**The Proposal**
One of the most common mistakes is to think of people as simply good or bad, foolish or wise. A person is like a riverever-changing, carrying all possibilities within them. They might have been foolish and become wise, cruel and then kind, or the other way around. Thats the greatness of humanity. And for that very reason, we must never judge a person too quickly. You condemn them, and already they are someone else. These words, once written in his diaries by Leo Tolstoy, linger in the air like an echo of some deeper truth.
Its hard to argue with the great minds, sometimes nearly impossible. Life proves them right every time, if you look closely enoughsift the wheat from the chaff, and the core of truth becomes clear, almost something you could hold in your hands.
But today, such weighty thoughts feel distant, because from the moment the sun rose, the heat has been relentless. A proper July scorcher, as if the air had flung itself against the cold brick walls of Londons terraced houses, bounced back like a rubber ball onto the pavement, even hotter, then simply given up, bowing its head beneath the suns molten glare.
Yet inside Emily, it was winter. A deep, biting frost. This summer was happening without her.
School was behind her now. She should be thinking about university, as any recent graduate would. But Emily was pregnant. What use was university now? And Danielwell, Daniel had turned out to be a rat. When she told him about the baby, he only bit his lip, turned to stare out the window, and said,
“Sure, I was the first but there couldve been a second.”
Emily hadnt even been able to cry. She just stood there, staring at his backhis perfectly ordinary back, rising and falling with calm, even breaths. She had wanted to say more, to ask what she was supposed to do now, but then the doorbell rangher mum was home from work. Daniel went to answer it, exchanged a quick greeting in the hallway, and left.
Her mother strode straight into Emilys room, demanding to know what was wrong. Emily, flustered, blurted it out:
“Nothings wrong. Im just pregnant.”
Her mother stared at her, right into her eyes. Then she shriekedthough Emily didnt hear the words, because the sound was swallowed by the sharp crack of a slap across her face.
Thats when the winter began inside her. Snow fell all at once, burying her up to her scalp. Cold. Empty. Inside and out.
Her mother shouted something else, but snow muffles sound. Emily sank onto the edge of her bed and began to cryexcept the tears never reached her cheeks. They froze inside her, turning to little crystal marbles, rattling hollowly in the emptiness.
Her mother stormed out, the front door slammed, and silence rushed in. Emily was left alone with her frozen tears in the middle of a sweltering July evening.
She curled into a tight ball, and only then did the real crying startmessy, girlish sobs, sniffles and hiccups. And oh, how pitiful it all was! Not for herself, nofor the baby who hadnt even been born yet and was already unwanted. Not by its father, not by its grandmother, not even by her, its foolish mother. No one wanted it.
She fell asleep while it was still light outside, slipping into strange, hazy dreams. She woke to the weight of someone sitting beside her, a gentle hand stroking her hair.
Her mother had returned. She was the one whispering now:
“Emmy, love forgive me. Im an idiot, even if Im not that old yet. I should be happymy girls all grown up. Soon to be a mother herself. And here I was, carrying on like”
Her voice cracked, tears streaking down her cheeks as she wiped them with her palms.
“Only thing Im thinking now isplease dont let it be a boy. Just not a boy. Because mentheyre all the same. None of them ever really understand, or care, not the way they should. Not your dad, not mine either!”
Now Emily was sobbing too, loud and ugly, like the village women in old stories. She sat up, clinging to her mother, arms wrapped tight around herthe most precious person in her life. They cried together, each mourning their own sorrows. And it was warm, the two of them. Summer warm.
Thenthe doorbell again. Her mother sniffed hard, wiping her face, holding Emily back as she tried to rise.
“Stay put, love. Ill get it.”
She hurried to the door, smoothing her hair as she went. Tragedy or not, if a man was on the other side, a woman had to look presentable.
She opened it. And there, on the doorstep, stood not one man, but two. Danieland his father, who spoke first.
“Evening, Mrs. Whitmore. Apologies for the hour, but my lad heres told me everything. Or at least, I hope he has.” He turned to his son, raising an eyebrow. “Or did you leave anything out, future granddad?”
Daniel hung his head. His father went on.
“So weve come, the both of us, to ask for your daughters hand. If Emily can find it in her heart to forgive this idiot for what he said.” He cuffed Daniel lightly on the back of the head. “Go on then, you little sod. Beg the girls pardon. If she wont have you, youre no son of mine!”
Yes. People change. Like rivers, like the tide. Sometimes we do stupid things, and havent the faintest idea how to make them right. Lucky for us, there are mothers and fathers to show the way. Theyd never steer us wrong.
