I kissed her hand and knelt down by her bedside—“That’s why I am here to take you and your mother with me.”

  “Would you also take Mommy with you?”

  “Of course, of course . . . ,” I said patting her head.

  “But Grandpa hates you. He will never let you take Mommy with you.”

  “Oh, to hell with your grandpa. He is an—”

  “Ass hat.” Casey took words right out of my mouth.

  “Yes, but probably don’t call him that while you are still living with him. All right, sweetie.”

  “But do you think Mommy will come with us? She hates you too, you know.”

  “No, she doesn’t. She has just forgotten that she is in love with me—and I am here
to remind her the same.” I got up off the floor and further said, “You are very little to understand the depth of my relationship with your mother. It’s doesn’t matter how much she hates me; it’s doesn’t matter how much we fight; at the end, we will end up together. That’s what opposites do; they can’t remain afar from each other very long.”

  I had bottled up my feelings for Amber for so long that it finally came out when at last I got a listener to pour my heart to. Without regard to the fact that Casey couldn’t possibly understand a word I was saying, I continued to share my feelings for Amber.

  I took a deep sigh and further said, “Heart is not a heart without a heartbeat, flowers are nothing without their essence, and I am nothing without your mother. I am a wanderer of the sea, and she is my seashore; I am a moth, and she is my flame; I am a lost soul, and she is my heaven. Casey, you need to know . . .”

  Casey fell asleep when I was just starting to express my love for Amber. As expected, I went overboard which Casey couldn’t handle—and possibly got bored and fell asleep. I gently caressed her cheek, kissed her forehead again and came out of the room.

  “Geez, you scared me . . . ,” I said with a deep exhale with my hand on my chest. I was startled to bump into Amber outside Casey’s room and asked, “Were you checking up on me?”

  “Yes—I was. Walls are thin here. When I heard you talking to Casey at this time of night, I thought you were on the move.”

  “You mean, me running off with Casey and leaving you behind? Yeah—that’s not going to happen. I am going to take both of you home.”

  “This is my home. This is Casey’s home. We are already here. Which home are you talking about?”

  “The real one,” I said pointing at my heart. “It’s little small but cozy. I’ll take good care of both of you. You will be very happy here.”

  “I would appreciate if you stop filling Casey’s head with this garbage. This”—she pointed her finger back and forth at herself and me—“is never going to happen.”

  “This”—I did the same thing with my fingers—“will happen. It’s already happening. You can’t stop it—better you just give in.”