Chap 2: What’s a hungry man, Daddy?

Sam looked at his wife, his once petite and beautiful Lily. Lily who once had a slender, well-rounded body but now looked like a bag of bones. Her forehead was strained with lines caused by constant worry. Her cheeks were hollow and sunken. The only feature that remained the same was her seawater green-colored eyes; but they were now filled with incredible pain instead of the twinkling of mischief. Her eyes used to have so much joy, purity and innocence… pure, like the flower she was named after – Lily. Her beautiful fiery red hair was now dull, lank and limp. ‘God! All of us must look like that!’ Sam thought despairingly as he turned his gaze to his under-nourished little son.

Sam stumbled to his wife, “Darling, I’m so sorry I can’t follow you! It kills me every time I see you walk through that door. Oh Lord! I’m so sorry!” ‘Oh how many times have I told her that’, thought Sam miserably. His wife looked at him and appeared to be flippant.

“Hey, We know the rules, right? The Mongrels won’t allow any men to be on the streets, only the women. So, I’ve got to be the breadwinner now, so what? Anyway, you know the Mongrels will kill you if they set eyes on you. They have more ‘compassion’ for the women. They let us go on with our jobs and bring back food supplies. Only sometimes… occasionally… not all the time… when we’re not lucky, they might… they might…” Lily started to sob, as her green eyes filled with tears and she abruptly turned towards the door.

“Lily! Don’t go! Don’t let them! Don’t let them do it to you! Don’t do it to yourself!” cried Sam as he tried to stop her. He knew what those wretched Mongrels did to his wife.

She turned around and with a desperate whisper, she replied, “I must! Look at you and Timmy, half-starved! Timmy… he’s such a good little boy. He falls asleep hungry every night. I can hear his stomach growling. But not once, not even once I’ve heard him complain. Do you think I want to leave both of you to wander the streets? I can’t bear it but I must!”

“For once darling, listen to me. Please. I’ll figure out a way to find food. Let me go. I’ll… I’d…,” Sam pleaded.

“No, YOU listen to me. We go through this lengthy, painful discussion every, single day. And you’re still not getting it. We’re living in horrid times. Timmy’s only six and he’s so much stronger than you. Can you be strong, Sam? Can you be strong for both of us? I can’t bear to lose you. I need you. I need you to take care of Timmy. I need you to be home when I get back. I cannot risk having you go out and not return. Do you understand? Can you please at least TRY to understand me?!?!?” Then she walked away in a huff.

Sam’s eyes filled with tears and his soul cried in mental anguish for his wife.

“Daddy! Don’t cry, daddy! Why are you crying?” sobbed little Timmy as he wrapped his scrawny little arms around his father’s neck. “Daddy, don’t cry! Don’t worry, Daddy. Mummy will be back. Like she always does. Look, I drew this especially for you.” Proudly, Timmy displayed a crayon drawing of a family holding hands in a fun, happy place that looks like a playground.

Sam hung his head down in shame. He was supposed to be the head of the family. What kind of a father and husband was he? He should be out helping his wife and he should be braver for his son’s benefit but no, he had to be bawling like a 2-year old baby! Sam slowly composed himself and put a grateful hand on his son’s shoulder. “Never mind, Timmy! I’m all right. Thanks, son. The drawing is beautiful.” Sam murmured as he held the boy closer and rocked him slowly to sleep.

Later he looked at the boy’s face as he was sleeping. It looked so at peace and it radiated such innocent beauty. ‘Dear son, why did we bring you into such suffering? Why? Damn those Mongrels! Damn them to hell for killing the peaceful freedom that was to be yours!' Sam kissed his son’s sleeping head and leaned back on the bare wall…