Maisey's Special Day

“Don’t think about it,” I tell myself, “just don’t think about it and you’ll be fine.”

I have this notion that if I make it through today, I can forget and make it for the rest of my life. And for some reason, although it doesn’t make any sense, it is all that keeps me going.

Because I believe it. And believing it gives me hope for the future.

Today is the tenth anniversary of the day that no one in our small village will ever forget. The day that Nels disappeared.

We had looked, of course. Nels was everybody’s favorite, though nobody would’ve admitted it. The only son of his parents, the adopted son of every other family in our village, the object of every young girl’s attentions… and the father of my child.

He was so perfect. I can still hear his voice the first time he told me he loved me. He had never loved anyone before. And he loved me.

Only two weeks later we performed the ceremony. Neither of us had wanted to wait. We had been in love for nearly a year, and it took Nels’ bravery to unite us.

I thought we would always be together. I thought that he could never leave me. Today I know that is not true.

When I learned about the baby, I didn’t tell him at first. I was so happy, but I didn’t want him to know. Nels’ mother had lost so many, and she’d lost them early. I didn’t want to get his hopes up if anything was going to happen.

But nothing happened, and after about a month of secrecy, I couldn’t keep it to myself. I still remember his face when he heard. I can see his beautiful eyes shining with tears, hear his voice, and feel his joy.

I still see him every day in the life of our daughter. Her eyes light up as his did, her voice carries tones that to this day remind me of him. But one thing she will never have is his mind. That is my fault.

It was almost my time when he disappeared. I was preparing dinner and watching for him. He had gone to the market with the fish he’d caught, and I was expecting him any minute. Now, ten years later, I still catch myself watching for him.

All of the village family helped to search for him. Only I and a few elders stayed behind. But Nels was never found.

The next day the pains started, and soon I had delivered a healthy baby girl. But as the days and weeks passed, we could see she was different. She did not respond as other children. That part of her has never changed.

My grief, the darkness that passed over me and surrounded me when Nels disappeared, it went inside of me and destroyed my daughter. The part of me that died ten years ago rotted inside me and infected my child, and she will never be like the other children.

Today, I must keep myself busy. I must not think of him. If I allow myself any time for idleness, my mind will wander, and I will ask myself where he is. I will wonder if he is dead, or if he left me. And I will try to decide which would be more painful if discovered true.

Maisey’s tenth year is coming tomorrow. I have always had this blessing, although for the first few years I counted it as a curse. At first, I considered her day a painful reminder of my loss. I hated her, and I hated that she reminded me of him. I was so surrounded by the darkness inside me that Nels mother had to take me under her wing as if I was a small child. If she had not, I would have harmed both Maisey and myself. At the time I cursed her for it. Now I bless her. Now that I have come to love Nels’ daughter. And mine.

I look up from my task and see Maisey running across the field towards me. I smile at the sight, because Maisey runs like no other. A few steps, then a jump, then a trip. Up again, down again, and always smiling.

I reach out to steady her when she reaches me. She doesn’t understand much, but she seems to sense that today is a special day for me, because she holds up a bunch of wildflowers that have been crushed by her sweaty hands.

“Tam. Dekos.”

She is almost ten years old, and these are some of the only words she can lisp. Ever since Nels mother left the earth, no one other than me, or perhaps Nels father, Maisey’s grandfather, can understand her. Tam is her special name for me, her mother. Dekos is a word that I have long since understood to mean anything that Maisey finds fun, beautiful, or interesting. It is also an expression of her love.

Whatever it means at this moment, she has communicated to me that her heart is full, and that she wants mine to be as well.

I kneel beside her and allow her to arrange the flowers in my hair. When she has finished, I take her hand and we begin to walk back to the house. We do not talk much because we do not need to.

When we reach our dwelling, I see Nels father slowly walking up the path toward us. I was expecting him. It is a difficult day for him as well.

He, Maisey, and I spend the day preparing for tomorrow. Maisey’s favorite task is baking, so I allow her to help me. Although she doesn’t understand all that we say, she can feel the excitement in our hearts for her special day. She also feels the sorrow that we try to conceal, even from ourselves.

The day seems to drag at times, but before I realize what has happened, it is gone. Maisey must be put to bed, and surprises must be prepared.

I stand at the door and gaze at the setting sun, then turn back inside to announce bedtime. I laugh when I see Maisey, sitting on a stool and trying to stay awake. This laugh makes her jump, and I traverse the distance between us in an instant to keep her from falling. The three of us, Nels’ family, laugh together for a moment. But the laughter soon leaves.

I lead Maisey to her bed in the warm corner and tuck her in.

She looks up at me and smiles sleepily.

“Da. Tum.”

Da is the word I taught her that means her father. The word that means Nels. When she was a baby, I whispered that name to her every night as I put her in bed. And I never stopped.

I look down at her, smile, and say, “Yes, Maisey. Da. Tum loves Da. Maisey loves Da. Da loves Maisey.”

She closes her eyes and turns onto her side, away from me.

“Da. Maisey,” she whispers.

Nels father and I sit together silently for the remainder of the evening. Today was difficult, but we don’t need to speak. What words would we use? All of the Where-do-you-think-he-could-be’s and Do-you-think-he’s-ever-coming-back’s have already been spoken. We still think those questions. At least I do. Every moment of every day for the past ten years. But there is no purpose in putting them into words anymore. Because neither of us knows the answers.

I go to bed with both joy and sorrow warring in my heart. Joy for the ten years of Maisey, sorrow for the ten without Nels. Joy for the love of my daughter towards me, sorrow for the love she cannot have for the father she does not know. The last thought that passes through my mind before I fall asleep is the thought that I have made it through today.

As always, Maisey is awake long before me and playing outside before I am out of bed. I rise and begin preparing the morning meal and planning the day. Every year, after the morning meal, we play games, Maisey and I. Maisey loves this, because I always set aside the entire day for anything that she wants to do. We will play until Maisey’s grandfather comes, and then we will have surprises for Maisey, the surprises that we planned and made the night before.

I finish preparing the morning meal and go to the door to call Maisey inside. For a moment I cannot find her, but then I see her beside the well. I am about to call her, to tell her that she is not allowed to be playing there, when I see that she is not alone. She is holding up the pitcher to a man I do not know. And he is smiling at her, thanking her, drinking.

I call for her, and at the sound of my voice, both of them turn to me. Maisey smiles and runs towards me in the way that only Maisey can run. I advance towards her, reprimanding her for standing by the well. The man asks me to forgive her, as she was only helping him get a drink. For the first time, I look him over.

He is filthy, but looks as though he is ashamed of it. His tattered clothes hang off of his skinny, malnourished frame as if they are hanging on nothing at all, and his hair and beard are long and unkempt. When I look into his eyes I see brokenness, sorrow, and hardness. But for some reason, as his eyes fix upon mine, I see them become gentler, softer, more kind and familiar. He looks at Maisey this way also, and smiles a curious smile. His appearance on any other man would make me uneasy. But this man does not. I cannot help but feel pity, and even compassion for him.

Before I realize what I am doing, I have invited him to Maisey’s special morning meal, and he has accepted. We sit at the table eating for some time, and I am glad that I invited him to eat with us. He displays good manners, but it is obvious that it has been some time since he has had a full stomach.

All through the meal, he and Maisey talk and laugh as if they understand exactly what the other is saying, although I have no doubt that they don’t. Occasionally, when I stand to fill either his or Maisey’s plates, I catch him looking at me with his cold, questioning eyes. As soon as he notices that I have seen him, he continues to talk with Maisey as if he hadn’t been looking at me.

I am beginning to feel uncomfortable with his presence when he stands and announces that he must leave.

In an effort to be polite, and seeing that Maisey does not want him to go, I ask him to stay a bit longer to celebrate her special day with us.

“Thank you, but you and your husband should celebrate together.”

This is the first time in ten years that someone has assumed I am not alone. I suddenly realize that to anyone who doesn’t know me, I still seem like a fairly young woman.

I give a nervous laugh and attempt to correct him.

“No, I’m not married.”

He seems confused, so I quickly explain. It has been so long since I have had to explain this to someone that the words hurt.

“I mean, I don’t know. My husband disappeared ten years ago. I don’t know if…”

I stop, feeling foolish and trying not to cry.

He stands looking at me with an indecipherable look on his face. He looks into my eyes as if trying to read my mind, and I am struck with a new aspect that I see in them that I cannot understand, but would probably call hope.

“Forgive me, but you never remarried?”

I shake my head.

“Why?”

I shrug, wondering why in the world I am talking to a total stranger about this. I force the words through the tears that threaten to spill over.

“I never loved anyone like Nels.”

A lone tear falls down my cheek, and as I try to conceal it from Maisey, I see it mirrored on the man’s face as he whispers, “I love you.”

The breath catches in my throat. They are Nels’ words. It is Nels’ voice.

I whisper his name and before I realize what is happening, he has come around the table and embraced me. We stand this way for some time, silent and still. Suddenly I realize he is sobbing quietly. I pull back, look into his eyes, his beautiful, damaged eyes, and see a broken, happy man.

“Oh, Nels,” is all I can say. So many questions, but I can’t speak.

He turns to Maisey, tears still running down his cheeks, and I see her standing there trying to make sense of everything that doesn’t fit into her familiar world. He kneels beside her and pulls her into a massive hug that she does not resist.

They stand there like this for some time, Nels crying, Maisey not daring to disturb him. Finally, I kneel beside Maisey, touch her arm, and whisper, “Da, Maisey. This is Da.”

She looks at me blankly for a moment, and suddenly she seems to understand. She pulls back, wipes away Nels’ tears, and points to him.

“Da.”

She points to herself.

“Maisey.”

She looks at me, then at Nels, and smiles.

“Tum. Da. Maisey. Dekos.”

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