No Longer Waiting For You Chapter 09
That night, Tania really did come down with a raging fever. Her temperature climbed all the way to 39.5°C, and even after she took fever-reducing medicine, it still would not come down.
Konnor was away on a business trip. I held Tania by myself, getting ready to take a cab to the hospital, when the doorbell rang.
When I opened the door, Rodney was standing there, holding fever-reducing medicine and cooling patches for physical temperature reduction.
“I just saw your lights were on — does Tanny have a fever?” he said, breathing hard. “I drove here. I’ll take you to the hospital.”
I looked at him and hesitated for a moment. Tania whimpered uncomfortably in my arms.
“OK.”
It was the first time in five years that I had said “OK” to him.
At the hospital, Rodney sat by the bed and wiped Tania’s palms and soles with warm water. Over and over again, his eyes filled with heartache.
“I’m sorry, Tanny,” he whispered. “It’s all Dad’s fault.”
Tania opened her eyes hazily, looked at him, and said nothing.
By daybreak, Tania’s fever finally broke. Rodney had fallen asleep with his head on the bedside, still gripping Tania’s tiny hand tightly.
I looked at his exhausted profile, my feelings a tangled mix.
For the past six months, he had waited at the kindergarten gate every day, rain or shine.
He remembered that Tania liked strawberries and did not like cilantro. He remembered she needed to hug that old rabbit plushie to sleep. He remembered she was allergic to mangoes and pollen.
He wrote down everything about Tania in a little notebook and carried it with him.
He was no longer the cold husband who only replied “OK.” Nor was he the unfit father who had missed every part of his daughter’s growing up.
But so what? Some harm, once done, could never be made right again.
When Konnor rushed back, Rodney was already awake.
“You should go back. I’ve got it here,” I said to Rodney.
Rodney nodded and stood up. When he reached the door, he turned back to look at Tania, his eyes full of reluctance.
“Liv,” he looked at me. “I’m going back home next week.”
I froze for a moment.
“There are still a lot of things to handle at the company,” he said with a small smile, strained and forced. “But I’ll fly over to see Tanny every month.”
“OK.”
He left. Konnor stepped up beside me and gently took my hand. “Don’t overthink it.”
“I’m not,” I said, leaning against his shoulder. “I just feel like time goes by so fast.”
In the blink of an eye, five years had passed. The woman who once had nothing but Rodney in her eyes had died on that birthday night, soaked in the scent of sweet cream and gardenia perfume.
Now, all I wanted was to live quietly with Tania and Konnor.
Half a month later, Rodney went back home.
On the day he left, he came to the kindergarten to see Tania. He bought her a huge stuffed rabbit, and a complete set of the “Encyclopedia of the Starry Sky.”
“Tanny, Dad has to go,” he said, squatting down and stroking her head. “Dad will come see you again next month, okay?”
Tania looked at him and nodded. Then she suddenly reached out her little arms and wrapped them around Rodney’s neck.
“Dad, goodbye.”
Rodney’s body stiffened all at once. He hugged Tania tightly, his shoulders trembling without stop.
I stood not far away, watching the scene, and my tears finally fell.
Not because I still loved him, but because I had finally made peace with the person I used to be.
Rodney left, and he never brought up getting back together again. On the first weekend of every month, he would show up at the kindergarten gate right on time.
He would take Tania to the park to feed pigeons, to the amusement park to ride the carousel, to the library to read. He would bring me some specialties from back home — not much, just a small token.
We were like two ordinary friends, keeping only the most basic contact for our daughter.
A year later, Konnor and I got married. The wedding was simple, with only a few close friends and family.
Tania wore a little white flower-girl dress, holding our hands, smiling so happily.
Rodney did not come. He had someone deliver a gift for him: a pure-gold locket engraved with Tania’s name.
There was also a card that read: “Wishing you happiness.”
I put the locket around Tania’s neck. Sunlight spilled over it, making it gleam.
I looked at gentle Konnor beside me, and at Tania smiling so brightly, and at last I let a relieved smile show.
Five years of waiting and four years of pain were all in the past.
And I no longer waited for anyone to come home.
The end.
