Forget About Me Forever

Forget that you ever had a daughter, she snapped, the words falling like a blade, as if she were cutting herself off, my daughter Poppy. Everything was racing toward the edge. I felt sorry for both my little girl and my former husband. We had been the model familylove, understanding, supportuntil it all collapsed in an instant.

Poppy had just turned fifteen, the awkward age, when her father walked out on us for another woman. How could I make sense of that, or accept it? And Poppy slipped down a dark slope, surrounded by shady crowds, suspicious boys, endless drinking. I was lost too. What should I do with the husband who returned? Drive him out or forgive him? If I forgave him, how could I live on, always suspecting his motives? I had no answers.

My new husband, Simon, knew how to love. Wed known each other since school. He courted me beautifully, could astonish and delight. I fell for him completely; no one else ever entered the picture. Simon, and only Simon. My parents approved, saying, Youll never find a better soninlaw. We threw a lavish wedding, the kind you remember for a lifetime.

Then the ordinary days began. Simon always tried to brighten them. One evening I came home from work to find our bed strewn with rose petals. Whats the occasion? I kissed his cheek. Remember, Poppy? The day I took the seat next to you in class and we got to know each other, he laughed. Oh, God, stop making it sound romantic! I brushed him off, yet my heart leapt. He remembered the smallest moments; thats the man I marriedpure gold.

He returned from a business trip with a mountain of face creams. Poppy, Ive been briefed on every jar and scrub tube. Put down the pans and pots. I need a pampered wife, not a kitchen maid, he said, settling me on the sofa beside him. Time passed, and Simon remained tender, caring, always considerate. I was proud of him; Poppy adored him.

We ran a family business that was thriving; we never denied ourselves anything. Life was good, and soon we moved to London, the capital, chasing bigger, more profitable opportunities. We left all our possessions behind and set off to conquer new horizons. Business grew, and we partnered with a savvy businesswoman, Claire, who owned her own firm. I wish Id known how that partnership would end; Id never have turned my head toward her.

Everything was wonderful, and Simon and I decided to expand our family, planning for a second childnaïve, perhaps. One day Poppy came home from school, cautious, and asked, Mum, is Dad really on a work trip? I answered, Of course, why would he be anywhere else? She hesitated, Vicky said she saw him in the supermarket. Maybe shes mistaken. I frowned. Vicky, Poppys close friend, was a frequent guest in our house; she couldnt have mixed him up.

I called Vicky. Hello, Vicky, how are you? Did you see Uncle Simon in the supermarket today? I cant get a hold of him. She replied, Yes, Aunt Martha, I did. He was with a girl, hugging and laughing loudly. Meanwhile Simon was still five days away on his trip.

I decided to wait for the story to unfold. Three days later Simon returned, tired but cheerful. How was the trip? I asked, trying to keep the conversation light. Fine, he answered tersely. I know everything, Simon! There was no trip! Youre lying! I shouted. What makes you think that, Martha? he retorted, defensive. We have witnesses to your blatant lie, I pressed. Martha, why dont you feed your husband a bite on the road and then waste your anger on a joke? he turned the tension into humor.

I wanted it to be a joke, a coincidence, nonsense. Yet the truth sat heavy. I hadnt protected the man I loved, hadnt seen the warning signs. A silence, a tension, a gulf of misunderstanding stretched between us. Poppy sensed the family rift; children always feel when parents drift apart.

I didnt want to interrogate Simon, to dig through his dirty laundry. Let whatever happened happen. He wouldnt abandon us knowing I was pregnant. But the inevitable struck. I was rushed to the hospital by the ambulance and emerged without my baby. A miscarriage, the doctor blamed the stress. It felt as if I were a raw, exposed wire.

Simons hands loosened. He soon left for Claires firm, a quick, reckless departure. Poppy and I were left alone, grieving, the world tilting beneath our feet, life feeling meaningless. If it hadnt been for Poppy, I might have given up entirely. Yet I imagined her suffering alone, a fragile child’s heart shattered. My daughters presence saved me from the abyss. She stayed close, our bond deepening in those bleak days.

Poppys nightly wanderings ceased; she grew quiet, focusing on keeping her mother afloat. We had to relearn how to breathe, to talk to others. Two years later my exhusband, John, reappeared. I could not look at him; he repulsed me. He had inflicted too much pain on both Poppy and me; forgiveness was impossible. I let the wayward husband back into the house, wondering what he might bring. Now only Poppy remained between us. Everything else had slipped away like water through sand.

We stood in silence, strangers to each other. Hows life treating you, Martha? Simon asked, oddly. And whats it to you now? Why bring up the past? Miss you? I replied with a dry edge. Is Poppy at home? He seemed to seek support through our daughter. Poppy reluctantly emerged, folded her arms, and stared at her father with contempt. Poppy, darling, forgive me, please! Simon pleaded, looking pitiful. Forget you ever had a daughter! Poppy retorted, retreating to her room. Repeat that? I mocked John. Simon left.

Friends whispered that a business rival had robbed Simon of his company, leaving him penniless, which is why he kept showing up, hoping for forgiveness. Three years passed. Poppy attended university; I worked at a large corporation. Our lives were calm, free of passion or turmoilsmooth sailing. I dreamed again, planning to marry Poppy off to a good man and look forward to retirement. I thought of buying a kitten or a puppy and caring for it. What else did I need for happiness? I was thirtyseven then.

Fortune finally turned. Delegations from Turkey often visited our firm. One delegate, Fatih, showered me with unmistakable attentioncompliments, gifts, even a sprig of fresh rosemary placed on my desk. I was drawn to this charismatic Turk, refined and strikingly handsome. We soon married. Fatih won over my parents; at first they were shocked by a foreign soninlaw, but his Turkish dishes and witty jokes won them over, and they gave their blessing.

My daughters approval mattered most. I was about to move to his homeland. Poppy, seeing her mother radiant and in love, gave her consent. Mum and Fatih, may you both be forever happy! In time, Poppy forgave the errant father and even invited him to her wedding. The story closed, leaving the scars behind but also a glimmer of redemption.