Gulliver's Travails

A thank you to blackrandl1958 for the invitation to participate in her "Legend's Day: One More" event, as well as her editing and encouragement.

It never fails. I was scrambling to get out of my office to begin my weekend on a Friday afternoon when I get that dreaded "one more call."

It was 3:10 PM. I was already 10 minutes into weekend mode. I knew my wife would have been up at the lake house for about two hours now, probably working on her second margarita, wearing that yellow sundress I thought she looked so good in. Yes, Abby was no ingenue at 50, but she was still a gym regular and looked at least 10 years younger. Shit, I needed to stop thinking of my wife, answer the damn phone and get moving.

"I know you're trying to get out of here, Gabe, but the woman on the phone says she's your daughter and absolutely needs to speak to you," said my bookkeeper/right-hand-woman Kate Beckett. "She didn't sound anything like Lauren, though. I've talked to her hundreds of times in the last eight years, and this was definitely not her."

"Perfect," I said flatly. "I'm pretty sure part of your job is to keep insurance agents off my back, Kate."

I heard her giggle right before I punched in our number one phone line and responded, "Gulliver. How can I help you?" I was upset that someone would pretend to be my daughter just to get put through to me.

"Da-Daddy? I'm in big trouble, Daddy, and I really, really need your help," the obviously scared voice on the other end of the phone line said.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. That voice did belong to a daughter of mine... one from another lifetime ago; one of my two daughters from my first marriage, whom I hadn't heard the first word from since the day she got married three years ago. There was a time when I would have gone running at the mere sound of her voice. Not so much anymore.

"Emily? Emily! What's going on? Where are you? What kind of help do you need?" I asked rapid-fire, my paternal instincts overcoming my good sense.

"I'm dying, Daddy," she said barely above a whisper. "My kidneys are shot... and neither Mom nor Pepper are a match. I know you have the same blood type as me, and I was hoping..."

I could have been a deaf-mute for how I sat at my desk holding the phone to my ear. It had been 15 years since both of my kids from my first marriage basically cut me out of their lives. The last time I saw Emily, I was an invited guest at her wedding three years ago, not even allowed to sit with the family during the ceremony or at the reception. Her stepfather walked her down the aisle and gave her away.

I have no idea how long I sat silent before I heard her calling my name.

"Dad? Daddy? Are you still there?" she called quietly.

"Yeah, I'm still here ba... Emily. I-I need time to think about this," I said.

"Uh... really, Daddy? You need time to think about this? I'm your daughter for God sake," she suddenly yelled at me through the phone line.

"That's awfully convenient, don't you think?" I asked quietly, my tone having changed from concerned to aggravated in the blink of an eye.

I assumed the silence I heard through the line was my daughter suddenly re-thinking some of her life decisions concerning me for the last 15 years. First, she and her younger sister chose to live with their cheating slut mother after the divorce; virtually never visiting with me on the days I was supposed to have them. Then they chose to change their last names to match that of their mother after she married her paramour. The final insult was when I was told that their stepfather was going to pay for the wedding and walk her down the aisle. I could attend the wedding but would be nothing more than any other random guest.

My second wife and I attended the wedding, but were relegated to an aisle and a table well away from the immediate family during the ceremony and reception. Emily even made sure to thank her stepfather during her bride's speech. I might as well have been invisible. Her new husband, whom I had barely interacted with prior to the wedding, also virtually ignored me on the wedding day. My wife and I left the reception after the first hour, and that was the last time I saw or talked to either daughter... until a few minutes earlier.

"Daddy, you know I didn't mean anything..."

"Don't, Emily," I interjected. "Just because I was too trusting of your cheating slut mother to realize she was cheating on me for almost a year doesn't mean I'm a clueless fool. What you and your sister did to me was almost worse, in a way. You encouraged her cheating, and then your behavior after the divorce... hell, we won't talk about that shit."

Another long silence ensued.

"Bu-u-ut I'm your daughter, Daddy. You have to help me," she whined.

"Really?" I responded. "Let me get back to you on that, kid."

I heard her saying something as I hung up the phone.

The trip up to my lake house took an hour and gave me time to play the memory game. It wasn't a pleasant hour.

******

I thought I had the world by the ass 15 years ago. I was 39 years old, married to my college sweetheart for 16 years, two great daughters and for the past five years I had been the junior partner in a successful Arby's franchise in southern Indiana. Yes, I worked 55 to 60 hours per week, but the work was relatively easy and I was just starting to reap the financial rewards. I was actually looking at buying out my senior partner in the near future and maybe getting a stake in a couple more near-by Arby's franchises.

A few months earlier, I had adjusted my hours to leave my store on Fridays at 3, and only go in on Saturdays for a half-day. The weekend was supposed to be sunny and warm, and I figured I'd get a good jump on my spring yardwork while the girls were at softball practice Saturday afternoon. Then maybe we'd all head over to the Indianapolis Zoo before hitting Cheesecake Factory for dinner.

I was feeling pretty good about things and really didn't really think twice about the fact that Dr. Harrison McCord's car was parked on Donatella's side of the driveway as I pulled my car past his and into my empty garage slot. Harry had been one of Donnie's bosses at a large orthopedic practice in Indianapolis, and she had been his top surgical nurse for the past five years. They worked closely together and Donnie had said they had become friends as well as colleagues. I totally got that because my wife is well-read and personable, and had always seemed to be in the middle of any crowd of people in which she chooses to be part.

I tolerated Harry McCord, at best, finding him to be somewhat insufferable due to his God complex. To be fair, however, most of the physicians at the practice had the same high opinion of themselves, so it's not like his attitude was out of line for his circumstance. Still, he was one of my wife's bosses, so I was never going to tell him what I really thought of him, despite the fact that he didn't seem to have any problem letting me know that I'd never be his equal. He had done this several times at social events since he began at the practice, and it took my wife's continued pleading to keep me from popping him in the mouth.

"I make very good money there, Gabe, more than you bring home, so don't you dare start anything with him. Do you understand me?" she told me at one of the first social events he was at where he gave me attitude and lip.

Several times a year the practice held family events on a Sunday, and soon after Harry became part of the team there was a barbecue at the home of one of the senior partners. I had just finished playing volleyball with a group of parents and kids and was heading for the ice chest holding the beer when I passed by a group of what I assumed were younger male doctors talking about what they wanted to do to several of the nurses on staff. When one mentioned a particular nurse with long blonde hair, blue eyes and big boobs, I knew I needed to... interrupt that particular discussion.

"Make another comment like that about my wife and I'll rip your tongue out of your mouth and use it to wipe my ass the next time I take a shit," I said as I walked right up to the mouthy bastard.

Harry, as I found out his name later, had about three inches and 30 pounds on me, but from looking at him I could tell he didn't belong to a gym and had probably never been in a scrap in his life. I worked out regularly, and as a kid had my fair share of fights. I knew what it was like to get hit by a fist in the heat of battle.

It was at that point that the partner whose home we were at walked up to quell the potential uprising, and five seconds later Donatella grabbed me by my arm, pulled me off to a quiet spot and gave me her upbraiding.

Since that time, Donnie had made it a point to me that I wasn't to threaten Harry or even breathe harshly in his direction any time we were at the same event.

If Harry's presence at my house didn't exactly make me happy, the sight of my wife sitting up against him on the sofa in our living room set my teeth on edge. Before I could express my opinion of the situation, however, Donnie jumped in... hard.

"Obviously, Gabe, we need to talk."

Wow. How cliché. I fought back the urge to attack the smarmy bastard, who was sitting on the sofa smirking at me. I sat silently for several seconds before I realized she was waiting for my response.

"Oh, please, don't let me interrupt. The floor is yours," I said as I made a sweeping motion with my hand.

She actually let out a breath of... relief. Apparently, this was much more stressful for her than I realized. How rude of me.

"Uhh... we really didn't mean for it to happen, Gabe. It just did. We started out as friends... and things just kind of developed. We've been... intimate... for about the last six months," she said.

Considering her attitude concerning the good doctor, I can't say I was totally surprised by her announcement, although I was chagrined at her obvious attempt at lying to me. I first noticed that she seemed to be pulling away from me emotionally about 18 months ago, so I stepped up my game: flowers, small gifts and most important, more one-on-one time with her. That didn't seem to work, because about a year ago I noticed she upped her lingerie game under her scrubs and started working later several days a week, where in the past she had rarely worked extra hours. I kept a sharper eye out; if she was cheating, she was awfully good at hiding it... until she no longer wanted to hide it.

I felt my blood pressure spike.

"By my figuring, you two have been intimate... ahaha... been fucking for about the last year... and this didn't just happen. I'd bet he'd been chasing and you've been warming up to him well before that," I said hesitantly, pissed at myself for sounding weak.

I must have been on the money, because my statement seemed to make her angry, while Harrison continued to sit there smirking at me.

"Yeah... whatever, Gabe. I want a divorce. I want half our stuff. I want the girls. I don't care about your little fast-food enterprise. If you fight me on any of this, I'll go nuclear and go after every scrap I'm entitled to, which includes half of your stake in the restaurant. Harrison has more than enough money to bankroll my fancy-ass lawyer... and by the time I'm through with you, you will be living in the proverbial shoebox without a pot to piss in."

"I'll fight you on the girls," I quickly replied. "There's no way I'm going to accept being an every-other-weekend father!"

She snickered like she knew something I didn't. The hair on the back of my neck went up.

I found out why Donnie snickered when I talked to my daughters the next day. Much to my shock, Emily and Trish already knew about their mother and Harrison. In fact, they seemed to revel in their knowledge.

"Mom's hot, Dad. She needs a hot guy. And he's a hot, rich guy," Emily commented.

I suddenly felt sick to my stomach.

"Sorry to tell you this, Dad, but you're not hot... and kind of boring. I can't wait to live with him and Mom," Trish said.

"Wait. What?" I mumbled, barely able to stop the expletive that was in my head from coming out of my mouth. "You two already know about your mother and Harrison... and you're good with it?"

"We've known for about a month now, Dad. Mom swore us to secrecy," Emily said. "Said we'd both get a new car when we turn 16... and Harrison's got a real nice house, too."

I was sitting in my chair at the kitchen table until Emily told me she and Trish knew about the affair. Reflexively, I jumped up and started pacing about the room.

"Yeah, Dad. We're going with Mom. We'll still see you every other week... unless we're doing something," Emily said cheerfully.

"Did either one of you ever consider saying something to me about your mother cheating?" I asked.

The girls looked at each other and smiled self-consciously. At least I hoped it was self-consciously.

"Uhh... not really," Trish said.

I wondered if the two could hear my heart breaking. Losing their mother was one thing. This was at a whole different level.

We had a decent amount of equity in the house and there was no alimony. Child support was going to take a big chunk of my income, however, so by the time the dust settled, Donnatella was right: I would be living in a shoebox without a pot to piss in... and that was without putting up a fight. Fuck.

I wound up in a small two-bedroom apartment, although as it turned out I really didn't need the second bedroom for when the girls came to visit... because they almost never visited. They were way too busy most times to visit formerly Dear Old Dad.

At first, after the divorce, I buried myself in work to make up for losing my family and half of my stuff. I had no desire to enter into another relationship so soon after my betrayal. Gradually, though, I found I missed having at least someone with whom to share my life. So, I did the next best thing: I went to an animal shelter and picked out a dog. He wasn't a handsome purebred, but his eyes showed character, something that none of the members of my former family displayed at the end. He was about 80 pounds of brown dog with some black in his face, about five years old, the shelter staff figured. I named him "Levon" to honor Levon Helm of The Band, who I always considered one of the most low-key rockers of his era.

Levon went everywhere with me that a dog was allowed. In my small apartment, he usually was sitting half on top of me on my small sofa. I joked to him that he was my emotional therapy dog. I talked to him all the time, discussed my new hopes and dreams with him and told him the occasional joke I heard at work that day. I know that he probably didn't understand too much of what I told him, but the fact that he listened attentively to me was good for my soul.

Interestingly, on the few times my daughters visited me at my apartment, Levon usually stayed as far away from them as he could. He seemed to merely tolerate them. I can't say I blamed him.

It was a little more than two years after my divorce when I called over to the local high school to leave a message for my older daughter. She hadn't stopped by my house to collect her birthday gift from two weeks ago, so I wanted to remind her to do that. I knew the school didn't allow students to use their phones during the school day except for emergencies, so I tried to leave a message... except the secretary who answered the phone told me they had no students registered by that name. I was just about to berate the stupid woman when a terrible stray thought hit my brain. I asked her if she had a student registered as Emily Cord. She replied in the positive, so I told her to leave a message for that student.

"By the way, who is listed as this student's parents?" I enquired.

"Dr. Harrison and Donnatella Cord," the secretary responded.

I was none too happy with that response, and I let her know that I should be listed as Emily's father, no one else.

"Our listings come directly from the students. They can list whomever they want as parents and emergency contacts, if those are different," the woman on the other end of the phone said.

I growled through the phone connection before asking if they had a listing for a Patricia Cord as well. She answered affirmatively. By this point, my heart was broken into little pieces and I could feel the beginning of an ulcer in my stomach.

Emily showed up at my door at 8 that evening, ringing my bell. When I answered the door, I could see her mother's car in my driveway. As usual, I didn't rate a kiss hello.

I handed her the birthday present but didn't release it immediately.

"How long have you been going by Emily Cord?" I asked, my tone none too kindly.

"Probably since the beginning of the school year, Dad. Why?"

I shook my head slowly, holding my tears in check.

"No reason. Just curious," I said.

I was sitting at an outside table at a local Dunkin drinking a large black coffee and eating a chocolate cake doughnut one Sunday morning when Levon paid me back big-time for adopting him.

"Is it okay if I pet him?" asked a woman's voice from somewhere behind me, obviously talking about Levon, who was laying at my feet munching on a dog biscuit I had brought along with me.

"Yeah, sure. He's completely harmless," I said as I turned to face the voice and found it was connected to a short woman in a Cubs hat carrying a cup of coffee and a newspaper.

The woman set her coffee and paper down on the table and proceeded to scritch Levon on his head and ears, murmuring sweet nothings as she did so. Levon responded happily as he always does to that kind of attention, his tail wagging quickly. Having nothing better to do, I appraised Levon's new friend from head to toe, and determined she was a curvy package in her tight, short jean shorts and tight Cubs crop top.

I invited the woman to join me after she finished scratching my dog and she did, introducing herself as Melanie. She appeared to be a few years younger than my 42.

"Melanie? Like the singer from the 1960s? No last name?" I asked in a joking manner.

"Actually, it's Melanie Kalakidesus," she said, pronouncing the last name slowly, as if I was a slow child, "But most people screw up my last name so much I just started telling people only my first name. We Greeks are just this side of Polish people for having unpronounceable last names."

We both laughed at that, one of the few times I can remember laughing in the presence of a woman in the last few years.

"Gabriel Gulliver here. Gabe to my friends, and Levon's friends as well. Can I offer you a dog biscuit on his behalf?" I inquired.

She giggled and I was hooked.

We talked for about 30 minutes. In that time, I found out she was a 35-year old divorced mother of two pre-teen sons whose husband had cheated on her and then abandoned the family several years previously. She worked for an insurance company and while she was doing okay for herself and her boys, there wasn't room for a lot of indulgences. Her Sunday morning coffee at Dunkin while her boys were with their grandparents was one of the few.

She looked slightly embarrassed when she revealed the last fact, her cheeks going red and her big brown eyes looking down at the table.

"The kids' father is a deadbeat... dad," she said with more than a little anger in her voice. "Oh hell, he's a deadbeat fuckhead, is what he is. Pardon my French."

Her eyes were blazing when she looked back up at me.

"I don't mind that he isn't paying my alimony, but how could he not support his own kids?" she queried rhetorically.

"He'd probably be happier if he had kids like my daughters. Even though I pay my support, they want nothing to do with me. They've got a rich, younger stepdad now and would be completely happy if they never had to see me again," I said. "That's why I got Levon. I needed someone to share my life and dog biscuits with.

"Isn't that right, you beast?" I said in my best "dog voice," then flipped him the biscuit that Melanie had turned down.

I spent the next few minutes telling her the story of my divorce and sad life since.

"If you don't mind me asking, what about dating? Surely a handsome man like yourself would be popular among the divorced set. I know there's a lot of women in my age group that would like to give you a ride... Oh shit, that came out wrong," she said, blushing profusely.

It was my turn to snicker.

"I guess my daughters are right. Maybe I am old," I said. "I just don't have any desire to play the game. I've had a few dates, but not many. I'm not really into indiscriminate sex. I want to feel something for a woman before I take her to bed.

"Shit. Did I just say that out loud? Now I suppose I'm going to have to give up my man card."

I couldn't read the expression on her face as she looked at me in silence.

"Fuck. Where have you been all my life?" she said barely above a whisper.

We exchanged numbers and began dating. We didn't sleep together for two months. By then, I had met her 12-year-old son, Oliver, and her 9-year-old daughter, Stephanie. Both kids took to me immediately, which made me wonder how my wife could turn my own children against me so completely. I was hurt and angry. Melanie told me I needed to give the girls time to come around. I told her I thought two years was more than enough.

Despite the fact that my girls were the next thing to rude to Melanie, she kept on me to keep the door open with them. They were both invited to our wedding a year after we started dating, although neither one of them showed up. I didn't expect them to, so I was only mildly hurt, but I felt bad for Melanie, who continued to champion their cause despite their bad behavior.

On the other hand, Melanie's pair continually boosted my spirits, along with their mother. Oliver literally was the son I never had, and I became the father figure he sorely lacked in his life. Stephanie, who was a little over 4 when her father left, followed me around like a puppy, rarely letting me get out of her sight. Levon had to adjust a little, because where in the past it was just him and me, suddenly we were a triumvirate.

Melanie worked for a local insurance agency, so between the two of us we were doing okay financially. We had bought a small three-bedroom home, and I had become a junior partner in a second Arby's franchise in the area. I was never going to be a Dr. Harrison, but I was rallying back, both personally and financially, with my new family.

Because I paid attention, I knew when Emily's graduation date from high school was a couple of years later. I didn't get a formal invitation, but Melanie and I attended anyway; after all, I was her father.

After the ceremony, Melanie and I found Emily among all the graduates. She was surrounded by Donnatella, Trish and Harrison when we walked up to a very lukewarm reception. I introduced Melanie to my ex-wife and Harrison before Emily dismissed us by telling us that the four of them had reservations at an upscale restaurant in town.

"Didn't want to hold you up. Just wanted to give you a graduation gift," I said.

Emily took the envelope and said thanks, making sure to stand just far enough away that I understood I wasn't going to get a hug.

"Wow," Melanie said directly to Donnatella. "If one of my kids had been that rude to your husband, at the very least I'd be upset. You, apparently, are every bit the bitch Gabe says you are."

Donnie looked like she was about to respond, but Melanie took a step closer to her.

"Go on, bitch," she hissed. "Say something and I'll slap that stupid look right off your face--right here."

Donnatella hurriedly closed her mouth and took a decisive step back. I noticed that the people around us had gotten quiet and were staring at our group. Melanie continued to glare at my ex-wife for several seconds.

"Yeah. I thought so," Melanie rasped before taking my hand and leading me off toward our car.

About a year after I married their mother, Melanie's kids came to me and asked if it would be okay if they could use my last name, the way my kids did with Harrison. I was incredibly touched by their request, and decided to go one step further.

"How about I adopt you two and we can all legally be Gullivers?" I asked. Melanie broke down crying, and was quickly joined by Oliver and Stephanie.

I had an attorney track down their biological father, who was only too happy to give up his parental rights in exchange for no longer having to pay child support and having his back support wiped out.

"Of course, this means that legally you two are now half-siblings to Emily and Trish," I said. "There seems to be a downside to everything, I guess."

Both Oliver and Stephanie worked for my first Arby's in the summers when they got old enough, something Emily and Trish absolutely refused to do when I had asked them years before.

I continued to send gifts to Emily and Trish for their birthdays and Christmas, but I knew I wasn't going to be acknowledged. I was able to let it roll off my back because I got more than enough love and respect from my younger two children. In fact, it had been several years since I had seen either of my first two kids when the invitation to Emily's wedding showed up in the mail. I was surprised and hurt that not only didn't I know about the upcoming wedding, but that I wasn't even asked to help pay for the event. That should have been my honor and pleasure. Only Melanie's loving held me back from killing Harrison and Donnatella, especially after Donnatella told me I would have no role at all in the wedding and would in fact be sitting at a table of "friends" for the reception.

I seriously considered not even attending, but once again my wife intervened, pointing out that being there was the important thing, not where we were seated. I put my feelings on the shelf and attended, enduring the looks and comments from both family and friends... especially when my daughter thanked and praised her stepfather to the heavens for giving her an amazing wedding and being an amazing parent for the last dozen years. My blood pressure was so high that I could hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears.

The tears running down my cheeks weren't from the emotions of seeing my first-born married. My wife squeezed my hand and arm several times throughout the day and reminded me how much she, Oliver and Stephanie loved me. Still, I was devastated and felt like I barely survived the day.

******

My phone blew up with texts and calls while I drove home on that Friday afternoon. I didn't answer any, preferring to keep my focus on the road. When I got to my house, I glanced at the phone and counted no less than six calls and 10 texts, with most coming from Emily and my ex-wife. I didn't answer any and instead went into the house to explain to Melanie what was happening.

Melanie was aghast when I explained Emily's predicament and our earlier phone call. She practically came unglued when I told her that my donating a kidney to Emily was hardly a done deal.

"Are you serious right now, Gabriel? She's your damn daughter! Of course you will give her one of your kidneys!" my wife insisted.

"Not quite so fast, Mel. I'm not a body parts dispensary. The girl disses me for over a decade, but suddenly I'm just supposed to pony up a kidney... a kidney, for fuck's sake... to save her life. Do I have the word "schmuck" tattooed on my forehead?" I remarked.

Melanie's mouth dropped open in shock. If I expected her to understand my hesitation, I was severely mistaken.

"You can't even be considering not giving her a kidney," Melanie said. "She's your daughter. Regardless of everything that's gone down, she's still your daughter, and she'll die unless you give her a kidney. This is a no-brainer, Gabriel."

I knew exactly how upset Melanie was when she used my formal first name twice in the span of a minute.

"No, babe, it's not a no-brainer, not for me. My mama didn't raise any chumps. She's disrespected me since I divorced her mother... before that actually... and I'm having a hard time reconciling that with the fact that she thinks I should just willy-nilly give her a kidney to save her life," I said.

"You would actually consider not saving your own daughter's life because she hurt your feelings?" Melanie practically shouted at me. "Because she hurt your 'widdle' feelings?"

She said the last part using the voice a parent uses with a very young child. I knew she was making a point, but I wasn't necessarily in the mood for her point... nor her overt ridicule. She had to know by the look in my eyes that she had overstepped her bounds.

"Yes, I would and actually am considering not giving my daughter a kidney. Who says I have to be mistreated and disrespected and yet still..."

"Save her life?" Melanie interrupted. "I do, for one.

"This isn't about being mad at Emily anymore. This is about saving a life. Saving her life. Your daughter.

"I know you don't like her very much anymore, but you have to still love her. You have to save her. You have to."

"I don't have to. That's the thing. Giving a kidney is a huge thing. Why would I want to undergo such an invasive procedure for someone I don't even like, and don't really love anymore, to be honest about it?" I asked quietly.

"She's your daughter. Your own flesh and blood. You can't just let her die. You can't," Melanie claimed. "Would you let Oliver and Stephanie die if you could save them?"

"Absolutely not. I love Oliver and Stephanie and would do everything in my power to save them. But I don't love Emily near to that degree anymore, if at all."

She looked stunned.

"I-I don't know you anymore," she whispered to me. "You can't let Emily die just because she 'dissed' you. This isn't about not seeing her anymore. This is about keeping her alive... something you would do for a stranger if you could. I know you would."

"Not if said stranger was as cruel to me as my own daughter has been. There's no law that says I have to undergo a major surgery to save anyone's life, especially somebody who apparently hated me until they realized they absolutely needed my body part."

Melanie continued trying to change my mind throughout dinner. My phone had continued to ring and make text notification noises during my discussion with my wife.

"Aren't you going to answer any of those? You can't be a total coward and not tell Emily your decision," Melanie growled.

"Yes, I was planning to tell her, even though she didn't see fit to tell me anything about her wedding. I will at least respect her enough to tell her to... fuck off politely," I said.

"I can't believe you're not going to help her. I-I'm sorry I ever married a man as cold as you," she said.

"I'm sorry you feel that way. I'll miss you when you go," I said flatly.

After more than a decade of marriage, Melanie should have known better than to try to guilt me into anything... especially something that I wouldn't feel guilty about. We exchanged glares, and I think in that moment she realized that nothing she could say would make me change my mind.

"What?" I snarled as I turned away from my wife and answered my constantly ringing cell phone.

"Daddy? Are you going to help me, Daddy?" came the pitiful voice of Emily. "You haven't been answering any of my calls.

I know I'm not really the emotionless ogre both Emily and Melanie have accused me of being earlier that day, so I tried calming myself before answering again, especially since I wasn't going to give her the answer she so desperately needed.

"No, Emily, I'm not going to help you," I said quietly. "You've made my life miserable in the last 15 years, so I see no reason to go the extra mile to help you."

I heard the sobbing, and don't think it didn't hurt me, but after somebody sticks a knife in your chest you don't just remove it and hand it back to them so they can do it again. Sometimes you stop worrying about their welfare and turn and walk away.

"But you're my daddy. You have to help me," she cried piteously.

"Once upon a time I was your daddy, but that hasn't been true now for a long time. You replaced me with Harrison, and made sure I knew I was nothing more than just your sperm donor. It took a long time for me to accept that lesson, but I've learned it well. Do you actually expect me to believe you would have called me if you didn't need a kidney?"

There was nothing but sniffling and sobbing sounds coming through the phone for the next several seconds.

"I... I'm sorry, Daddy. Please," she pleaded.

"Sometimes 'I'm sorry' isn't enough, Emily."

I disconnected the call. My vision was blurred with tears. I saw Melanie glaring at me from across the room.

"Did that feel good? Getting some small, spiteful revenge on your own daughter?" she hissed. "I'm glad Oliver and Stephanie are living on their own now so they weren't here to hear that."

I turned my phone off, went up to my room and put on some gym clothes. My wife was puttering around the kitchen getting dinner started, I assumed. I told her not to make dinner for me because I was going out to lift, then I would grab some food for myself on the way home. She was in the middle of saying something when I went back out to my car and drove off.

I probably shouldn't have been surprised to see my ex-wife's Lexus parked in my driveway when I got back to the house about two hours later. I had an excellent workout thanks to needing to channel my anger, then I stopped off at a near-by Pizza Hut for a "Pepperoni Lover's" pizza that I carried out.

I marched into my house knowing full-well what was coming, but Gabe "Nice Guy" Gulliver wasn't in attendance for this meeting. The only person I needed to please anymore was the one holding the pizza box as I walked into my kitchen.

"You petty low-life bastard!" Donnatella shrieked at me as I set down my pizza on the kitchen table. "That's your daughter's life you're playing God with! Get your head out of your ass and do the right thing!"

"Like you did 15 years ago and have continued to do every day since," I responded flatly. "I don't take life lessons from a selfish slut."

Donnie's eyes were positively blazing with rage. I glanced at Melanie and could see she was in agreement with my ex.

"Okay. Okay," she said a little calmer. "Maybe I didn't exactly do right by you and ruined the girls' relationship with you, but you are still Emily's father and need to do right by her. It's what a good father should do..."

"And I would if she had still considered me her father... but that train left the station soon after the divorce," I asserted. "And the shit you two pulled at the wedding was done completely to affirm my place in her life, which was as nothing more than an acquaintance at best.

"You made it clear to me she didn't consider me her father... that she had replaced me with Harrison. Get my replacement to give her a kidney."

"Unlike you, he would gladly do that if he had the same blood type, but he doesn't..." she started.

"Boy that sure is unfortunate for her, then," I interrupted as I went to the refrigerator for a beer.

"Don't be a dick to her because you're mad at me," Donnie said, her voice breaking up as tears filled her eyes. "She was a kid when we divorced. It was easy for me to influence her... to turn her against you."

"Trust me, I haven't forgotten your part in turning the girls away from me. Hell, they knew you were having an affair with Harrison months before I did, and do you think one of my loyal daughters would have had the common decency to clue me in?

"But like you say, they were kids, so I tried my absolute best to keep some sort of relationship with them. They didn't remain kids, though, and even when they got to be old enough to think for themselves, they continued to disrespect me, to hate me.

"Emily is certainly old enough to make her own mind up about things, and one of those things she has made her mind up about is who she wants as a father, and who she doesn't want in her life... and that's her choice, and I learned to live with it despite the pain. But now that I have something she wants... something she desperately needs... suddenly she expects me to just roll over and give her another part of me. No, she along with you and Trish ripped my heart out of my chest. She can't have a kidney, too."

I took a bite of pizza. Melanie continued to glare at me silently while Donnie sobbed loudly for several long seconds.

"How can you be so heartless to your own child? She's dying... and you could save her," Donnie rasped.

"Emily hasn't been my daughter for a lot of years... and apparently, I wasn't a very good father to her when she was or else she couldn't have treated me so poorly. I guess that much is on me," I said.

"I won't be a hypocrite and give my kidney to someone who hates me just so I can regain a sliver of her love."

Donnie's mouth opened and closed several times while her brain tried to find the right words to get me to change my mind. I glanced quickly at Melanie, but she was smart enough to keep quiet at this moment. Maybe she realized she, too, wasn't high up on my list at this moment.

"I want to eat my pizza in peace now. Would you show my ex-wife the door please, Mel, and make sure it's locked when she leaves," I said.

"You're serious about not giving Emily a kidney and letting her die, aren't you?" Melanie asked quietly.

"Absolutely. Think about what I just told Donnie. Why would I give a kidney to someone who hates me? Doesn't matter to me if she's got my DNA. Me giving her a kidney would be like handing a gun to someone who wishes me dead. Why can't you see that?"

"Because she's family, you dumbass. She's not just some nobody off the street... but even if she was, I'd be upset. You just can't let someone die when you could help save her. You... can... help... save... her," Melanie said. "I was always taught that you are your brother's keeper."

"Yeah, well I was always taught not to be a schmuck," I responded. "When someone tells you they don't love you... and then shows you that they don't... they don't... and then helping them out anyway means you're a schmuck... not a good guy. And if you can't live with that, then I guess we're done."

Her mouth dropped open when I said the words.

"You're either with me or 'agin' me, as the old saying goes. This is the spot where you decide," I said. "Because it's not going to get any easier in the coming days.

"I'll understand if you choose my daughter's side of this argument, but you have to understand, if you do, we are done. I can't live with you second-guessing me on this."

In the meantime, I was being harassed by the members of my former family. When I didn't answer my phone, they started showing up at my office, as well as coming by my home again.

The morning after I had my ex-wife show up at my house, Emily herself was knocking on my door. I had to admit she looked like shit when I answered the door in my ratty bathrobe at 7 AM, but considering I hadn't even had my first cup of coffee yet, I was almost sure I didn't look too much better.

My heart went out to Emily despite my recent feelings. I invited her inside and went to start the morning coffee before going up to my room to put on some gym shorts and a T-shirt.

Melanie joined us at the kitchen table for what I think all three of us knew would be the toughest discussion of our lives.

Emily was smart, and I knew she figured that my refusing to give her a kidney would be a lot tougher face to face than it was on the phone. It was a good strategy; I have to admit. Looking into her eyes and telling her, in effect, that I was going to let her die, was heart-wrenching. I certainly didn't take any pleasure in doing it.

"How could you not help me? I'm your daughter. Don't you love me?" she wailed at one point in the discussion.

"To some point, I'll always love you... but that's my problem. For the most part, though, that love is gone. You killed it with your actions and your disrespect. I don't feel any more responsible for you than I would for a stranger...," I said.

"But I know you. I know you wouldn't hesitate to give a kidney to a stranger to help them. Why won't you give me that same courtesy?" she asked.

"Because unlike a random stranger on the street, you've gone out of your way to disrespect me and show me that you no longer love me," I answered. "I wouldn't give my kidney to a stranger who acted as poorly toward me as you have, so why would I give my kidney to you."

"I'm your daughter! You have to help me!" she shrieked while tears ran down her face.

"First off, neither one of us has considered you MY daughter for quite some time. And, legally, I don't have to help you. You are of legal age, so not my responsibility. I may have brought you into the world, but I have no responsibilities toward you anymore."

Melanie got up from her chair and went to Emily to give her a hug. She was crying as well. She still hadn't given me an answer as to whose side she was on, and I knew that Emily's face-to-face had given her more cause for hesitation.

I don't think any of us were expecting my former in-laws to show up at my house about an hour after Emily showed up. Obviously, they had been apprised of the situation as well as where I lived. We had a pretty solid relationship before and after the divorce, but I hadn't talked with either of them since Emily's wedding. They had never been to my house before, either.

"You can't let our granddaughter die when you have the power to save her," my father-in-law declared. "Time to stand up and do right for your family."

"My family is Melanie, Oliver and Stephanie. The daughters I used to have left me in the dust years ago," I explained. "They became Dr. Harry's kids completely, and let me know that I was nothing more than a sperm donor. That was their choice. Just because your granddaughter now needs something only I can provide doesn't change that fact, not one bit.

"You treat people how you would like to be treated. I tried to teach that when the girls were growing up, but apparently, I failed. Most times that failure wouldn't have come back to haunt them... but this time... you could say that Emily got hoisted on her own petard."

My ex-father-in-law growled but didn't come back at me, which told me he knew in his heart I had made a good point. Normally the man was a bulldog and would have kept arguing if he thought he was right.

My ex-mother-in-law was a completely different creature and was operating completely on emotion. Emily could have been a serial killer and still my mother-in-law would have been on her side. Maybe I'll understand how a grandparent thinks when Oliver and Stephanie start having children.

My in-laws left after a bit, but we were soon joined by Donnatella, Trish and Emily's husband, Greg. Obviously, Greg had a rooting interest in this outcome, but he hardly knew me, having met me for just a few minutes at his wedding three years ago. To him, I was practically The Invisible Man.

As usual, Donnie was her abrasive self to me... and I could see her continuing down this pathway was having a negative effect on Melanie, who was getting more defensive on my behalf the longer the argument went on.

At least Emily's husband realized his sway with me was minimal. He was very firm but polite as he advocated for his wife. That balanced out for Donnie and my younger daughter, who obviously believed, like her mother, that I could be bullied into submission. I don't believe she was really listening to me when I spoke because she just kept repeating her assertions, regardless of how I answered her.

Surprisingly, one person who was listening was my ex-wife's dick husband, Dr. Harry. We had spoken very little since that night in my house more than 15 years ago, but from listening to Donnie and the girls Harry figured out that I wasn't going to be bullied. Instead, he pulled out his very large wallet and tried to buy me.

The phone call came into my office four days after the Sunday gathering at my house. Harry--he hated when I called him that--asked me to meet him for lunch the next day at a high-end restaurant called Plato's Place... the kind where the lunch salads start at $25 and go up from there. I turned him down at first, figuring this was just another chance for my ex-wife to try to browbeat me into giving up a kidney.

"If you're worrying about paying, don't. I've got your meal," he said, the smugness practically dripping through the telephone line.

"I know I'm not in your financial stratosphere, Harry, but if you haven't been paying attention, I'm the senior partner in five stores now. My shoes don't have any holes in them," I said firmly, with little emotion.

"Uh... uhm... I didn't mean anything by that, Gabriel," he said. "I just really want to talk to you... alone... man to man. Donnatella won't be joining us for this meeting."

I agreed to meet him. Then I made sure that I had an off-duty police officer in plain clothes sitting at the bar to keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. Call me paranoid. I'd like to think of it as proactive.

Harry was already at a table, even though I got to Plato's five minutes early. He stuck his hand out in a gentlemanly gesture when I walked up to the table in one of my custom-tailored suits. I ignored the proffered hand.

"We're not friends or acquaintances. You're a scum-sucking lowlife who happens to be a very successful surgeon, from what I've been told. You stole my wife, then my family. Why don't you tell me why you wanted to meet," I said brusquely.

He winced at my description, but then his face lost its emotion completely. I knew he would be a cool customer. You don't get to be a top surgeon without steady hands and a good handle on your emotions under pressure.

"My oldest daughter is in desperate need of a kidney, and since you are her sperm donor and have the same blood type, there is a very good chance you would be a perfect match for a donation," he stated, his face somber. "But I understand that you are not predisposed to part with one of yours, in part because she has chosen to be my daughter as opposed to yours.

"I can understand your pain, so I am willing to compensate you handsomely for that kidney. Would $2 million encourage that donation?" he asked before he took a sip of the gin and tonic he had ordered with his lunch.

His eyes never left mine as I sipped my shot of Angel's Envy rye.

"I have to admit I am pleased that you consider my former children to be your own now... as opposed to just the proverbial red-headed stepchildren or the children of the woman you stole from another man," I said calmly.

"Of course I realize that should I accept your offer, that would just serve to make me look like a greedy bastard while you would get incredible kudos for spending all that money to save Emily's life.

"But this isn't about you and me, Harry. This is about decisions having consequences. The woman you proudly call daughter basically reneged on her love and respect for her biological father so she could live her life as a rich man's child... never figuring she would ever have a need to even treat her biological father like anyone who mattered ever again.

"Ah, but karma's a bitch, serendipity is a pretty woman, and 15 years later, her biological father does matter. Now I know my ex-wife and my ex-daughters think I'm being petty and small by not giving Emily a kidney, but I don't see it quite the same way. She chose to throw my love away. I was dead to her, so I'm just choosing to continue to stay dead to her. They say you can't get blood from a turnip... well, you can't get a kidney from a dead man, either.

"You can keep your money, Harry."

"Okay, take the money off the table, Gabriel. How about I appeal to you man to man, as a father. You've made it quite clear that you love... your other two children. I could put money into a trust account for them in exchange for the kidney. You could be a hero..."

"Look, Harry, I know you don't respect me because of how easily you took Donnie and the kids away from me all those years ago, but at least don't insult my intelligence. No matter how you want to phrase it, there's not going to be any exchange of money for my kidney... ever," I said.

"Damn it, Gabriel! We're talking about a human life here! My daughter's life! Your daughter's life! How can you be so cold?"

His raised voice attracted attention from virtually everybody in the restaurant. He didn't seem to notice as he was completely focused on his daughter, as I had been thinking of her, of both of my daughters, since Emily's wedding. In another life, I might have liked him. In this life, though, I still considered him a wife-stealing and child-stealing fuckhead. I would do nothing to help ease his pain.

He looked into my eyes and seemed to read my thoughts.

"So this is about you winning over Donnatella and me after all these years?" he rasped.

I honestly hadn't thought about it that way. I raised an index finger, indicating he should give me a moment to process.

I don't know how long I sat there thinking. I really hadn't thought about getting revenge on Donnie and Harry this way, although through the years I had thought of multiple scenarios. No, it all came down to the fact that I wasn't going to give a kidney to someone who could so easily rip my heart out. Emily was less than a stranger in my eyes. She was someone who willingly went out of her way to cause me pain: in effect, an enemy. You don't willingly help your enemies.

"Earth to Gabriel. What's going on in that brain of yours?" Harry asked.

"You won't believe me, but I hadn't given thought to that... until you said that. No, this isn't about you and Donnie. This is strictly about me not giving a kidney to somebody I see as harmful to my well-being: an enemy, if you will," I explained.

It was his turn to get reflective. I watched his jaw tense up.

"If it makes you feel better, I wouldn't give either of you or Trish my kidney either," I said.

"Oh, okay," he mumbled.

"Thanks for the drink. I don't think I'll stay for lunch."

I wound up getting a restraining order against both daughters, my ex-wife, Harry and my in-laws because of the constant harassment, both by phone and in person. The pleading got more unhinged the more Emily's condition worsened.

"I'm sorry, Daddy. I'm really sorry I treated you so badly," Emily pleaded over the phone.

"No, you're not sorry for mistreating me," I responded. "You're sorry I won't give you a kidney."

I hung up while she continued to sob.

After I got the restraining order, Donnie attempted to get Melanie to intercede on Emily's behalf, knowing that Melanie wasn't entirely comfortable with my decision not to help. Having already had this discussion, though, Melanie, wasn't about to jeopardize our marriage and refused to help.

Even though Melanie wasn't completely comfortable with my decision not to help Emily, our kids said they understood my feelings, which actually made Melanie feel a little better about my choice, and her choice to support me.

The restraining order made life much easier for me, even though some friends occasionally asked me about my decision not to help. I knew my ex-wife discussed the situation with everybody and anybody she encountered, and some of those friends felt entitled enough to weigh in. I had decided early on that I didn't need those people in my life anymore.

Melanie found Emily's obituary in the newspaper about eight months later, and asked if I was going to attend the funeral. She wasn't totally surprised when I responded in the negative.

"I know she wasn't a daughter to you for a long time, but she was once. Don't you need closure?" Melanie inquired.

"No. I'm good," I said sadly. "In my heart, both kids died on the day Emily got married. I grieved and then moved on. Fortunately for me, I had you, Oliver and Stephanie to help me get through it. I'll never be able to thank you guys enough."

Two days after the funeral, Donnie showed up at my home, in violation of the restraining order. I was more than a little surprised when I saw her standing on my porch when I answered the doorbell. She grabbed the storm door, opened it quickly and started raining blows down upon my face and chest while sobbing and yelling at me. She got in several good shots before I finally grabbed her fists of fury.

"You son of a bitch bastard!" she yelled at me as I held onto her from behind. "You killed Emily, you selfish bastard!"

By this point Melanie had joined us in the living room and I had passed a crumpled, weeping Donnie over to her.

"Why do you think you're blameless in this, Donnie?" I asked. "If anything, you started the ball rolling toward this conclusion when you ignored your vows and spread your legs for Harry because you wanted to trade up. Then you turned both girls against me. I get it that you never planned for kidney disease... but it wasn't right, and you did it anyway. As much as anyone, this is on you, Donnie."

She had stopped wailing for a few seconds while I explained. At first her mouth dropped open before she started to sob even harder than she was previously.

"No. No. No. I never meant for this to happen," she mumbled.

"I know," I said. "But none of you showed me an ounce of respect or love, figuring that you didn't have to show me even a shred of human decency. Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition, to quote Monty Python, so when the unthinkable happened, there was no answer. I haven't had even the slightest bit of trouble sleeping at night; I'd bet you can't say the same."

Donnie sobbed uncontrollably for several long seconds. I think she finally owned up to her culpability. Melanie wrapped her in a hug. I know as a mother she understood Donnie's anguish, but as my wife she also understood where I was coming from, even if it took her a while to completely see my side of it. Guided by Melanie, Donnie staggered to the front door, and left.

I never heard from any of my former family again. I didn't miss them.