On the drive back home with a sleepy and tired little girl I started to think that maybe things won’t be so bad judging by the way Mel reacted to Charlotte and seeing me again. I won’t need to be afraid when Charlie spends time with her father and his family. I expected her to be less understanding and show a tad more animosity towards me. That’s Melissa for you though, always trying to make everyone around her happy no matter what.
Let’s hope his parents are just as nice to me.
On Monday I’m sitting at my desk at work eating my boring ham and cheese sandwich for lunch when I log onto my bank account to pay some bills. I check and double check the balance expecting to see one figure, almost falling off my chair when my account holds a whole lot more than it should, and I mean a whole lot more.
I chuckle because I don’t believe it then close my eyes thinking I’m seeing things and that it has to be a mistake. I reopen them only to be met with the same amount of an extra two million dollars sitting in there. Shit. It could have only come from one place and I am going to kill him.
“Son of a bitch,” I yell out while banging my palm beside my keyboard.
“Alannah, is everything okay?” John calls out from his office.
“Yes, fine. Sorry, I was just surprised by something,” I call back.
What is this? Who the hell does he think he is? Why on earth would he even assume that it’s okay to do this? I don’t want nor need his money. What is he playing at here? I am so angry. He’s managed to piss me off without even being here. I know if I call him we’re going to get into an argument so I do the next best thing and send him an email. Texting him would take too long and I’m too mad, needing to bang against the keyboard.
————
To: Nicholas Moore
Subject: Bank Account
Mr Moore,
There seems to be a gross error with my bank account this morning.
I seem to have an additional $2,000,000.00 which should not be there.
Please tell me that this was not your doing. Explain yourself.
I don’t want it. Take it back.
————
I hit send and sit back to wait on his reply which comes through not one minute later.
————
To: Alannah Stewart
Subject: Bank Account
Alannah,
Yes I placed those funds into your account as back payment of child support which I believe I owed you. My lawyer assured me that the sum of half a million dollars for each year of Charlotte’s life was more than sufficient.
Please accept it. It is only fair seeing as you have carried the burden of raising her on your own up until now.
————
Fair?
Is he freaking crazy? How does he figure basically paying me for looking after my daughter is fair in any sense of the word? He is supposed to be a smart man but when he pulls shit like this it makes me wonder.
————
To: Nicholas Moore
Subject: Bank Account
I don’t want your money Nicholas, I never have. I don’t want anything from you.
What the hell am I supposed to do with that much money?
Take it back or I’ll just give it all away.
I don’t believe you know the meaning of the word fair.
————
To: Alannah Stewart
Subject: Bank Account
Don’t be ridiculous.
You could stop working and stay home to be with Charlotte more if you wanted.
If you don’t want to use it fine, at least put it aside for my daughter. I’m only trying to help and do what’s right.
And believe me I know that I have been unfair.
————
Ridiculous? I’ll show him ridiculous. If he was standing before me right this instance I would gladly pick up my metal letter opener and stick it in him without hesitation. I can’t believe the audacity of him. If it was possible, steam would be coming out of my ears. I’m not sure if I’m more insulted or plain enraged. I don’t bother replying back to him again, there’s no point, I’m not going to get anywhere with him and it will only make me more furious.
Stubborn ass that he is.
Child support?
I did perfectly fine without a cent from him all this time. If he’s feeling guilty and trying to ease his conscience that’s not my problem.
I need to calm down before I break something.
I dump the remainder of my lunch in the bin having lost my appetite and step out of the office hoping a walk and some fresh air will help me decide how to deal with this. He has to understand he can’t come barging back into my life again and do whatever he wants. I will not allow him to control any aspect of my life again and that includes my money. I may come off as a bitch or too proud but I don’t feel comfortable taking it. If he wants it put aside for his daughter that’s fine but he can place it in a trust account or something, not in mine. The nerve of that man. Calm down Alannah, let it go for now you need to finish the day off.
I wake up with a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach on Thursday. I have taken the day off work as I have Charlotte’s appointment with the cardiologist at the hospital at eleven. The anxiety and worry wouldn’t allow me to sleep last night. I was running all sorts of what if scenarios in my mind. I have never been so afraid to go to see a doctor before.
We take our time getting up. Charlie got up first and came to snuggle with me in my bed, dozing off again for a further half an hour. I kept watching her, her face and hair, her eyelashes and shape of her chin, the colour of her tiny lips. I know each and every feature of her, what she has gotten from me and those passed on from her father. I slowly lift her hand placing our palms together and measure it against my own. Hers is so small, innocent and soft whereas mine is larger and world weary. What will these hands become one day? Will they hold and nurture or teach or create. I only want her happy, if she’s happy and loved then there’s not much more I can ask for.
I haven’t prayed in a long time but please God if you’re up there and listening, don’t let my daughter be ill. I can’t contemplate the thought of her having a condition that may cause her serious problems, or that I may lose her. She has been the only thing that has kept me going for so long. I need to keep positive. This is just routine and she’ll be fine. She will be. I won’t accept any other outcome.
Arriving at the hospital we take the elevator up to the third floor, I hold Charlie’s hand as we walk down the sterile corridor towards the doctor’s office. He was expecting us and tells us to come on in. His office walls are covered in posters and pictures of the human body and the heart, there are so many diagrams showing all the inner workings of that organ it makes me feel uneasy. Dr Gibson is in his mid-fifty’s and supposed to be the best in his field. He looks as if he keeps in shape and still has all his blonde hair which has begun to grey around his temples. He has kind green eyes which say you can trust me.