Child Brides of India

By C. Stanton Leman

Chapter 71: Dante’s Inferno (Mgg, rom, cons, no sex)

I awoke as Priya sat on the bed. The clock read six-thirty. Faatina was still fast asleep on her stomach where I’d left her last night. I sat up and looked at the tiny one next to me and Priya asked, “How was she last night? Did she give you any trouble?”

“No,” I replied, “no trouble at all. In fact, she washed for bed.”

“What?” she asked, “You’re joking, right?”

“Kind of,” I chuckled, “while you and I were saying goodnight, she found the toilet bowl and decided to wash up.”

Priya laughed and asked, “How about bed? Did she give you a problem?”

“No,” I said, “she struggled for a few minutes but went to sleep without any trouble.”

“See,” she replied complaining, “You can get her to do things and she listens to you. She doesn’t listen to me and I struggle to get her to sleep.”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” I answered. “It’s just the authority figure thing probably. She knows you’re a push over and that she can get away with not listening to you.”

“Oh yeah,” Priya replied sarcastically, “and what do you do, big bad Daddy that she feels compelled to listen to you?

“I beat the soles of her feet unmercifully,” I quipped.

“No wonder she’s not walking yet,” Priya said.

“Okay, I’ll stop,” I replied.

“Go take your shower,” she ordered, “I’ll watch the bride.”

Standing in the shower, I had that eerie feeling one gets when you know you’ve had a bad dream that scared the shit out of you, but you just can’t seem to remember. It’s as if the vision is right in front of me but it’s just not in focus: a very annoying, nagging feeling that left me unsettled and slightly sick to my stomach.

Returning to the bedroom for prayers, Priya saw the unsettled look on my face and asked me what was wrong. I told her about the horrid nightmare that mysteriously eluded understanding and that I was upset thinking about it in the shower. I woke the sleeping princess and changed and dressed her in a yellow sundress with little one-inch thick straps that buttoned in the front.

We said prayers and went downstairs to eat. Monaavi had arrived and was drinking tea and chatting with Mom. While feeding Faatina her eggs, I silently observed our nanny/teacher.

As I watched her talk, make expressions, smile, and smirk, I noticed for the first time just how beautiful a woman Monaavi is. Her big expressive light brown eyes and her easy gently smile. She has a very light wheatish complexion with a small nose and slightly full lips. She had a child-like quality to her that was probably why every child she came in contact with was attracted to her. As she held her cup, I watched her long, slender fingers and the graceful way she held the saucer and cradled her cup.

She caught me looking at her out of the corner of her eye and smiled while she continued to talk to Mom. She blushed slightly and had to lower her head, using her veil to remove a non-existent speck of dirt from her eye. Not wanting to make her uncomfortable, I turned my attention to feeding Faatina.

Priya wanted to remind me of what she’d warned me of earlier said, “Guess what, Daddy?”

“No, what?” I responded.

With a sigh of relief, Priya replied, “She’s all yours for the week. You get to watch her, change her, bathe and dress her until Friday. Isn’t that just wonderful?”

“You’re joking, right?” I asked. “I mean you’ll help, won’t you?”

“Uh, what was that you said the other night?” she reminded, “Oh yeah, I think your words were, ‘I’d rather not.’”

“I said I was sorry,” I whined, “and I got the girls out of the tub, right?”

“Mom, Monaavi,” Priya asked, “should we let him stew a few days or what?”

Monaavi gave me a coy smile looked at me out of the corner of her eye and replied, “I think it might do ‘Daddy’ good to get involved in caring for his daughter, don’t you, Miss Joan?”

“Monaavi,” Mom chided, “what did I tell you about being so formal? But to answer your question, yes. I think it’ll do him a world of good.”

“What is this?” I whined. “This is a bloomin’ conspiracy. I’ve never bathed her. How do I do it?”

“It isn’t easy,” Priya said. ‘Trying to wash a squirming twenty pounds is hard when you’re leaning over a tub. Just remember from our showers together: no soap in the coochie: it burns.”

Monaavi, upon hearing this blushed, covered her face with her veil and giggled. So, in a futile attempt to take it out on the baby I said to her, “Okay kid, no pooping today. Got it?”

She looked at me and farted.

“Great! Not one of you listens,” I replied.

After a round of giggles, Priya said, “You could take her shopping. She needs some more diapers and wipes. Get some diaper rash cream also. Oh, Mom, what do you think about starting to potty train her now that she’s crawling?”

“You might try it and test her, but I don’t think she’s ready. She has to be able to tell you somehow that she has to go. Pick up a training seat while you’re out, Sean. It fits on top of the seat so she doesn’t fall trough.”

“Yeah,” Priya added, “we’ll see what kind of influence your ‘authority figure’ presence has on her in the bathroom.”

“Fine,” I resigned and replied, “How do I accomplish this task, Mom?”

Mom smiled and said, “Just sit her on the pot for a few minutes. If she doesn’t go, let her up. Do it about once an hour and try and catch her when she has to go. It takes time and patience. She might be frightened at first, so be understanding.”

I lifted the bride’s dress, pulled the back of her nappy out and looked down: Whew! Just butt cheeks, no present for Daddy. I scooped her up and held her like a football and said like Bogy, “Well kid, it’s you and me today. Let’s go shopping.”

I carried the little urchin out to load the stroller in the car to the sound of three giggling females. I asked our driver if he knew of any places to buy the required products. He laughed and said that he knew of a place where his wife shopped and headed to the store.

Once at the market, I put the baby in the stroller and told our driver to park the car, I may need some help and he just laughed. Now accompanied with an extra set of hands and another body, we went shopping. I purchased the diapers and wipes, and to my amazement, they had different kinds of diaper rash cream: even one actually called “Butt Cream!”

I got three kinds, including the butt cream, a training seat and a portable kiddie potty. Faatina seemed interested in a three-wheeled stroller so I asked the saleslady about it. She said it was for active mothers who used it to jog while pushing a stroller. Thinking I might get some exercise and watch the baby in one fell swoop, I bought it.

Proud of myself, we loaded the car and headed for home. Once we’d arrived, the women were pleasantly surprised and the “Butt Cream” got a few laughs as well.

I may have an IQ of 142, but I don’t even own a screwdriver much less know how to use one and the stroller was laying out on the living room floor in pieces. The matter was exacerbated by the fact that Faatina wanted to help and was moving all the parts around having a ball.

Hearing the commotion, Leeya and Attiya came in and assisted the tiny urchin in rearranging all the pieces. After about fifteen minutes of futility, I got frustrated and yelled out, “Monaavi! Mom! Priya!”

All three came running and just stood at the living room door laughing. Taking “control,” I ordered, “Monaavi, get these two demons outta here and back to class! Priya, lock this monster in a closet or put her down for a nap — just get her outta here! Mom, get Ravi in here and help me put this confounded thing together!”

As if on cue, all three women giggled and politely answered, “Yes, Dear,” and set to fulfilling my wishes. Ahhh, peace and quiet!

Ravi came in and tried to keep from laughing and I said to him, “Not a word or you’re fired!”

With that, he burst out laughing. Shaking my head I said calmly, “Come on, help me put this contraption together, will you please?”

Laughing, he nodded and left to get some tools. Without six miniature hands in the mix, we (or rather Ravi) had the shining new stroller in one piece sitting in the middle of the living room floor.

Leaning against the doorframe, Mom quipped, “A good lesson in product assembly wouldn’t you say, Boss?”

Shaking my head I replied, “Can it, Ma.”

“Well,” she retorted, “at least your father can put a stroller together.”

Priya appeared with the captivating one on her hip. She said wryly, “One job done, here’s another. I think she’s about due to go potty so why don’t you try your luck.”

With an audible sigh I replied, “Great!”

I had the feeling that this was a planned conspiracy because as I took the little smiling pixie and headed to the bathroom with trainer seat in one hand and the student in the other, the three smirking females followed.

I sat her on my knee as I pulled up her dress and said, “What, she’s got to have an audience?”

Priya quipped, “I wanna see your technique.”

Monaavi quipped, “This is all new to me: I’m here to learn.”

Mom quipped, “I’m here to make sure you don’t let the poor thing fall in and drown.”

“Get the video camera, we’ll make a training video.” I replied wryly.

They all giggled and Mom said, “You’d better get down to business or she’ll do it in her nappy. Don’t want that, do you?”

Shaking my head, I pulled the tabs on her nappy, lifted her up and set her on the toilet. She was sitting on her dress and the front hung down between her legs.

Mom observed, “Is she going to pee in the toilet or on her dress? She sitting on it, and she’ll pee all over the front the way you’ve got it hanging down there in front.”

“Here,” I retorted, “You do it!”

With a chuckle, Mom knelt beside me and said, “Pick her up. That’s it. Take her dress and roll it up so it doesn’t get in the way. Yes, like that. Now tuck it in like so, and there: let her try to pee. Just hold on to her and steady her so she doesn’t get scared and slip through the hole and fall in.”

With all three women looking on, Faatina sat there with her legs closed, hands against the sides her bottom holding herself up. She was looking at me giggling, kicking her feet and wiggling her toes.

I cooed to her, “Come on baby, go pee-pee for Daddy.”

She looked down and then back up at me. She then looked around at all the people staring and back at me again. I tickled the bottom of her foot and said, “Go pee-pee.”

I heard a spurt and then the sound of her flow tinkling into the bowl. Her eyes shot open wide and her mouth made an “O” and she laughed. She splayed her legs open, looked down to see herself pee then back up at me and kept laughing.

The women clapped and I complimented her, “Good girl!”

I took some paper and dabbed her little coochie dry and lifted her up. I took her to the couch and put a dry nappy on her. My girl had done me proud and I turned and proudly said, “See, nothin’ to it!”

Mom chuckled and said, “Beginner’s luck.”

“That’s not fair, Sean,” Priya said.

“And why is that?” I asked.

“Cause you can get any girl to go pee,” she quipped.

Mom choked laughing and Monaavi covered her face then slapped Priya’s arm saying, “Priya! That’s so rude!”

Priya just smiled at me and I kept silent: I wasn’t gonna touch that one!

It was close to dinnertime so Monaavi had the girls clean up their mess. I carried Faatina to the dining room, sat her on the floor and asked Pita for some tea. I took a sip and setting my cup down asked Priya, “What’s next, a bath?”

“No,” she replied, “not tonight. If you bathe a baby too much, it dries out their skin. You can learn that one tomorrow. Just wipe her hands, face and neck with a warm cloth.”

Dad came in about that time and went right upstairs to get ready for dinner. Monaavi was ready to leave and after parting salaams, she left for home. The topic of conversation at dinner was Faatina’s first success at potty training under Mom’s experienced tutelage (and my coaching, of course). Then Dad got a nice laugh out of my attempt at trying to assemble the stroller. All in all it was a good day at my expense.

After evening prayers Priya and Leeya kissed me goodnight and Priya said, “Okay, Daddy, potty, wash and to bed.”

I asked her hopefully, “Are you two fooling around tonight? I might join you later.”

“Oh no you don’t, Buster,” Priya quipped as she lightly slapped my face “you’ve got a bride that needs your undivided attention.”

“Come on, Priya,” I begged, “she’ll be asleep in thirty minutes.”

“And what if she wakes up and no one’s there or she falls off the bed?” she asked.

“Damn!” I said, “No fair.”

“Now you sound like Leeya,” Priya retorted.

“Seriously though, let’s talk a minute,” I asked.

I shut the bathroom door so my bedmate wouldn’t try to wash up without me and sat with Priya on the loveseat. “What?” she asked.

“Since when,” I asked “is Monaavi teaming up with you and Mom to rattle my cage?”

“I don’t know,” Priya replied. “Ever since the wedding, it just seems that she fits in with the family more.”

I chuckled and said, “By family, you mean you women, right?”

“Yeah, well,” she said, “she has contributed a lot, hasn’t she? I mean, she picked out your wedding clothes, which by the way looked great; and, she did come up with the solution to your marriage problem, didn’t she?”

Figuring that they had their fun, I was curious so I asked, “Did she like nursing?”

“God you’re such a letch,” she exclaimed. “All right, I’ll tell you, but you have to promise never tell I told you, okay?”

“Cross my heart,” I replied.

“Something’s up with her,” Priya said. “She stated crying and said that she burns in her heart to marry her one true love and have a child. When Faatina was dry nursing, she just cried dreaming that it was her infant she was nursing. It was a very emotional experience for her. She’s such a sensitive girl. God, she’s not a girl, she’s twenty-three, but she dreams and is as sensitive a young schoolgirl. Don’t you ever let her know I told you or she’d just die. ”

“I’d never say anything, Priya. Her one true love?” I asked, “Who’s she in love with?”

“When I asked her that,” Priya replied, “she just said it was her dream lover. Come on now, you’d better see if she’ll pee for you again. Get her cleaned up and ready for bed.”

With that, she rose, kissed me goodnight and left. I turned to attend to my bedmate. It was about time too, because I heard her crying but didn’t see her. Looking around I found her under the bed: stuck. I grabbed her by the ankles and pulled her out gently. I wiped her tears and said to her, “Okay, Sweetie, think you can tinkle for Daddy again?”

I removed her dress and diaper and carried her football style to the bathroom. Oops, no potty seat. Oh well, I sat her down and she sank down and almost fell in. So I held her up and coaxed her to pee. I did everything: I begged, cooed, tickled her feet, ran the water in the sink — nothing.

I warmed a cloth and washed her hands, face and neck. I picked her up off the toilet to carry her to bed and she decided she wanted to go and did: all down the side of my shirt and pants.

I gave her a mock stern look and said, “You’re like your mother: stubborn and don’t listen.”

She smiled and stuck her finger up my nose. Returning to the bath, I rinsed the washcloth and wiped her coochie and legs. Once I’d tossed her on the bed with a bounce and a giggle, I put her in a dry nappy. Watching her as I undressed, I hurried to the bathroom and quickly wiped myself off and put on a dry pair of boxers.

I pulled back the duvet, separated the sheet and crawled in next to her. I turned out the light and pulled her close. I lay on my left side as I pulled her to my stomach. She squirmed and cried lightly for a few minutes and like the previous night, I gently rubbed her chest and she soon fell asleep. Again, I rubbed down her leg and cupped her tiny foot in my palm. There was just something so lovely about her miniature foot that I just liked the feel of it in my hand as her tiny toes wiggled against my palm.

As I started to fall asleep, I remembered waking up from the nightmare and hoped I’d have a restful night. I went to sleep slowly, listening to her breathing.

Again, at four am I woke like last night: in fear, panting and gasping for breath with my heart pounding in my chest. This time, I could remember voices: I think mine and those of children and it seemed that some voices were making moans and sounds of pleasure at times, other times of pain. I thought that I was in a huge room or hall and there were others there but everything was blurred and out of focus. All the while someone was talking to me but I couldn’t remember what was said or who might be the one talking.

My sudden moves as I jumped up to a sitting position caused Faatina to startle and wake. I cooed to her, laid her on her stomach and gently rubbed and patted her back as she fell back to sleep. I rose and sat in the love seat trying to wrack my brain to remember more while everything was fresh in my mind, but to no avail. At five, I cradled Faatina’s left foot in my palm and fretfully fell asleep.

Wednesday was pretty much like the day before, with me watching and caring for Faatina. I took her out for a two-hour jog and she liked whizzing along as we moved along the side of the street. We tried to sit her on the kiddie potty, but she kept getting up and crawling away. All day long I had this knot in my stomach, dreading the night when the cryptic vision might reappear.

I was quiet during dinner and Mom and Dad seemed to hone in on it before Priya and asked me if everything was all right. I sloughed it off saying I hadn’t slept well and was just tired from my earlier jog.

Monaavi seemed aware that something wasn’t right and pretty much concentrated on the girls then went home when her workday was finished. After prayers that evening, Priya told me it was time to bathe Faatina. Being mentally occupied with my cryptic dream, I wasn’t in much of a mood to deal with a splashing toddler in the bath.

With Priya’s instruction, bathing her wasn’t as hard as I thought and she cooperated, being preoccupied with splashing and playing in the water. I didn’t concentrate too much on her genital area, only rubbing her a few times under the water to make sure she was clean. I wrapped her in a towel and carried her to the bed and dropped her playfully onto the bed with a bounce and a giggle.

I dried and powdered her then finished with a dry nappy. Now ready for bed, Priya kissed me goodnight saying, “You look tired, you’d better get some rest.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, “it’s been a long day.”

Not wanting to close my eyes, I spooned Faatina against my stomach and she fell right off to sleep. As I stroked her tiny toes in my hand, she’d wiggle her toes in response to my touch but seemed content knowing I was there as she slept. Every time I’d start to doze off, I’d jerk myself back to consciousness, trying to remain awake.

I castigated myself for being such a coward. Why was it so difficult to be adult about this? Why, every time something like this bothered me, I couldn’t (or wouldn’t) share my fears with someone I loved that would do all within their power to help me?

Who was I fooling? I remembered that Priya, although she never said anything, knew full well what I was going through and revealed in detail later of the struggle that I thought I was secretly struggling with inside. Why couldn’t I tell her when we were bathing Faatina? “You’re such an ass,” I said to myself, “It was only a bad dream. What are you afraid of?”

I don’t know what time I fell asleep, but the dream returned. It felt like I was floating down a long, dark tunnel with someone as he spoke. I could see a bright light at the end of the tunnel that got bigger as we neared the end. The voice said to me, “What you will see is your fate.”

As we entered a brightly lit great hall, everything was still blurry but I could see myself lying in a large bed as I floated above myself. My line of sight narrowed as I entered my body as it lay on the bed. I tried to look around, but couldn’t move my head.

The voice next to me said, “We both know what you are, don’t we, Sean?

“What do you mean?” I asked. “What am I?”

“You’re a lover of child flesh,” the voice replied,

At that moment, I knew who it was. I looked up and it was the demon. He was a hideous black with rough scaly-like skin that looked like he was covered in boils that oozed. He had eyes of fire and giant bat-like wings that folded under his arms. “Welcome to my world,” he taunted. “It’s your world too.”

I tried to move but was held in place by some invisible force. Suddenly, I could hear sounds of children moaning in pleasure and pain. I felt tiny hands moving over my body and giggling as I struggled to rise.

The demon asked, “Why struggle, Sean? This is what you crave, deep inside yourself; you can’t deny what you are.”

The tiny hands moving over my body began to stimulate me and I lifted my head to look down to see who was doing this. I saw three small Indian girls that looked familiar and asked the beast, “Who are they?”

“Why they’re your children,” he replied with an evil snicker, “They’re doing what you’ve taught them to do and their only desire is to please Daddy.”

“NO!” I screamed, “This can’t be happening!”

“Oh but it is!” he retorted with evil mocking. “Do you think that knowing the charms of your children wouldn’t have consequences? You’ve given them the knowledge of carnal pleasure that they will pass on to their children and their children’s children.”

“Look around,” he ordered as his wing swept across the room, “These are the generations of your seed enjoying the pleasures you’ve imparted to them.”

I was now able to lift my head, look around and the great hall was filled with moving, writhing bodies of children of all ages engaged in all manner of debauchery and lasciviousness.

“NO!” I screamed again, “This can’t be happening! It’s only a dream!”

“See,” the demon replied, “it all began with a touch.”

“Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha,” the demon tormented in an evil menacing laugh as he threw his head back, “I told you you were a child fucker and I was right, wasn’t I?”

I struggled with every muscle in my body but to no avail. All I could move was my head and everywhere I turned was the sight of children engaged in carnal pleasures. I closed my eyes but the vision was still clear in my mind’s eye. It was like a scene from Dante’s Inferno but instead, it was mine: my own living hell! I watched as tiny bodies fell from above to join the orgy below. I sobbed at the sight as the demon’s words played over and over in my mind like a looped audiotape: “It all began with a touch.”

“No, No, No,” I screamed, “I would never hurt my children!”

With an evil snicker the demon replied, “What? You think because you never hit your child you didn’t hurt them?”

“Look over there!” the demon commanded pointing with his wing.

I looked and there was Faatina engaged in oral sex with someone faceless. “It started with her.”

“Now look over there!” he commanded once more, “There’s your daughter from the womb of your beloved.”

I saw a young chocolate brown girl that looked like Priya being sodomized. I gasped in horror as he taunted, “She’s like her mother, isn’t she? Ha, ha, ha, ha!”

Just then, I awoke from my nightmare gasping. The pain in my chest was so sharp it felt like I was having a heart attack. Covered in sweat, I sat there in bed gasping and heaving. I rose, ran to the toilet and vomited in deep guttural wrenches. I dry heaved bile until my insides felt like they were being puked up. I stood at the sink and I grunted as my stomach clenched with each painful heave for several minutes.

I looked to the bed and Faatina was now on her back with her hand across her chest sleeping soundly. I stepped into the shower and let the cool water rush over me as I tried to regain my composure and think straight.

“How could this be?” I asked myself. “I’ve never once had a sexual thought towards that sleeping child. It can’t be true.

“This can’t be happening,” I told myself, “I’d never want to hurt my children. Will this demon inside me manifest itself sometime in the future with me abusing my children? Is my desire to taste of the charms of young girls unavoidable, and worst — uncontrollable? Is this is what I’m to become? Is this is my legacy to my children?”

As I turned off the shower, I said to myself, “Never! Never will I touch a child intimately. I have two child brides and I am content with this. My children are my children and never will I touch any of them!”

I dried off, put on clean boxers and lay on the bed about a foot away from my sleeping child. She rolled slightly and changed position so that she was almost perpendicular to me and raised her leg and rested it on my stomach. Feeling her leg lay across my stomach, just the contact of her skin against mine made me shudder.

Silently I sobbed out my pleas to Allah to end this misery and take me from this world. It would be better to die than to hurt my children. I cupped Faatina’s foot in my hand and she stirred lightly and wiggled her toes as I prayed.

It was now five am and soon, Priya and Leeya would be here for morning prayers. As I gasped trying to breathe, I sobbed out my supplications to God, begging for forgiveness and absolution.

At six-thirty, the girls entered as I was praying. Upon seeing me, Priya exclaimed in shock, “What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a vision of hell!”

I moved Faatina’s foot and sat up saying, “I have, I really have.”

Feeling such shame, I couldn’t bring myself to reveal the dream. What’s wrong with me? I scorned myself. Tell her you bastard, tell her!

But I couldn’t. I couldn’t bear to see the look in her or Leeya’s eyes if they knew what I truly was inside. I saw myself as the demon I’d sought to fight and rid myself of. I was that demon. I couldn’t get away from it.

We laboriously finished prayers and went downstairs. Everyone saw my ashen look and was genuinely concerned that I was sick. I told them that I didn’t sleep last night, felt sick to my stomach and asked Priya if she could attend to the baby today while I recovered.

After a half hour of useless prodding on everyone’s part to find out what was bothering me, Priya acquiesced and said she’d look after the baby. After breakfast, I told Mom and Priya that I needed to pray and was going to the mosque.

I spent the day in prayer, begging for redemption from my inner demon and that I felt the only way to protect any future generations of children was not having them. At the end of a day of gut-wrenching prayer and invocation, I made my decision on what I had to do. Although Islam forbids suicide, I doubted my ability to trust myself and decided that I would rather end my life than abuse my children.

When I arrived home, Monaavi saw me, offered her salaams and asked if I was all right. I dismissed her by waving my hand and saying I was just tired. Dinner that night was quiet as everyone’s eyes were on me in loving concern. I picked at my food and held the baby for the last fifteen minutes of the meal and quietly cooed with her.

We said our goodnights early and went upstairs for prayer. When finished, Priya asked me if I was going to be all right with the baby and I replied, “She’ll be fine, don’t worry. She’s no trouble at all.”

Half believing my reply, Priya said tentatively, “Well, all right. If you say so, but if you need any help, come get me.”

“I will,” I answered.

Priya and Leeya kissed me goodnight. I embraced each of them one at a time for what I expected was to be my last taste of love from each of my wives’ lips and gave them each a deep passionate kiss.

Priya and Leeya felt something amiss and looked at each other with concern. Leeya looked at me a little frightened and said, “I love you, Sean. You know I can’t live without you.”

“I know, Baby,” I answered, “I can’t live without you either.”

As Priya was shutting the door, she looked at me with concern and said, “See you in the morning, all right?”

“Sure my Beloved,” I answered quietly, “In the morning.”

Faatina was sitting on the bed playing with her feet. As if on autopilot, I went to her, undressed and changed her diaper and crawled in beside her. I pulled her to me and taking her face in my hands, I gently kissed her on the lips. I said to her, “Daddy loves you and I always will. Grow big and strong, Sweetie and have lots of beautiful babies — just like you.”

I turned out the light and cuddled her to me. She nestled herself against my stomach like she’d done the previous three nights and started sucking her thumb. I palmed her tiny foot in hand for the last time and gently rubbed her toes as she fell off to sleep.

When she’d been asleep for a few minutes, I rose and went to the desk and sat down to write. In my farewell, I explained that my love for each of my little young lovers was undying and that I loved them so much, I’d rather depart this world that inflict any harm on our family. I went on to reveal the contents of my nightmare and that I didn’t trust myself to make certain that my nightmare wouldn’t become a reality.

I thanked my parents, especially my mother for the wisdom and support they had imparted to me and asked them to help Priya raise Faatina to be all she could be. I had tried to live my life and make a difference to some people and that if there was any good in that, let that be my legacy.

I folded the letter and left it on the desk and went to the bathroom. I filled the tub with hot water and taking the razor from the medicine cabinet, sat in the tub. I looked at the bed once more and saw the tiny form under the sheet fast asleep.

Looking at my wrist, I placed the razor and readied to make the slice. I paused for a moment and whispered, “Allah please forgive me for what I’m about to do.”

I had the razor pressed against the vein on my wrist and saw the skin indent from the pressure. Just as I was about to slide the razor against my vein, I heard a voice say, “Sean?”

Startled, I thought I was hearing things and momentarily lifted the razor from my wrist. I listened for a moment and thought that I was hallucinating because all I now heard was silence. I readied the razor again and just as I was about the make the slice I felt something touch my hand and say, “Sean, don’t do this thing.”

Shocked, I dropped the razor on the floor and called out, “Emmy? Is that you?”

“Sean, did you love me?” Emmy said.

Crying openly I pined, “Yes I loved you; more than you’ll ever know. I’m sorry I failed you.”

“You didn’t fail me, Love,” she replied softly. “You gave me a love for all eternity. Do you know why I’m here?”

“Why?” I implored, “Tell me.”

“You’ve won, Sean,” she said calmly.

“How have I won?” I asked through my tears.

“Don’t you see?” she explained. “You’d rather take your life than hurt your child. You’ve made your choice. The evil one had no power over you. What you saw was a deception, a vision of what could happen — not will happen.”

“Why you?” I asked, “How have you come to me?”

“I come,” she replied, “as a guardian angel, a messenger of God. He knew you’d listen to my voice. He’s heard your pleas and knows your torment. You made a vow to God that my death would mean something in your life and that you wanted the blessing He has in store for you. Your demon is real and God has allowed you to be tested as He tested Job to see if you were worthy of His blessings.”

“Why this?” I asked, “Why this torment?”

“Because,” Emmy replied, “you needed to confront your inner demon and decide what was more important to you: the charms of a child or a life of true happiness and blessing.”

“What would have happened if I’d given in to the deception?” I asked.

“Your nightmare,” she replied, “would have become your reality.”

“What now?” I asked, “What will become of me?”

I heard a smile in her voice as she answered, “Go to your child and love her. Raise her in love and watch her grow to a full and complete woman. Allah will bring His blessing into your life soon. She will become your wife and bring an innocent, deep and abiding love to your family beyond compare. Her love is as pure as the driven snow and as innocent as a newborn babe. She will give you what I never ever could.”

“But why, Emmy?” I cried, “Why did you have to die?”

“If we would have married,” she explained, “this blessing and her gift to you would never have been realized. You needed to deal with your inner self in order to be ready to accept and appreciate this wondrous gift Allah has in store for you. Don’t weep for me, Darling for I am at bliss with God. You have a life of trials and hardship ahead raising a large family and loving your wives. Trust in yourself. Your love for your family and those that share that love and you will prevail. A great sorrow will come upon you; but it will be healed by the love from the heart of a child. Be edified in knowing that God hears your pleas and that he who trusts in Him shall have the desires of his heart. Remember the words of Auntie: “…What God has taken from you, He will replace with a much greater blessing…”

“But I love you, Emmy!” I pined.

“I know, Sean,” she replied understandably, “Now go, go to your daughter and never look back. Claim all that God has in store for you with joy and treasure it always. Goodbye, my love until we meet again.”

“Emmy, wait!” I called out, “Wait! Please don’t’ go.”

Silence.

I sat in the new cool tub and wondered if what had just happened was another nightmare or hallucination. I now felt a warm, calm peace and all the pain in my heart: the torment and anguish were gone. I looked again at my daughter’s sleeping form and smiled. I rose from the tub, pulled the plug and dried myself off.

Walking to the bedroom, I saw the folded note on the desk and sighed. Picking it up, I started to lay it down and I thought about telling Mom and Priya of the events that just took place in the morning. I looked at the note for several minutes then felt as if the answer had been placed in my mind. I said to myself, “This is between me and God, and I’ll remember this day in my heart. No one would believe me anyway if I told them that Emmy had saved my life.”

I took a book of matches from the drawer and lit the note. I watched as it burned slowly, the edges curling over into black, burnt carbon as the flame slowly flickered out. I donned a pair of boxers and climbed in next to Faatina. She was lying awake and when I leaned over to check on her she looked me right in the eye. I could see the tiny rows of white teeth as she smiled in the dark. She reached up and touched my chin and gurgled out plain as day, “Da Da.”

I began sobbing as I enfolded her in my arms hugging her to me and said, “Yes, Baby, Da Da’s here. I’ll always be here for you, Darling.”

I kissed her temple as I spooned her to me. She heaved a tiny sigh and molded herself to me. I again enfolded her tiny foot in my palm, she acknowledged by again wiggling her toes. We both fell away to the restful, peaceful sleep only God can give.