IF TIME IS ALL I HAVE
By: Dora Achieng Okeyo
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©2012 Dora Achieng Okeyo
ETHAN
Hebrew: Strong, firm.
Names scar a person for life. He looked at the time and sighed. He could sigh five times an hour, he had done the Math. This was meant to be a new dawn, but it felt more like dusk. He could smell the anger and pain flow through his veins and dig into his marrow. He lived because of the anger. He lived for the pain, and there was no turning back. He lit the cigarette and let out a few clouds of smoke. He was like the cloud of smoke-he was from somewhere, could be seen for a few seconds and then vanish never to be found. They always knew him as a memory. Some called him, others simply walked past him arms folded across their chests for fear of being contaminated. He did not care for this was a new semester. He had new goals that would not be achieved, and new friends who would loathe him just as much as he did them. He watched the bare legs walk past him and took in their giggles. He heard the deep voices utter some remarks and put out the cigarette butt that was left.
He walked into campus a minute later in strides often stopping to say hello to a few friends.
“What’s good this weekend Ethan?”
“Party at my place, be sure to tell a friend of a friend!”
“Cool, nice seeing you man!”
“It’s nice to be seen, take care!”
He had his lines and his invitation was out already. Ethan had learned that nothing produces more results like word of mouth. He didn’t need flyers as long as he had friends who had friends. He walked into his lecture ten minutes late and secured the front seat. He had four classes that he did not like: Operations Management, Introduction to Political Science, Geopolitics in Africa and Spanish 2. He loved the first two and slept to the last two. He tweeted, texted, and liked stuff online while in the Spanish class. If there was one thing he loved about his classes was the floor. The tiles were symmetrical with intervals of cream tiles every four steps. He loved the last tile-always located at the far end, near the projector cabinet-for it was only half a square. It was always cut off such that it was the only triangle in the room. He looked at his watch thrice in a span of ten minutes. The lecture ended early because it was an introductory class. He took his course outline and folded it then slid it into the back of his jean pocket. As he made his way to the school cafeteria his phone buzzed and he pulled the gadget out before snickering. It was a pause, more like a thought…then he clicked and switched it off. He would see her in the evening. He wanted the agony to feed on him till evening. He made his way to the school cafeteria and secured a seat at a table with his friends. These were the people who would loathe him in less than two weeks but he could not stay away from them. “So, Ethan, what is this we hear about a party?”
“There’s always a party, depends on what you hear though.”
“Word is you are throwing a party this weekend at your place.”
“That’s the word.”
“So, what’s good? At what time does it start?”
“Party starts at noon, ends at midnight. I’m doing a twelve to twelve party this year-enough of the six to six, come have fun and be sure to tell a friend of a friend.”
“There’s enough booze?”
“There’s enough booze for the whole of Kenya, so are you guys in or what?”
“Sure, Dude you have started this year with a bang!”
“Well, a bang is a bang-what counts is how loud it is and how many it reaches out to. Thinking of which, you guys seen Lisa this semester?”
“What Man, no way-you guys are still on? What’s up with her? She’s got you Man.”
“Shut up Gordy, she is a good friend, now are we having lunch or what?”
He stayed on campus till six in the evening before heading for home. He drove into their home as the clock turned eight. The house was bright-yellow lights filled each room-and it mirrored a hall. He often stared at that house and thought of what blueprints he could produce. He could never explain just how good he was at breaking down structures. All it took was one look at a building and he could break it down in planes, angles and lines. He knew he had the touch-he just wished he believed it and fought for it.
“You are late Ethan, I have been calling you and seems like I can’t get through, are you okay?”
“I am fine, Mom, what’s the emergency?”
“Your Father wanted to see you.”
“So, that’s the emergency? Can I get something to eat first?”
“How was school? You have two semesters to your graduation and I am so proud of you Ethan, just do your best.”
“It’s okay Mom. Can I eat please?” He watched the woman look down then head for the living room. She had lost weight and her eyes sore. He could tell that she had been crying-but he had enough to worry about. The liar was looking for him, for reasons he could not explain. It was always the same with parents-they made excuses for each other even when it was clear that someone was to be blamed. He watched the plate of food rotate in the microwave and hummed a few lines of a song. He had only one semester to graduate-that was one of those things he kept to himself. He left the kitchen later with a plate of beef stew and rice and settled on the sofa three paces away from her.
“What did he want?”
“He said he wanted to talk to you and clear things up.”
“Why were you crying Mom?”
“I wasn’t crying Ethan. I just get tired from work and with the new branch being set up in Uganda; it gets too hectic for me.”
“You started that company and did all the duties for close to a year before it picked up and you were not tired then, stop lying.”
“You always make things hard Ethan, must you always be right?”
“Must you always defend him?”
“He’s your Father!”
“He’s never acted like one, stop defending him, at least for my sake.”
“You will regret this some time when you are all grown.”
“I want to regret it Mom. He’s not good enough to be my Father.”
“Ethan…”
“He left when I was what…six? And now that you have done good, made it big and famous, he wants in and you let him? He may be your friend, but he’s not my Father. I hate the fact that he makes you cry just thinking about how he left us. So where is his rich wife, uh? Where is the thing he left you for? Mom, cut me some slack, as far as I am concerned I got you and that’s enough-I want nothing to do with him, respect that if you can. Besides, I am having a party this weekend, from twelve to twelve, hope that’s cool.”
“We need to talk about this Ethan.”
“We already settled it Mom, haven’t you been listening? I am tired.”
“You are just like him, firm in your decisions…it’s no wonder I named you Ethan, do you know why?”
Ethan stopped if only to look at his Mom, then he took the empty plate to the kitchen. He had lived eighteen years apart from his Father. In those eighteen years he had learned to make his own decisions. He had his uncle Gilbert who always took care of him. His Mom was going through the channels as though she was reading a magazine. He stopped at the edge of the stairs and called out to her, she turned to look at him, her eyes sore, but bright-they bore through him.
“You named me Ethan, after him right?”
“Yes, yes…I guess I did.”
“Funny for a name that means strength and firmness he never did find the strength to stay.” He turned and headed for the stairs his earphones plugged in his ears. Her warm voice resonated behind him, ‘goodnight.’
He cranked up the volume just in time for he did not hear her say, ‘I love you Ethan.”
Names scar.
REBECCA
Hebrew: To bind
She woke up at noon and run a bath. There were some things she never did understand, but she hoped she could some day. She wanted to hear him say those words so bad that she constantly lived for them. She walked into the kitchen and lit the stove then set some water to boil. He had promised he would get some gas, but that was a year ago. She had hoped he would actually invest in some kitchen appliances but that too was a year ago.
The cold water stung her back as she thought of him. He was bold, handsome and a charmer. He would make her smile with just one word. He had this sense of fashion that no man ever had. It was more like he lived for his clothes. How his trouser looked mattered more to him than what he said. He would take her out to dinner at the end of the month. They would be celebrating their three year anniversary-as a couple. She was still looking for jobs and whatever she got, she invested in the house. The sunny curtains brightened the room, so did the carpet on the floor. She walked out of the bathroom and made for the bedroom then reached for her towel. Once it was wrapped around her, she walked back to the kitchen and poured some leaves into the water and walked back to the bedroom. He had said he would pay the rent by that evening. Her phone rang and she reached for it hoping it was an employer looking to hire her. The caller ID was not revealed and her heart leaped if only for a second. “Hello…who is calling?”
“Is he there?”
“Who?”
“How stupid can you be to stay with my husband? And you have the guts to ask me ‘who’ like you have no clue who I am talking of. Jobert-that’s who! So is he there or what?”
“How did you get this number?”
“His phone, where else would I get it. Listen, I will save you the shame! Leave my husband alone, what is wrong with you cheap young girls thinking you can take someone’s husband? Look for someone your own age woman and let me not get a hold of you, because I swear I will shred you to pieces with my bare hands, he has three children and a wife, he has responsibilities aren’t you ashamed of yourself, what would you do if your Father was cheating on your mother with some child? Listen…” She hung up before the lady could finish. She got into bed and pulled the duvet over her and let out a shriek, for it could have killed her. Her hand clutched her stomach as the pain rushed out of her system numbing her.
The water could be heard boiling a few steps away. Her high pitched shrieks could only be heard by the deaf.
He walked home later at 7:00pm. She opened the door and saw him sit, and then she cleared her throat.
“Are you married Jobert?”
“I am not.”
“Do you have a wife and three children Jobert?”
“No, I have no wife or kids, why do you ask? Do you want us to have some?” He smiled and moved to embrace her, but she screamed at him. Jobert took a step back. Rebecca sat on the wooden stool in the kitchen and watched the water boil and clicked. She wondered what would happen if someone bathed in a hot spring. It was simple-they’d die, but still-if all things were possible why not try it on Jobert. He sat on the sofa and turned on the television. She looked at him and then scooped some hot water using a cup and stood over him.
“Jobert, before I do something you will regret-be honest with me, do you have a wife?”
“No, and what are you doing Rebecca? Put down that cup.” He sprang to his feet bumping into the wooden table that he’d rested his feet on.
“I am not stupid Jobert and I will ask one more time, do you have another woman who has your children?”
“No.”
Rebecca splashed the hot water at him and went back into the kitchen for more. She would soon know what happened to people who showered in a hot spring. He called out to her, screaming and cursing, but this was her battle and she would surely teach him a lesson. If he was pathetic enough to cheat then he’d have to suffer the wrath. She walked back into the living room with a jug full of hot water and found him at the door.
“Jobert, why would you betray the mother of your children?”
“I don’t have a wife!”
“So, are you trying to say that a woman called Joan is a liar? Are you trying to say that the children she gave you aren’t yours?”
“Listen, I know Joan, but we are divorced…look put down that jug Rebecca and let’s talk about this, please, this is not the right way to clear up a misunderstanding.”
“Leave Jobert, and wait…here’s your stuff, go away! I never want to see you again!”
“What about the rent and your upkeep, how will you manage that?”
“I am not defenseless or stupid Jobert, now go! Just go away, get out of my life!”
“Rebecca, I am sorry, look-let us settle this matter…”
“I am tired of hearing your apologies, go away! I swear I will burn you to death!”
She watched the man struggle to get past the door. The other yellow lights in the apartments around were on; their whispers lulled her to sleep. She put out the stove and for the first time cried. At midnight as the whispers died down and the sound of the dark took over-she rushed to the washroom and let out what was in her. This was the second week of nausea and the bouts of unsettled food in her stomach; she stood by the mirror and splayed her hand over her stomach. If only life had such simple beginnings-then she would not have to protect it from such pain and misery. She knew it was time and she was going to have what she had wanted with Jobert. She would name her ‘Jamila’ or him ‘Jamal,’ for a child is always beautiful. She thought of her life and prayed to God that Jobert never knew of the baby-for she did not want it to bind them.
RICHARD
German: Wealthy and Powerful
He followed the boy around town. He saw him interact with friends, and then head back home. He was taller than he’d expected, with his eyes hidden behind big sun glasses. He had three tattoos splayed across his left hand and his ears were forever occupied by earphones. Richard watched him and felt empty. Martha was right-this boy looked just like him. He felt as though he was looking at himself two decades past and his heart grew cold. He did not come back because it was easy, he came because he had to and that was what he’d wanted to talk to him about. Martha had spoiled the boy and he’d grown closer to her. He could not blame him. He did not have any right, but he had to ask, even if it meant being shot or punched.
He got out of his car as the boy reached for his.
“Excuse me, may I have a word?”
The boy turned to him and cursed-then opened his car and drove off his car screeching as he got out of the parking lot. Richard looked at his driver and stared at the ground. He knew it would be hard, but he’d not thought of just how much it would sting. How could he ever understand his reasons for leaving? They were poor and he had to make ends meet. It was pathetic of him, but still…didn’t a pathetic person deserve some redemption? His driver got out of the car and lay a hand on his shoulder bringing him back to his senses.
“We need to go Sir; you have a meeting with the Directors at noon.”
“Sure, let’s go.”
He took the back seat and stared out the window till the door was opened again to let him out. It was noon when he walked into the meeting, fresh and ready to make his presentation of the profits made that year. His wife-now fifty sat at the head of the table urging him on. He looked at her and smiled before proceeding with his presentation. If there was one thing he had been sure of was her love and endless support. They had been married now for eighteen years and in that time they had no children. The doctors never discerned the problem, but they still had each other. She was the one who had urged him to seek Ethan’s forgiveness.
If only Ethan knew he would be gone in less than six months, maybe then he’d at least look him in the eye for more than five minutes. They had detected the cancer cells in time, but something else had made it worse-his work and cigarette addiction.
Martha knew he was going to die and so did his close friends and family. He did not tell Martha that his wealth would go to Ethan; he did not tell her that his architectural company and clients all knew of Ethan. He had to keep some things to himself-like the fact that Ethan ran in his blood, his veins, his being. Ethan was him and he was Ethan-but that anger, was only a shield for he was in pain. He had done the same when he was his age…he had lived off his pain.
As they drove home later that evening, he finally told his wife about Ethan and how he reacted when he saw him. She took her hands in his and sighed. He took a long drawl of his cigarette and watched the clouds of smoke vanish in the air. “He’s just like me. I am him and he is me. I just don’t know which one’s worse, dying of cancer or not being forgiven by my son.”
“Don’t talk like that Richard, look on the bright side, you saw him…isn’t that something?”
“It is, but it’s not enough. I know he’s mad and I sure did punch my Dad when he came back for us a year after leaving us. I was sixteen then but I punched him so hard he died talking of how tough I was, funny I have done worse.”
“Don’t blame yourself sweetheart, you are doing your best, don’t stress about it-that’s not good for your health.”
“I have to blame myself for it! I left him! I remember when I was growing up I swore I would never be like my Father, but as it turns out I am worse than him. I abandoned Ethan and eighteen years later I have the guts to seek his forgiveness, tell me honey what does that make me if not the devil himself!”
“Come sit down Richard, we still have six…um, time, we have time. We will sort this out.”
“We have less than six months. Imagine I had eighteen years to turn back and reach out to him, but with six months left is when I am keen on doing that-doesn’t that sound impossible?”
“It’s not impossible, do not give up Richard, you can fight this!”
“I won’t fight it because I swear I am done. I just can’t face that much anger and pain, you should have seen him. He’s all grown, has friends, studies and gets good grades-he is carving out his future and when he saw me, it was like some dark spell was looking at him, and he just drove away. I don’t know if he even took a breath as he was driving.”
“Richard, do you think he can be a good architect?”
“I don’t think honey, I know.”
“How?”
“I have people look into his life, all the places he’s gone-he sketches various structures-it just comes to him and no, he is not a graphic designer, he is an architect and he’ll see this company through if only he’d forgive me. I am such a failure, first I hate my Dad, and then I become worse than him now I can see Ethan being the worst!”
“Come sit down. I will bring your medication.”
“Do you know what I wish you’d bring me?”
“Ethan…I wish he’d finally punch me or shoot me, just so his anger can get out of him. I wish I was a good Father honey, I wish I was not all wealthy and powerful, but firm in my decision to seek him eighteen years back.”
PAULA
Latin: Small
“Paula, wake up!”
“Paula, you will be late for school.”
The girl stretched her arms and stepped out of bed keen not to let her feet touch the ground. When they did so-she sneezed, then the tirade began. Her door flung open and the man walked in with a blue apron around his waist, and a business bag hanging on his shoulder.
“Good morning love.”
“Good morning Daddy, I don’t think today is a good day.”
“It’s always a good day, okay get back in bed and we’ll call the doctor. I will bring your breakfast in a few seconds okay?”
“Daddy, will it be bad again?”
“No, it won’t.”
The man stood at the door looking at the girl if only for a few seconds, then walked away. They had a code, something so simple that existed between them. He was just a teacher and she was a student. He was doing his very best to provide-but at times she felt as though she was dragging him behind. When she suggested he start dating he laughed and said, ‘I don’t have the time for that love.’ It was an honest answer, but it cut through her soul and haunted her in her dreams. How could he work, date and take care of her? She looked at her feet and then lifted her left hand and sneezed again. She could feel her chest getting squeezed; more like it was being contained against its will. Her head started throbbing and the tears trickled down her cheeks-in one shriek she sought him and he was there just as fast. “You will be fine love, now let me get your sweater and rush you to the doctor.”
“I don’t want to go Daddy, hospitals are bad.”
“You will have to only this time so the doctor can see what’s up, okay?”
“Daddy, am I going to die?”
“You are going to live to have so many children and I will be there to baby sit! Now, let’s get you to the hospital before this fever gets on your nerves.”
He carried the young girl in his arms and made his way past a few houses then went down a flight of stairs before making his way to the main road. He had checked his wallet before and saw only three hundred shillings that would not meet the taxi fare, so a matatu would do just fine. The people at the bus stop watched him struggle to get her comfortable and looked away. Other people talked in hushed tones, some staring at him as though he was doing the wrong thing. The driver looked at him and told the tout not to let anyone join them in the front seat.
“How old is she?”
“Ten.”
“Where’s her Mother?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“She left her with me when she was only three weeks old. I have never heard from her.”
“Women! So what do you do?”
“I am a teacher.”
“Does it help?”
“It’s hard; I am doing the best I can though.”
“What is she suffering from?”
“Sickle-cell anemia.”
“Jesus! Hey, I might not help much but we’ll get you through the traffic so she can see a Doctor and forget about the fare, it’s on me.”
“Thank you. I don’t know what else to say, thank you. I won’t forget this.”
“You just live your life; I must admit that I would never want to be you.” When they got near the hospital, the driver made his way as closest to the entrance as he could, by that time Paula had already passed out and all he could do was cite the rosary. The driver called out to him but his mind was on Paula. His little girl had to make it. He rushed into the emergency hall and was attended to by some nurses who kept asking him questions and demanded that he check her in at the reception. He looked through his bag for her health insurance card and sat on the leather seat adjacent to the reception and covered his face. Paula was small and beautiful. She had lots of questions and was his only best friend. This was the third time he had come to the hospital, the next time he’d not be able to cover the costs because he had overstretched his loan limit. He looked at his wrist watch and pulled out his cellphone-he had to call in at school and seek permission.
“Edith, hey…how are you today?”
“I am doing great and you? Are you on your way to school?”
“I am afraid I might not be in and that’s why I am calling. Could you please cover for me? I have lessons with grades six and seven.”
“Okay, what’s up?”
“Paula is ill. I am at the Nairobi Hospital waiting for any news from the doctors about her condition.”
“I am sorry, listen, I will drop by in the afternoon and help out, okay?”
“You don’t have to, really.”
“I want to, Paula is my friend.”
“Okay, thanks a lot Edith.”
“Don’t mention it.” He hung up and stood to stretch his legs. He had been here every second he could and he knew it would take a while. The last time she was hospitalized, he stayed beside her for close to a month. He was grateful that his employer understood, but at times he wished his landlord would be more accommodating. He watched as people walked in seeking medical assistance and felt his heart beat faster than his breath could acknowledge. What if Paula never woke up?
It would be a small world for sure.
NADIM
Arabic: Friend
The short figure splayed his body on the mat and looked at the sky, as he whistled. This was the tenth day and though his stomach grumbled he had to see it through. He looked at the sky one more time with the sun scorching the earth. He would take a vacation if he were the sun. The people did not need him; rather they yearned for his friend-the rain. He yearned for the wind at that moment and would settle even for a breeze.
“You lazy boy! Go and greet your uncles.”
“Yes Mother.”
The woman managed to utter some curses under her breath in Swahili as he passed by her. He knew what they would say-he was a failure. He lacked his elder brother’s charm and determination. He was slow to comprehend and a liability to their family. The whole Mosque knew of his failure. They talked about it and the women urged their daughter to steer clear of him. How could any woman love a stupid man who could not tell east from west? How could he manage his house when he could not add one to another? He thought of what life would be like back in Lamu and smiled. There were days when he’d go to sea and catch plenty of fish that the fishermen would stare and only smile. He knew what it felt like to be at sea. He belonged to the sea and that was where he wanted to be-the books did not matter.
He did not care for numbers or language, but he loved the ‘shairi’ and fishing. He lived for these two and when they could not understand he showed them just how much of a failure he was.
“Nadim, how are you my boy?”
“I am fine thank you Uncle Kassam.”
“Good, now what is this I hear about you bringing shame to your family?”
“I do not know a thing about shame Uncle. I want to go back to Lamu.”
“What business do you have in Lamu my boy?”
“Fishing.”
“So you want to fish?”
“I know how to fish and I am at peace there. If you give me your consent I believe that the shame my family talks of will be non-existent. They will live a peaceful life and so will I.”
“Well thought Nadim, now go and pack your things. We set out for Lamu at dawn.”
“Thank you Uncle Kassam.”
“Bless you my boy.”
Nadim walked back to his room and stared at the bag under the bed. He knew his uncle would not deny him anything. If at all, he hoped that he would make a name for himself while in Lamu. He sat on the edge of the bed and started reading his poems…his fingers tapping away on his knee as he counted the pauses.
He may not have been book smart, but he had his fishing and poetry. Above this he had his Uncle Kassam who was his only true friend.
EDITH
English: Wonderful Gift
She walked into the room at 4:00pm. The man had the girl’s hand in his and he was saying a prayer. She stood fixed by the door and watched the tears run down his cheeks as he prayed. The girl had one tube covering her nose and mouth, more like she was breathing through some plastic pipe. She looked at the clock and then cleared her throat. He was still at the Joyful ministries and she figured the prayer would take longer than she wanted.
“Oh, hey…you made it.”
“How is she?”
“Critical.”
“She’ll get through this one.”
“I should have seen this coming. I mean first the fatigue, poor appetite and then today her feet were swollen and she couldn’t stop whimpering because of the headache, what kind of Father does that make me?”
“Now is not the time to blame yourself! You are a good parent and she knows it!”
“It just doesn’t feel right Edith, but she will be well, so how were my classes?”
“Great, though they missed you. Look, I talked to the Principal and she said you can take as much time as you want till Paula gets better, during that time I will take care of your lessons.”
“Thank you, it’s been a tough year Edith and I am afraid it’s getting worse.”
“You will be good Joseph, I know how hard this might be-and I did share your story with one of my cousins, forgive me for doing so, but he had to know something about you.”
“Who is he?”
“Richard, he walked out on his wife and son eighteen years ago. He is diagnosed with lung cancer and has barely six months to live and when he approached his son, Ethan, seeking forgiveness, his son drove off without a word. He is not doing so well right now. So I told him about you and Paula, and he said he’d be willing to help if you wanted him to because he has all this money-that he’ll leave behind and I just thought you needed help.”
“I need Paula, she’s all I need Edith. I hope you understand that.”
“Joseph, I know I have no right to ask this but will you ever consider me as your wife?”
“Edith…”
“It’s okay, I just wanted to know so I stop dreaming, don’t worry about me…I guess you never know stuff unless you ask. Just forget I said anything.”
“Will you love Paula as your own?”
“I already love her, what’s to stop me?”
“Then yes…I’d be honored to have you as my wife Edith, I guess I just needed time to be sure, but I am not rich. I live in a one bedroom apartment, haven’t bought any new fancy suits for the past three years, I sleep at midnight and wake up to read a novel at 5:00am. I am a good cook and I a complete mess with my wardrobe. I have parents who think I am too stubborn and a daughter who will probably not live long enough to fall in love and start a family of her own. I love her more than I would ever love you and if you can live with that, then I’d like to declare that I would like to marry you.”
“You’re silly Joseph, do you know that?”
“I’ll accept it for now, but Edith I would not offer you a lavish lifestyle I hope you know what you are getting into.”
“I knew six months ago Joseph, we cherish each other’s company and I don’t see why you should be worried, you need someone to take care of you as much as you do for Paula.”
“She’s my baby.”
“And you are my husband.”
“You are bold Edith and a wonderful gift. Thank you Edith, thank you for loving me even when I don’t deserve your love. I guess there’s only so much we can do and at times whatever we set out to do is never enough. Imagine all the people out there who have some pain, others have such joy that they dare not stop dreaming-but look at my baby, ten years! Of those years she has spent half of them in a hospital with nurses poking needles at her and what of her Mother? At times I wonder if she misses Paula worse off if she misses me. I was young and carefree then and one night of fun-ended in Paula. I do not know what to tell her at times, because she looks exactly like her.”
“Do you know what Richard told me yesterday when I went to see him?”
“What did he say?”
“He said that time is all we have and it does not matter whether it is in the past, present or future for we are constantly creating something. We should all live for the moment, because if we do not we lose ourselves in regrets, wishes and losses. He left his son behind, and that haunts him to date and somehow he has helped create a monster-who will only inflict so much pain on others. What he is hoping for however is that he can make Ethan see his mistake and that Ethan can let go of his anger and live a rich life, where pain is not a driving force but love is. It was the way he said it that made me think of you and why I had to make known my feelings.”
“What did he say?”
“He said, ‘If time is all I have, I would spend it on love…and the love I have is for my Son, Ethan.”
“He must love him a lot.”
“He’s always loved him and if time is all he has, I am sure he will get Ethan’s forgiveness. And if time is all I have Joseph, I will spend it on love."
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About the Author
Dora is a collector not only of stones, names, leaves and quotes-but of moments full of love and pain. If you loved this e-book, or better yet think she could have done better, check out her other works: Dear Yellow, Dear May, and Say You Love Me available on http://www.smashwords.com
She tweets as @herhar, and has a blog http://www.dora-jodie.blogspot.com
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