James and I met when we were both twenty-seven. At that time, James had already graduated from university with honours and was getting ready to defend his dissertation. Hed done exceptionally well in his studies. On top of that, hed already managed to save up enough to buy a two-bedroom flat and a garage. After finishing his course, he planned to buy a car next. A year later, we got married. Eighteen months on, our daughter arrived. By the time we turned thirty, our little girl was already two months old.
With James birthday fast approaching, I suggested we celebrate at a restaurant, inviting his parents to join us. But James refused. He insisted he wanted to spend his birthday only with us, his girls.
So thats what we did. The following evening, after work, James went to see his parents. Not long after, he came home looking defeated. He slumped on the sofa and burst into tears. I was stunnedthis grown, capable man, the father of my child, weeping like a boy. I wrapped my arms around him and softly tried to comfort him.
That night, something broke inside him. The truth came out. As a child, hed been beaten for the slightest mistakekicking a ball, muddying his clothes, spilling ink on his notebooks. Both parentsno mercy from either.
When I grew up, they stopped hitting me, but they never once spoke kindly to me, he said through sobs. I finished college with honours.
So what? they told him. Its only college. Anyone can go to university. And so James went, though he hadnt really needed a degree.
He bought his own flat.
Well, its only fifty square metres, they scoffed, as if forgetting their own home barely spanned thirty.
When we marriedShes small and skinny. Will she even be able to have children? they sneered.
Then our daughter was born.
Who knows whose child that is! Theres nothing of us in her! More cold suspicion, never warmth.
And when he didnt throw a banquet for their wedding anniversary, they caused a scene.
Ungrateful son! they declared. That was their judgement.
And then James looked at me through red-rimmed eyes. Am I such a bad person that they cant love me?
I held his hand and reminded him, Some people simply arent able to love, James. You were just unlucky with the family you were born into. But you have us nowme and your little girl. We love you so much. Because you are the best man in the world.
Dont you see how happy your daughter is when you step through the front door each evening? I whispered, brushing away a tear.
And remembering the way our girls eyes light up whenever her daddy comes home, James wiped his face, let out a shaky breath, andat lasta small smile spread across his lips.
