“I am so sorry.” That’s all he ever says, to his daughter, to his girlfriend, to his boss, to his landlord, and to himself. To live in a dirt poor apartment, with walls reeking of mold from the rain that leaks through the roof, from the cigarette stained carpet that makes you wonder if he ever cleans his house. Does he ever clean his house? No, to work a stressful job, and pay the bills, pay the rent, take care of the daughter, take care of the girlfriend, to take care of dinner takes up his precious time, he doesn’t have time to clean, it’s unnecessary at this point.

“I am so sorry, Mike.” Mike, his boss, his source of income to pay the utility bills has fired him. He came late to work again. Why is he late to work you say? Because he has no money to pay for public transportation today, and he had to run two miles to work, covered in a sweat-soaked dress shirt that he found at the thrift store for $2.20, when you work under Mike, you cannot be late to work, and this was strike number three. He packs up the remnants of his desk, his picture frame, containing a picture of his precious Sophia. What will he say to Sophia when she comes home from school? “I’m sorry sweetheart, but I lost my job, so now I cannot buy you that Barbie doll that you have asked for your birthday.” No, it would break her fragile heart into a million pieces, he cannot tell her.

He opens up the apartment door, the moth-eaten drapes are covering frosted windows and it’s too dark and too quiet. Angela should be home right now, and so he turns on the living room light, and everything is in tact, but then he turns on the kitchen light, and there, lying on the linoleum floor is Angela. Her skin as pale and lifeless, her eyes, glassed over like a porcelain doll, in her left hand is an orange bottle of pills and in her right, clutched tight is a white stick, with a little, pink plus sign on it. He falls to the ground, head in his heads as he repeats over and over again, “I’m so sorry baby, I’m so sorry.” Sorry that he could never afford the pills to treat Angela’s depression, sorry that he could never get her a therapist to help her, sorry that he never had the time to make her happy again.

He calls 911, and the sits on linoleum floor with her cold hands in his; his stomachs sinks to the ground, as he watches the window form red flashing silhouettes and sounds of crying sirens. Men in uniform took away Angela and the baby, the baby that died because of him, because he couldn’t help Angela. The landlord comes in and tells that he needs to pack his bags and leave by tomorrow because he hasn’t paid the rent for three months. “I’m sorry sir, but I can barely earn enough money for my family and me to even eat.” But he couldn’t make anymore excuses, he ran out of them the day he ran out of joy that once filled his heart. So he packed his bags with clothes, and he packed up Sophia’s purple suitcase with her clothes and Angel, her stale teddy bear.

He picks up Sophia at school with both their bags in his hand and tells her that they are moving to a new place. They walk four blocks towards the rundown building that reeks of bleach and body odor, inside the building were men and women sipping hot water with donated blankets on their shoulders. “I’m sorry Sophie, but the landlord won’t let us live at home anymore, so this is our new home.” The homeless shelter is their new home, a home that smells of bleach and shame. Sophia cried for the first time in a long time, her soprano voice muted as she buried her head in her fathers chest looking for comfort. But he could no longer comfort Sophie, he let her down, he let Angela down, he let the landlord down, and he let his boss down, he lost the comfort in him. That night, they slept in springy cots that were so worn out the cold wooden floor would have been more comfortable. That night, Sophia went to sleep with salt-stained cheeks and a sniffling nose. That night, he didn’t sleep one wink; he let down too many people to sleep.

It was morning and he walked Sophia to school, they haven’t showered for three whole days and they started to smell like failure and embarrassment. The parents and children whispered rumors of their tragedy to each other. That day, Sophia came home without any hope, because her friends will not talk to her anymore, and the kids called her ‘Stinky Sophie’ all day at school. It was his fault that Sophie had to suffer the cruel wrath of school children. It was also the day that the child protection services had visited him; they offered Sophie a better home with strangers in the suburbs near the school. It was his only chance to make Sophie happier, to give her a home where someone could actually take care of her. That day, he gave up the only thing he had left in his life, he gave away his daughter, his everything, and now he is nothing. She kicked, and screamed, and shouted to the people who came to take her away, and all he did was tell her “I’m sorry Sophie, it for the better…” He kissed her on the forehead and put Angel in her arms and told her it was going to be alright, he would come and visit her often. She left that day, and he cried dry tears of sorrow, there was nothing he could do, he was a failure.

It was four o’clock in the morning and the sun was still sleeping and the moon was still awake in the sky. The city was still asleep, and yet he was the only one awake. He walked across the bridge and watched the stars laugh and shine with glee, the trees swaying to the song of the whispering wind, the ocean beneath him chanting with promises of happiness. He walked closer to the ocean, and listened to their sweet nothings and their beckoning cries to come and join him. He had nothing to lose; he had no family, no money, no job, and no future. The ocean’s siren call seduced his ears to come and join him. So he held onto the ledge and pulled himself onto the edge to hear the ocean speak once again. He closed his eyes and jumped. Falling into the ocean’s hungry mouth and sinking the bottom of the pitch black depths. It was only then that he remembered that he still had a daughter. A daughter that would wake up in a couple of hours to go to school and look forward to visiting her daddy at the homeless shelter. A daughter that would find out that he disappeared last night. A daughter that would find out that her fathers lifeless body would be washed upon the shore in the newspaper. A daughter that would be truly all alone in this cruel, harsh world. It was with that last thought that his heart sunk to the bottom of his body as it sunk into the open arms of the seaweed lurking the deep depths of the ocean. It was with that last thought that he told the world “I’m sorry.”