The Daughter

Tom, weve got a girl, £3,500 worth of joy! Emily shouted into the phone.

I was standing outside the maternity ward of StMarys Hospital, waving at my wife, who cradled the newborn in her arms.

Its a daughter. Im a dad! Emily, werent we promised a boy?!

Silence lingered on the line before my wife whispered,

Must be a mixup

I turned and walked past the ecstatic fathers, chalking heartshaped messages on the pavement and letting helium balloons drift skyward, past polished cars and clusters of relatives milling around them.

All my life Id dreamed of a sonan heir, a continuation of the family line. While Emily waddled around pregnant, Id been sketching our future: us kicking a ball in the garden, us out on a fishing trip, mens banter over a big catch wed bring home for mum, then evenings gathered around the table swapping stories, my son by my side, my pride.

Emily had struggled to conceive; wed travelled for scans, even to a renowned specialistpractically a scientific celebrity. Only after five long years did she finally tell me the good news.

Tom, you hear that?

I heard a voice behind me and turned: it was Pasha, my university mate.

How many winters have passed, eh?

Yeah, Ive just come to my mums; shes a bit under the weather and needs a hand. Shes alone now; my dads been gone for about five years. How about you?

Just left the hospital; my wife gave birth to a daughter.

Congratulations! Why arent you thrilled?

He smiled weakly.

Oh

He glanced around, spotted a café a few doors away, and invited me in for a chat.

So a boy was on the agenda? We all wait for lads, heirsnothing unusual. I, too, used to picture myself as a father of a son, only to end up with a daughter.

By the way, how are your folks? Did they come with you?

Pasha lowered his eyes, fell silent, then stared at me with a look that seemed to hold the whole universes melancholy.

Im on my own, no family left. Tom, this isnt the right moment for me, youre in a celebration.

Whats happened?

An accident I dont want to talk about it. Ive been alone a year, thinking of moving back with my mum for good, finding work, fixing up my flat.

We lingered over memories of student days, mutual acquaintances, future plans. I gave him my number, telling him he could call any hour.

The next morning I raced to the maternity windows with a massive bouquet of Emilys favourite peonies and a bunch of balloons slung over my shoulder.

Emily!

I shouted when I heard her familiar voice on the line.

Forgive me! Im over the moon about our longawaited little one! Does she look like anyone?

Like you, Tomabsolutely you!

Really? I was a mess yesterday

No need to explain, I get it

My wife cut me off.

Tom, shes a healthy, calm girl, eats, sleeps, and even smiles in her sleep. Well be discharged soon; youll see for yourself.

P.S. We never had any more children; the birth was tough and left lasting effects on her health. Twenty years later our daughter, now a clever and beautiful woman, is the pride of our lives, and Pasha became her godfather. Ill always be grateful for that conversation; it opened my eyes and, most importantly, taught me to cherish and love everyone who stands by me now.