A Father's Redemption [page 6]

One

It is said that once a new-born baby enters the world he/she should be immediately placed at the mother's heart. A connection of fate they call it, is created between mother and child entwining them in to the most sacred bond on earth. 

My bonding is just a tad different. The minute I was born it was not my mother's heart I rested my head on to first, it was actually my fathers. They say I am my father's miracle. Why, you may ask?

I was born dead. That's right, dead. The definition or one of many definitions, of death is when the heart no longer beats. I was born with a still heart, so in that sense I was born dead. When something like this happens, the first thing the doctor does is place you at your mothers heart in hope that something divine, something unearthly which can only be defined in a three letter word, would create that power in your mothers heartbeat which would in turn power yours. But what if, (and I'm warning you now, what if's are never any good, well not in my story) what if your mothers heart is also still too? Then what happens?

This was my case. I was a dead baby with a dead mother. The doctors didn't know what to do, where exactly would they get that miraculous heartbeat which would start up my useless organ from. Where? That's when my Papa stepped in. 

'He took you in his arms and gently holding your head, as if you were a delicate feather, he placed you to his chest and whispered your name. The next thing we knew, you were crying. The doctors shouted in joy, the nurses sighed in relief but your father just stood there motionless. He wouldn't let them take you, he was scared that the moment you were pulled apart from him, you would also leave him too. So there you lay, cradled in his arms while the midwife cleaned the blood off you, checked your heartbeat and cut your umbilical cord. He freaked out when he first saw the large scissors in her hands; he refused to accept that it was necessary to even touch you with that thing. But I convinced him that if it wasn't cut in time then you'd get infected." BP (short for bade papa) would tell me. "And that was how you became your papa's heartbeat."

I was sat in my English literature class one day when the teacher opened the discussion of the connection of two hearts. The boy sitting next to me put his hands up and said Love. The person two seats down my left agreed and added true love. I remember the new girl say that two heartbeats become one when two people made for each other fall in love. Do you know what I did at that very moment? I started laughing. The teacher glared at me, commanding me to stop at once, but I couldn't. I spent the rest of period three in the corridor. If you are assuming that it was out of arrogance that compelled me to burst out laughing then you're wrong. The reason behind my laughter is justified because in my defense, they were talking utter bullshit. It wasn't possible that what they were saying could even remotely make any sense. I should know because my very own heartbeat is connected with my papa's. That's what should've been discussed, not how two star crossed lovers meet and fall in love and yada yada yada. Their heartbeats are not joined together because they were already beating prior meeting. My heartbeat on the other hand is joined because my heartbeat started to beat the second I touched my father's chest. That's what a connection of two hearts is, not some Shakespeare metaphorical crap.

It's been two years since that incident happened, but every time I hear the word heart or beat, I always seem to remember it. Like today for example, BP had this new crazy idea to set up a heart foundation in my name. I know, so cliche right, open up a heart foundation in the name of the girl with the heart problem. The minute BP announced it, I looked at Papa across the breakfast table and smirked. He nodded his head letting me know he'll take care of it. I watched him stand up and clear his throat. 

"Bhai, I don't think that would be necessary."

 BP looked disheartened. "But why Viraat?" 

One look at Papa's face and I could tell he was torn between keeping me happy and keeping his brother happy. It was time for me to step in. 

"BP, I love you but seriously I'm still alive. Here's a thought, why don't you open up a foundation after I die, you know I bet that'll get me a lot of death blessings," I said positively. 

"Nevaeh!" they all shouted simultaneously, and on cue BP started to cry. 

One thing about my family is, they're a bunch of criers. Well with the exception of me, SB and pickles (He's a dog so I doubt crying is in his genetic functioning) I allowed myself to be hugged by my overly sensitive uncle, "I'm sorry Nev, I didn't mean to make you feel sick." 

I sighed and kneeled up on the chair to level with his face. Papa and BP were so damn tall that even though I'm now almost a 16 year old girl, I still had to use the help of different items of furniture to reach up to them. It probably didn't help that I was a tiny 5ft2, but hey!! I didn't get to decide my gene pool. 

"Stop apologising Viren Singh Vadhera or I swear I'll drag you to court," I commanded wiping his tears with my sleeves. 

He picked me up and started to spin me. Another negative of being tiny; I get spun around, lifted and carried like I don't have legs of my own. "BP put me down," I squealed hitting his shoulders, (yeah like that made a difference)

"What did you say? You're taking me to court are you?" 

I wrapped my hands around his neck and gave my most angelic smile yet. "No bade papa I just wanted to see you at work in your lawyer outfit fighting the bad people. Honest." 

Okay, how many times has this ever worked? But you don't know these two Vadhera brothers. Who would've thought that their greatest weakness of all was a tiny 15 year old girl whose name was heaven spelt backwards?

BP put me down and kissed my forehead. "Don't you ever talk about that which shall not be named, again." I nodded and walked back to my seat. 

"Harry Potter reference Bhai?" Papa asked. 

BP nodded, "Obviously." 

I rolled by eyes, these were the two most important people in my life; still reading Harry Potter books.

After breakfast I sat in the garage counter top helping Papa clean one of his many, many cars. Today we picked the Audi A5, it's grey exterior looked pretty dusty so I decided it needed a wash. "Papa," I begun handing him a cloth. 

"Yes angel." 

"I was wondering," I passed him the liquid soap. "When can I go back to school?" 

As expected he looked away and fiddled with a spanner. "Nev, I know you want to go back but I don't think it's a good idea now because your-" 

'I'm physically restrained unlike normal teenagers," I finished for him. He looked at me with sad, loving eyes and I instantly felt bad for hurting him. I jumped off the counter top ungracefully and hugged him. "Daddy daughter drive and we talk about this later?" He held me closer to his heart and I felt a bit more alive. 

"Agreed." 

We were a couple of sad cases, papa and me. Everytime we had something important to discuss, say for example school or other things which I can't be bothered to think about right now, we would always run away from it. One of the best running away exits was hopping in to one of the cars and taking a long drive across the never ending Californian routes. This was one reason we needed BP, he was the 'discuss important things with guy'. I swear if it wasn't for him, me and papa would be living in a cave. I'm not exaggerating, we seriously would. 

I always sat shotgun, weather it was Papa driving or BP, that was one seat they never compromised with. I pressed play on the the touchscreen manual on the dashboard and started singing along to Maroon five's Misery. 

"You sound horrible," was the response I got from my father. This seems harsh, a father telling his daughter she sings horrible, oh my! But I gave him a cheesy grin. I know I sing like a retarded jellyfish but that was fine by me. I didn't want people lying, telling me I sang like freakin Adele when I clearly knew the reality. 

"Why thank you Mr Vadhera." He turned up the volume and increased the speed. 

"Your most welcome Miss Junior Vadhera." 

We arrived at the rock. The rock was basically well, how does one describe a rock? It's this jagged piece of matter which is what makes up the lithosphere, one of the three spheres of the earth. The rock lived in a deserted area off route 66. Papa always brought me here to watch the sun set in to its reds, oranges and hints of grey. We sat there, same as always on the rock. My shoulders barely reaching his, my feet dangling whilst his touched the ground. 

"Confused query," I said still looking watching the sun disappear. 

"Share or keep?" he asked. 

I opted for share. I loved my Papa for an infinity amount of reasons. One was that he was a very impatient guy. That's not a good trait? gasp the imaginary audience in my head. I laugh; it is when the only person he's patient with is me. Cue the realisation, ooohhh!!

I didn't voice my query till the sun totally submerged itself in its colours. "Query: Why am I short when you are giant?" 

He tapped his chin, "Maybe you're not my daughter." 

I hit him, "Take that back, take it back right now!" 

He laughed, "Sorry, sorry, sorry."

 I am not a forgiving person, "Two more times, this time no laughing." 

He obliged and I forgave him. "Answer to query:" he began, picking me up for a piggyback. "Your Mama was a ded futiya, in English, she was short. So my mini heaven spelt backwards, you've luckily inherited that from her." 

I smiled feeling better. I'm short, so what; at least I share something with my Mom. "Query solved," I replied happily.

***

"Nev, are you okay?" 

I turned to face my worried father and smiled. "Why wouldn't I be?" 

He stopped the car and touched my arm. Immediately unbuckling my seatbelt and grabbing red (that's my blanket) from the back seat, he positioned my head on his lap and covered me fully. "Don't focus on your breathing okay, think of that movie we watched last week." He buckled me in again stroking my hair with his hands. 

"The one where the guy killed the guy who turned out to be his brother and then his girlfriend shot him?" I just managed to mutter. 

He put one hand on the wheel and I felt the car begin to move. "Let me guess, Bhai took you out when I was working my butt off on the case he was just too ill to handle?" 

I wanted to nod but I felt too tired so I responded a yes by squeezing his hand. "I was actually talking about the movies with the 3D monkeys, remember that one?" I squeezed his hand again. "Nev is it getting worse; do you want your oxygen mask?" I squeezed his hand twice for a no. "Don't worry sweetie we're almost home. Bhai called the nurse and they're waiting for you there, you'll feel better soon." 

I knew he was telling the truth, but I couldn't help feeling afraid.

Originally posted by: Shivrajput52

Cant wait... Post now.. wanna read nw..!!

Ava, really you are briljant, love her nickname, 'Heaven spelt backwards', the story is so good, it gives me hope, not every father has to be a bad one. In most cases the dads are awesome, and in this particular case he is ... -can't find the right word(s), you will get to hear then when I found it. Gosh I breathing heavily, that is the effect your story has on me. It is beautiful in the end when you are done reading everything sinks in. Ava you are awesome you are so damn special you writing is so different from all the other writings. I love your work.

P.s. The part where she's happy because she shares something with her mom, it is beautiful. The feeling when you share something with someone you miss so much, it is awesome! It is so easy to relate to, like I am really listening to someone.