Unwanted: A Tale of Unfulfilled Longing

Ive got to tell you about Ellies mess, and I swear it felt like a scene straight out of a gloomy British drama.

She only found out her dad was still alive when she fell seriously ill. Shed been feeling off for ages, even went to the school nurse who sent her off to a neurologist. Ellie begged Mum to get an appointment, but Mum forgot and spent weeks beating herself up, wondering how different things might have been if theyd known sooner.

Is he alive? Ellie asked, halfheartedly.

Mum was staring at her own socks, a hole glaring on the big toe.

Alive, she mumbled. Sorry.

Ellie never pressed much about her birth father. She didnt remember him, just knew he existed. From the age of two, her stepdad, Henry, had raised her and eventually adopted her. When she turned thirteen their relationship cracked she felt he demanded too much, scolded her constantly and never let her breathe. Thats when she started begging Mum for any clue a name, an address, a phone number. Mum stayed stonecold, probably whispering with Henry about whether to spill the beans. No matter how much she fought with Henry, Ellie was convinced hed nudged Mum into confessing.

He died, Mum finally said. Got killed in the mountains.

Strangely, Ellie swallowed that without demanding proof or trying to trace any relatives. She never found out more.

I called him, Mum went on. Hes up for a test. If it works, theyll do a bonemarrow transplant and youll be fine.

In that instant Ellie realised nothing would ever be fine again. Her mum had lied, her dad had vanished, Henry had bailed, saying you cant force love. Who was she good for now? Maybe nature was just getting rid of the unnecessary.

I dont want this! Ellie shouted. No operation, I hate you all, I dont want to live!

Mum tried to hug her, but Ellie ripped away and bolted to her room.

The sky blended with a low hanging fog, making the horizon impossible to spot. Ellie loved her windows looking out onto the wasteland; Mum had sighed when they first moved in, complaining how the other windows faced the back garden, which Ellie found boring. From her room she could watch the sunset, while the garden was just kids and old ladies. But today there was no sunset the world was drenched in a grey haze that refused to lift even in that thin space between day and night. Everything dimmed and smeared, just like Ellies whole life.

She heard footsteps and thought Mum was coming to apologise, but it was Henry. He lingered at the doorway, as if fearing shed chase him out.

Dont be angry with Mum. She did what she thought was best.

The best, huh! Would you have liked it if theyd buried you like that?

She wrote to him, Henry said. Said you wanted to meet. He never answered. Mum thought thatd be better.

Ellie bit her lip. He never answered, and now that hes dying he finally does.

Henry shuffled out, waiting for no reply, and headed to the kitchen.

Ellie only went to Mum an hour later. Shed decided everything in her head already, but gave everyone a chance to cool off.

Mums bedroom smelled of vanilla perfume, the kind that drowns out everything else. Still, Ellie could pick up the other scents too the powdery makeup Mum smears on her face, the strawberry hand cream, the musty smell of library books. Mum loved borrowing from the local library; she thought it was a bit posh. The lamp was off, her silhouette merging with the armchair, a long robe covering her white legs. Mum never liked fake tanned skin and spent the whole winter dreaming of summer sun.

Fine, Ellie said. Let him do his test.

She learned her dad was actually in the hospital. She got worse, even though the doctor kept saying there was still time. There wasnt any. She was fading, almost slipping out of existence.

She lay on the bed, back to the wall, picking at a flaking patch of paint with her nail. The cracks looked like her own fractures, making her feel unreal. She shoved the paint under her nail, blood oozed, as if that could prove she was still alive. The compressed mattress, the nurses voices in the corridor, the sterile hospital smell all felt like a dream that wouldnt end.

Before she even opened her eyes, she caught a familiar scent. She inhaled deeply, the mix of tobacco and oil, and forced herself to breathe out.

A man in a white coat stood at her bedside, his cheeks weathered, eyebrows thick, eyes brown and wide, just like Ellies.

Hello, daughter, he said, voice low and oddly familiar.

Hi, Ellie croaked, coughing, then repeated, Hi.

The dad shed imagined was nothing like this. He had a wife and three sons, worked as a mechanic fixing trolleybuses something Ellied never even heard of. She told him she wanted to become a dog trainer, but Mum was against it, so shed study veterinary science first, then still chase the trainer gig.

Dogs are better than people, he said matteroffactly.

The operation went well. Ellie expected her dad to drop by or at least call, but he never showed. Mum and Henry turned up in turns every other day: Mum left the vanilla scent and new books, never noticing that Ellie hadnt opened the old ones. Henry just sat there, spouting nonsense even while Ellie stared at the wall.

On the day they were to discharge her, Ellie still waited for her dad. She believed hed turn up. While waiting for the doctor, she got up, looked at the halfopen window smeared with childish handprints, stepped out, breathed the cold, damp air, felt the floor sway beneath her like a boat on a swift river. The ward was empty, so she flung the window wide. A gust slammed into her face, hit with the smell of wet earth, freshly turned soil, dusty tarmac. Cars roared past, scattering flocks of sparrows. The bright blue of the spring sky made her eyes sting.

She thought of her dad his rough, oilstained hands, thinning hair slicked to the side to hide the balding patch, the way he spent every day fixing trolleybuses. Now whenever she saw those metal giants with their quirky little horns, shed think of him. Of the lines on his face, the crease between his brows, the things hed never say.

Downstairs Henry and Mum were clinging to each other like a stormtossed ship, their legs failing just as Ellies had after months of illness. They were about to leave when the door burst open, sunshine and a whiff of river water drifting in. Her dad stood there in a work jacket, holding the door. In his hand was a small bunch of tulips. Ellie wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand, smiled, and stepped forward.