Part 1: The Desk and the Tablet
My wife walked out on me and our seven children to live in luxury with my wealthy best friend. I never wanted revenge, not even when she came back ten years later. But when she screamed at our youngest daughter for standing up to her, I knew it was time to teach her a lesson she would never forget.
I’m Daniel, 53, and for the past ten years I’ve raised seven children on my own.
I repaired furniture for a living. We weren’t rich, but our seven kids had everything they needed.
My ex-wife Vanessa wanted more.
“That woman’s handbag costs more than our refrigerator,” she complained.
“Then let’s hope it keeps her groceries cold.”
“Everything’s a joke to you, Daniel.”
“Not everything.”
“Look at Rob. New car, expensive vacations. Why can’t we live like that?”
“Rob doesn’t have seven children.”
“There’s always an excuse.”
Rob was my best friend. I had even given him a spare key to our house. I mended broken furniture for a living, believing nearly anything deserved a second chance.
I was wrong about some things.
Ten years ago, a canceled appointment sent me home early. I heard voices upstairs. When I opened our bedroom door, Vanessa and Rob were together.
“Daniel!” Rob jumped backward.
My ex-wife barely moved.
“How long?” I demanded.
“Don’t make a scene.”
“With my best friend? In our bedroom?”
“Maybe you should ask why I needed someone else.”
“Daniel, buddy…” Rob began.
“Don’t call me buddy.”
Vanessa crossed her arms. “I deserved a better life, Daniel. Rob understands what I want.
“What about our seven children? Sophie just turned two!”
“I’m tired of changing diapers while you barely pay the bills!”
She had already flown to the Maldives with Rob, telling everyone she was visiting her sister.
“So you’re leaving?”
“Yes.”
“And the kids?”
“You’ll manage.”
While she packed, I tried one more time.
“Sophie still sleeps holding your sweater.”
“Then give her another blanket.”
She wasn’t only leaving me. She was abandoning our children.
That first night, Sophie cried until sunrise.
“Daddy, where’s Mommy?”
“She’s not coming home tonight, sweetheart.”
“Tomorrow?”
I couldn’t answer.
Our oldest daughter, Rachel, was sixteen then. She found me sitting on the kitchen floor.
“Dad, are we going to be okay?”
“Absolutely.”
“You don’t sound sure.”
“Then I’ll keep saying it until I do.”
I repaired furniture in the mornings, stocked shelves at night, and made deliveries on weekends. Rachel helped with breakfast, Nathan with homework, and the younger kids looked after Sophie.
One evening, Sophie asked, “Did Mommy leave because I cried too much?”
“Nothing you did made her leave, sweetheart.”
“Even when I was naughty?”
“Especially then.”
“Did Mom ask about us?” Rachel asked.
“Sometimes. I send her pictures.”
“Does she ever answer?”
“Not anymore.”
“Why don’t you tell her what you think?”
“Because you’ve already been hurt enough.”
“Dad, you need to move on. Find yourself a girlfriend. You deserve to be happy, too.”
“With seven kids? I’d need to put up a warning sign.”
“Dad!” Rachel laughed.
“I’m kidding, sweetheart. I’m happy right here with you.”
Still, I went on a few dates. But as soon as women learned I had seven children, they quickly lost interest. I never remarried.
Instead, I threw myself into my work, and the kids found ways to pitch in.
“Dad, I’ll photograph your furniture,” Rachel offered.
“And I’ll build you a website,” Nathan added.
“Will that bring customers?”
“Only if your chairs stop looking haunted.”
They did. In time, I opened my own workshop.
I made something special for every birthday. For Sophie’s twelfth, I restored an old wooden desk she’d been wanting for months.
“You’re still worried she won’t like it?” Rachel asked.
“She wanted a tablet, too. I couldn’t afford both.”
“Dad, she’s been talking about that desk for weeks.”
“But a tablet would’ve cost more.”
“So? Since when does the price decide how special a gift is?”
I smiled. She had a point.
By the next evening, that tablet would be the least important thing in our house.
Sophie’s birthday barbecue was wonderful. All seven children came home, along with her school friends and a few neighbors.
When she unwrapped the desk, she screamed.
“DAD! YOU FINISHED IT!”
“Unless you’d prefer another pair of socks.”
She hugged me so hard I nearly toppled over. “This is better than the tablet!”
“You don’t have to say that.”
“I’m not saying it for you!”
“Can we put it in my room tonight?” Sophie asked.
“After the party.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
She grinned. “Then I’ll do my homework at it tomorrow. Even math.”
“Now that’s a serious compliment.”
Then someone knocked. I opened the front door.
Vanessa stood on the porch in a cream designer coat and enormous sunglasses. Rob was behind her, holding several shopping bags. “Daniel! Surprise!”
“How did you know about the party?”
“Rachel posted about it. I thought it was time for a reunion.”
“After ten years?”
“People change. Besides, everyone loves a good reunion story.”
“What do you want, Vanessa?”
“To visit my daughter. Surely that’s allowed.”
“You haven’t visited her in ten years.”
“Must we discuss that on her birthday?”
She brushed past me.
“Goodness, you still have the same furniture!”
“Some of us like keeping things.”
“Rob, bring the presents.”
Sophie came out of the kitchen carrying cake. She froze. “Mom?”
Vanessa smiled. “Hello, sweetheart!”
For several seconds, Sophie couldn’t speak. Then Vanessa hugged her awkwardly. “Look how beautiful you’ve become! You have my eyes.”
“You haven’t seen me since I was two.”
“Well, life gets complicated.”
Sophie glanced at the shopping bags. “Are you staying for my birthday?”
“Of course, sweetheart!”
“For the whole party?”
Vanessa smiled. “We’ll see.”
Sophie nodded, trying to hide her disappointment.
“Will you come back tomorrow?” Sophie asked.
“Let’s not make plans yet, darling.”
“But you know where we live now.”
“Of course I do.”
Sophie looked at me, then quietly stepped aside.
Rob wheeled in a new bicycle while Vanessa handed Sophie a wrapped tablet.
“Thank you,” Sophie whispered.
“See? Mommy knows what you deserve. I can finally give you what your father couldn’t.”
“Vanessa, enough,” I warned.
Sophie looked at her desk. “Dad made that for me.”
“That’s sweet. But now you have something better.”
“Better?”
“Something you actually deserve.”
Sophie’s smile disappeared. She reached for her phone.
“Mom, can I show you something I found online?”
