John Tarnum was standing in front of the plexiglass, hands firmly pressed against it, as his eyes stared dead center on the little girl swaddled up in a bassinet among a dozen others. He smiled and exhaled, blinking, trying to remind himself to breath now and again. He backed away from the glass and felt someone tap him on the shoulder, which caught his attention. He turned, coming face to face with a nurse standing there, holding a clipboard, who merely smiled at him.
"Is she everything you thought she'd be?" the nurse asked. "She's...perfect. Everything's perfect," John said, "uh, do I have to...?" "Oh, right," the nurse said, handing him the clipboard and a pen, "these need to be filled out. And we need a name for her." John looked back towards the nursery, then chewed his lip momentarily before he nodded and jotted a name down on the paper. He filled everything else out, then handed the clipboard back to the nurse, who smiled when she looked at it. "That's lovely," she said, "Congratulations." "Thank you," John said. Now was the time to get his act together. Stop drinking. Stop partying. He and his girlfriend needed to finally grow up and be the adults that this little girl needed them to be. John made a promise to himself, and his new daughter, right then and there...no matter what, he'd always be there for her. And he never broke that promise. *** John was sitting at a picnic table in a park, watching his daughter try and chase the other kids but to no avail. Lauren seated herself next to John and handed him his coffee, which he thanked her for before sipping it. Lauren tossed her dark chocolate brown hair and sighed as she watched with John, before lowering her voice to a near whisper and leaning towards him. "She looks miserable," Lauren said. "Of course she looks miserable," he said, "all she wants to do is run with the other kids and she can't even do that. These fucking crutches make it hard for her to play with anyone." "....what do we do?" "How the hell should I know?" John asked, shrugging, "we just...we love her and tell her that none of this matters and all that matters is how much we love her, I guess?" Lauren smiled briefly before wiping at her eyes, feeling John rubbing her back. "...i feel so guilty," she whispered, almost crying, "like...i did this to her." "You had no way of knowing that what you were taking would endanger her in the womb," John replied, "these things just happen. She's great, disabled or not, it doesn't matter. And you didn't do this to her. This wasn't your fault. We were young and stupid, we had no way of knowing." Lauren nodded, taking in his words, but never once acknowledging them. No matter what John might tell her, she'd never buy it. As her eyes wandered back up to watch their daughter, finally sitting in a sandbox with some other girls and playing with dolls, she felt like maybe John was right in the sense that things would be fine. They adored their daughter, and no matter what, that was all that really mattered. Lauren leaned over and buried her face in John's neck, making him blush as he stroked her hair and simply watched his daughter play. Just a few short years ago, when John was in his early twenties, he never could've pictured being what his father had once called a "family man". He never pictured being married, and especially never pictured having a child, a daughter especially, and now...god, now he didn't know how he'd ever lived without them. Without this lifestyle. He didn't realize just how badly he needed this level of stability, and how his wife and daughter probably saved him from drinking himself to death. He was grateful for that, definitely, but he was even more grateful simply for being given a chance to love them to begin with. Sure, his daughter couldn't walk without crutches, but he didn't give two shits about that. He'd defend her to the death, and if anything, this only made her even cooler, because she wasn't like everyone else. Just like her mother. *** "What is it, what is it?!" she shouted excitedly, tearing at the gift wrapping as John and Lauren watched around the table, laughing at her unbridled joy. Finally she wrenched the gift from its packaging and screamed again, squeezing it to her chest, thanking them repeatedly. "I hope that's what you wanted, cause I'm no good at picking this stuff out," John said. "It is! It is! Thank you!" she said loudly, so unbelievably happy. "I'm glad," John said, pushing forward on the table towards her another package, adding, "we got you some accessories and clothes and stuff to go with it. Hopefully you like this stuff, but if not, we can always return it for something else." It was their daughters 11th birthday, and it was spent at home, except for dinner, when they went to her favorite pizza place. That night, after Lauren had passed out on the couch watching an old western on TV, John walked to his daughters bedroom and saw her lying in bed, brushing her dolls hair. He entered and sat on the side of the bed, watching her. "...you have a good birthday?" he asked. "Mhm," she said, nodding, "I just...I wish I had friends who'd come." "I know honey, I'm sorry," John said. "You and mom are my best friends, and that's cool, cause you guys are cool, but I wish I had friends my age too. They all just look at me weird cause of my crutches," she said, "sometimes it feels like everyone at school is making fun of me at the same time, like I'm some big secret joke they all share." John felt his heart tear a little bit, but he reached out and stroked her cheek gently, making her smile. "Happy birthday honey," he said softly, leaning in and kissing her between the eyes. She laid down and snuggled up under the blankets, so he could tuck her in. She squeezed her doll to her chest and as he exited, he stopped when she called after him and looked back at her, finger on the lightswitch. "I love you dad," she said. "Love you too kiddo," he said. With that, he flicked the light out and shut the door, leaving it only open a smidgeon so the hallway light could creep in, knowing she was still somewhat scared of the dark. John walked back to the living room and woke Lauren up, then helped her get to the bedroom. Once they were both in bed, she laid her head on his chest and, still half asleep, muttered, "she's so me." "What do you mean?" John asked. "nobody ever came to my birthdays either," Lauren said, but before she could further elaborate, she too passed out. *** Lauren Knopf met John Tarnum when they were in their early twenties. She was a guest at a party he worked at, and she found his clown persona both hilarious and ripe for razzing, which she definitely took advantage of. After the party, she wrote her number down on his hand, and said they should go drinking sometime. Soon enough, they were. In fact, their drinking got so out of hand that he often invited her to the parties he'd work, and have her bring a cooler with her so they could drink when they had a chance. But Lauren went further than drinking, doing things John would never be interested in, and it worried him. She was careful. She was never careless, but still, her behavior worried him. That was why, when she told him she was pregnant, he was secretly thrilled, because if nothing else, this would curb her drug usage. Unfortunately for John, the opposite wound up being true. Not only did she continue to do whatever she wanted - albeit on a somewhat lower scale - but also became addicted to the pain medication the hospital had given her for her pregnancy. However, once their daughter was born, John sat with her in the hospital room and told her they had to stop, and, much to his surprise, she agreed. Perhaps it's the actual act of having a child now, or perhaps it was simply her realizing she couldn't go on like this, but whatever the reasoning, Lauren agreed to quit. John helped her into a program, and even attended with her now and then for support, and eventually she not only wasn't using drugs, but she wasn't even drinking anymore, something John never thought he'd see her give up. That's why, when he came home from work one night to find Lauren and their daughter missing, along with her car, he was perplexed. The only thing he could find missing - aside from the car and his family - was a bottle of pain pills. John debated calling the police, but eventually relented and in fact did phone them up. When they found her, however, he wish he'd never asked for help. The thing about the police finding your family, and not finding them on your own, is that they often won't let you see the aftermath, and John needed to see the aftermath. The car had plowed into the side of a building downtown, an old abandoned tool store, and when John pulled up and ran towards the accident, the cops held him back, and no matter how much he screamed and kicked and cried, they wouldn't let him closer. For hours he sat in a hospital waiting room, trying to figure out what he would do if...if....god he couldn't even finish that thought. After a while, a female cop approached and handed him a ziplock bag with a piece of paper inside it, saying she thought he should have it. She didn't give her name, or any other reasoning, before she left as abruptly as she'd arrived. John opened the bag and pulled the paper out, reading it, his insides tearing themselves apart. "I love you so much. But I hate myself. I hate myself, and by extension, I hate her, because she IS me, John. That's why I'm doing this. Removing us from the world. I'm so sorry, but I'm an awful person, and I don't deserve to be here. I'm so sorry to take her away from you. I'm so so sorry that I couldn't be what you needed me to be. Just like I could never be what my parents needed me to be. I love you. Please don't hate me. Love, Lauren." And John didn't hate her. When they finally came out and told him Lauren was gone, he doubled over on the floor and screamed. Two nurses helped console him, but he was damn near inconsolable. Other people in the waiting room watched, the looks of sheer, abject sadness on their faces at seeing this man fall apart in public. And still, he didn't hate her. He understood how she felt, why she felt the way she felt, he'd never hate her for her problems. Her problems were what he fell in love with. He loved how imperfect she was. He just wished he had told her that more often. *** John, sitting in the diner that morning with Lilian and Alexis, sipped his coffee and spooned scrambled eggs into his mouth. "All I'm saying is that, even if, by some act of god, I was hired by some rich family for their kids party, I'd find some way to get myself involved with that family. I'd fuck the dad or...I don't know, find some way to become part of that family. I don't want a sugar daddy. I want a sugar family," Alexis said, making John chuckle. "Well, I think you're looking at this all wrong. Clearly, the thing to do would be to parlay it into working for every other rich family as well. Make it so that you're the best, and thus, only performer worth hiring. Endear yourself to the local rich population, and then soon enough they invite you to their country club." "Great, yeah, I can't wait to be racist and wear poodle skirts," Alexis said, making John laugh loudly now. "I just meant that, by that point, you'll have become such a fixture within the community, someone will meet you, fall for you and marry you, and boom, now you're rich, and all without being a homewrecker," Lilian said, cutting her pancakes into pieces. "But I wanna be a homewrecker!" Alexis said, "that's the dream!" John wiped his mouth on his napkin, finished his coffee and sighed. "Well," he said, pulling his jacket on, "engaging as this discussion is, I have something to do." "You working today?" Lilian asked. "Kind of," John said, standing up from the booth and wishing them a good day before leaving. He walked to the parking lot, got into his car and drove to his trailer, where he changed into his clown costume and then drove towards the hospital. He parked in their lot, entered through the back entrance, and was greeted by everyone who worked there. They'd come to know him over the years, and were always happy to see his Stinko persona. He walked down the halls, stopping in a few rooms for sick kids and old people, brightening their day, before finally stopping at a room on the 4th floor. He walked into the room and the woman lying in the bed looked up from her book and squealed in joy at seeing him. John walked in, honking his nose at her, making her giggle. John sat down on the bed as she sat up and wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him tightly. John, almost on the verge of tears, patted her on the back and squeezed her back, never wanting to let her go again. "Daddy," she whispered. "I'm here cupcake," he said, "I'm here." His daughter had somehow survived the collision, but now she not only was on crutches, but she had suffered fairly severe brain damage as a result of her mothers decision. John didn't care though. She was alive. She was here. She was what he had left, and he loved her to the ends of the earth. "How are you feeling today?" he asked, looking her in the eyes. "I'm okay," she managed to say, slurring her speech, "read to me?" She handed him the picture book she'd been looking at, and he smiled and nodded, taking the book from her. He loved reading to her, and he'd never pass up the opportunity. He opened the book and noticed the inscription on the inside, the one she'd written herself when she was only 7 years old, her words forever scribbled in that little girl handwriting. "This book belongs to: Star Tarnum." Sure, it was a sort of hippy name, but he didn't care. She didn't care. Lauren hadn't cared. She was their star. And now, to John, she was his northern star, always guiding him back home, back to her. He'd experienced immense loss, and from that, he'd learned to be truly funny, because nothing makes you realize the absurdity of life like intense grief. But more than anything else, he was simply thrilled she was still here, in any way, shape or form. Life was kinda funny that way.
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A young woman named Lilian Phillips, who plays a princess at birthday parties, befriends a little girl who had a child die at her own birthday party. Archives
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