Robert's Lament

There comes a time in your life when everything seems to fall into place. That dream you have been working hard to achieve, but my dream turned into a nightmare.

My name is Bobby Snow, and my story begins a couple of years ago;

a week before my 30th birthday to be exact. I was born in the bustling, cold lonely

city of New York. The Big Apple, whose slogan is if you make it here, you can

make it anywhere. I was starting to feel like the pit from that rotted apple

because my goal to live under the bright sun-palmed sky of Miami, Florida by

the time I was 30 seemed to be eluding me day by day. Once a week, I wake up

early and head down to the travel agency to see if there are any cheap flights

going to Florida. Earlier today was no exception. A great sadness came over me

as I was staring intensely at the travel agency’s glass door with the posters

of sunny Florida for $125.00 on American Airlines.  The American Airline

plane flying over the sunny shore representing the American dreams flying away

from me.

Maria, the

travel agent, taps on the glass window and signals me to enter. I am halfway

through the door when Maria happily calls out, “Bobby, thank God you came

today. I've been trying to call you for the last couple of days, but I kept

getting a recording that your number is disconnected.” 

"Yeah,"

I sadly reply, “I couldn’t afford to keep the cell phone on anymore." 

“We have a

special sale on Spirit Airlines,” Maria says. “$20.21 going to Florida.” 

“$20.21?"

I question her, not believing what I had just heard. 

“Yes, but the

sale only lasts till tomorrow,” she says.

I knew it was

too good to be true. Taking my wallet out, I happily notice that I have $44.

The last of the money I have left till payday. How do I tell Isabella that I am

leaving for Florida the day after my birthday? If I want my dream to come true,

I have to sacrifice something important or precious to stimulate my growth. I

have to tell her.....she deserves it.

"Bobby?.....BOBBY!!"

The voice of

my high school sweetheart, Isabella, snaps me out of my deep thoughts. We are

having dinner at Johnny's Pizzeria. She scrunches her eyebrows together and

asks, “Bobby, is everything ok? You zoned out on me again. You've been picking

at that slice of pizza for the last 5 minutes.”

Whenever Isabella scrunches her eyebrows together it means that

she is worried or concerned about me.  

“If you keep scrunching your eyebrows together like that you are

going to give yourself wrinkles,” I respond.  

“I wouldn’t get wrinkles if I weren’t worried about you all the

time," she laughs. "So, what is it now?"

I let out a deep sigh. “You know what it is,” I muttered, while

picking pieces of pepperoni off my pizza and popping them into my mouth.

“You should be happy, next week will be your birthday. The Big

Three Oh…. you still have time to follow your dreams. It’s not as if the world

is going to end when you become 30,” she says.

I angrily replied, “I know that it won’t end, but it feels like

that to me. You know I love you. I would love nothing better than for us to

live together, but I live in a one-bedroom roach infested apartment in the

Bronx project complex. There is always something going on at that building. The

elevator’s constantly breaking down. The stairwells and hallways full of

garbage thrown all over the place. Vicious drugged-out gang members hiding

about waiting to paint the white walls crimson red from the blood of their

latest victim. Puddles of animal urine or feces you must side-step or jump over

to get to the other side.”

I am temporarily distracted by a commercial on the pizzeria's

television. It's a Spirit Airlines ad, offering discount flights to Florida.

The images of palm trees and beaches bring me a very brief glimmer of hope

before the commercial ends, and I am pulled back into reality.

“There is nothing here for me. I am stuck in a dead-end job, washing

dishes, and delivering food at Wang’s Chinese takeout. I cannot find any other

job out here. No one is hiring. I have two years of college. I worked hard to

get a college degree. I also have certificates in Hotel Management and Computer

Science. They are worthless as the paper they are written on. I have sent

countless resumes out and I still cannot get a decent job. I love you, ‘Bel,

but I can’t even take you out to a decent place.” 

Isabella reaches out for my hand, as I push the half-eaten slice

away in disgust. 

“You deserve better than having pizza for dinner," I say,

while standing up. “I’ll be back, I’m going to go wash my face. “

Tears flowed down my face as I stared at my miserable reflection

in the bathroom mirror. What new disappointments will the future bring? How

long will Isabella stand being with a loser like me? Washing the shame off my

face, I do not know how I will do this.

Returning to the table, Isabella stares at me as a blue envelope

sits on the table waiting for me. “What’s this?” I ask her.

“It’s an early birthday gift. Maybe it will cheer you up,"

she says to me, with a devilish smile on her face. 

The card shows a big bear throwing a ball at his son, who is

holding a bat which reads “Happy Birthday, Daddy". Then a picture falls

out of the card showing the sonogram image of a baby.   

“That is an image of your son.... our son.” Isabella smiles at me.

“Surprise! I am pregnant. I’ve known for a while but have not found a right

time or way to tell you till now.”

Instead of feeling happy, I felt as if the rug had been pulled

from under me. Another obstacle to my future. I love Isabella, but what kind of

life can I give her and the baby? 

“Isabella," I say. "This is it. I cannot do this

anymore. We are through. I have nothing left to give. How do you expect me to

take care of you and the baby if I can’t even take care of myself? I am leaving

New York to try to make it in Florida. I bought the plane ticket today.”

“You do not have to sacrifice everything to achieve your goal!”

yells Isabella, as tears fall down her face. 

"I am

just trying to save you from making a mistake that you will regret in the long

run," I shot back. "I do not want you and our son to suffer like I

did." 

“Well, I hope you find all that you are searching for!” Isabella

screams, before storming out of the pizzeria.

Another travel ad about Florida pops up on the TV. "It's going

to be worth it," I say to myself. "It has to be...." 

The next day there is a knock on my door. 

“Hello, are you Mr. Snow,” said a pale mousy looking man. 

Not really in the mood for company, I ask, "What do you want?"

“I am Mr. Gilbert; I am the lawyer to your grandmother,

Katerina," he says. “I have some bad news. She died of a heart attack. As

heir to her estate you need to come to my office to sign some papers and

discuss your inheritance.”

“I think you are mistaken. I do not know anyone named Katerina,” I

mutter.

“She is your father’s mother," he continued. "Your

mother loved your father, but your father left her pregnant. He thought that he

could find a better future in Florida. He died there broke and alone. Your

grandmother tried to contact you, but your mother prohibited her from seeing

you. Believe me, she tried. “

Mr. Gilbert hands me a stack of letters with the words

"return to sender" written on them in my mother’s handwriting. “She

tried to write to you, but your mother kept sending the letters back. There is

more we need to discuss, so how does three o’clock tomorrow sound?”

"Sure,” I respond. “I will see you then.”

After hours of reading my grandmother’s letters, I started to tear

up as I realized that my father had a dream. Just like I have mine. He went

after his dream but failed. I know that I will go after mine and succeed. I must

succeed for Isabella, for our child but mostly for myself.

The next day I head to Mr. Gilbert’s office with a new hope for

the future.  

“Good afternoon, Mr. Snow," he says. "As I told you

yesterday, you are the sole heir to your grandmother’s estate. She left you

$100,000 dollars. I need you to sign these papers so I can release the funds to

you." I fill out the forms and have Isabella and my unborn son as the

beneficiaries if something were to happen to me. I rise to leave when Mr.

Gilbert hands me an envelope. “This is for you also. I don’t know what it says,

but I hope it answers any questions you may have.”

I dash home, barely able to contain myself, both in anticipation

and fear of what the letter might say. I run up the stairs, skipping steps as I

go up. I burst through my door, not even bothering to close it behind me before

plopping down on my worn-out couch. Tearing open the envelope, I pull out the

letter. I close my eyes and take what seemed like the deepest breath I will

ever take, and then I read:

"Dear Son,

I hope that you are well. I know that if you are reading this

letter, then I am dead and gone. I wrote this letter to let you know that I did

not leave for Florida to run away from my responsibilities to you. I left

because I love you and your mother, and I wanted a better future for us. It is

hard here in Florida. No friends nor family. I am trying the best in this life

to give you something. To give your mother something. I will sacrifice anything

for you, but I had to leave to find something. I had nothing to give you or

offer you had I stayed in New York. I love you and hope your life turns out

better than mine.

Love your dad, Robert Snow."

Tears roll down my eyes, as the letter falls out of my hands. He

was just like me, looking for a better future; a way to improve our situation,

but instead he found that there was nothing out there for him. No future. No

hope. As my grandma wrote in her letters, he went from one dead end job to

another, trying to help. The little money he could spare, he sent to us. Mom

rejected any of his help, but grandma ever the wise woman, invested it in the

stock market and placed all the money in the bank. 

I grab a small pad and write a small letter to Isabella:

"Bel, always know that I love you. You and our son deserve a

better future. Turns out Florida is no longer an option for me. With New York

killing me day by day, I may as well finish the job. I am no use to either of

you alive anyway. The letter my father left me will explain everything. I am

sorry. I love you."

I grab the gun I had bought for protection and place it at my

temple, slowly pulling the trigger.