Sunday, spring 2009.
Since both me and Leighton were impressed by the time march and the death that waits for all Sims, we married just a couple days after our not so romantic family dinner. It wasn’t like we had much to do, like organizing the guests list, buying a bride’s dress or even hiring a buffet. It just didn’t seem right to trow a party so soon after Yumi’s death. I guess I’ll regret starting the marriage in such a low-profile way. But, maybe, we can still properly celebrate it within a few months without being disrespectful to Yumi’s memory.
We exchanged our rings and vowels in my garden. While the sun was setting down above us, I promised Leighton to raise our kids to respect honor, family and companionship and to be able to understand his feeling and motivations. By his side, he promised to help me building my dream house and dream family and to never ever hide a secret from me. Again.
I confess I chose to ignore the again part of the sentence. I didn’t consider hiding a secret the fact that he didn’t call me to inform about his mother’s death. He had been busy, I had been busy. He had been mourning and, apart from preventing us to have a great marriage party, the death itself hadn’t cause me any inconvenience or discomfort. Of course I would like to meet Yumi, but I guess a divorced grandmother could end showing not so well on the family’s portrait. If we wish to make amends and right the wrongs our ancestors committed, it’s better this way: just Leighton and me and no one else in the world. Only the present and the future matter.
And then we had so much to do that night… We had to debut our new house. Leighton hadn’t seen it, since he spend the last days dealing with his mothers’ papers as well as the ones needed to our marriage. Thanks to the state bureaucracy, I didn’t have to discuss the moving matter with Leighton. He was so tired and absorbed by documents requirements that it was easy to make him agree – without thinking – that he should move in with me. He even gave me his saving account data so I could draw some money and make the rebuilding I judged necessary for our life together. I was anxious to show him my creation: I had managed to hire some building company that guaranteed to built a new kitchen and a new bedroom within a few days. Thanks to some kind of new technology with cement blocks and ready-made room’s molds, they really did it and it was amazing…
Everything was going well, so why would I discuss such an insignificant matter as a misuse of the word again?
The fact is… not everything was going so well. Yes, we both want a perfect family and most of our past connections are lost to the afterlife or the hackers’ secret stashes. Most of them, but not all. Most of them, but not one. One that make the world being not just Leighton and me, but Leighton, me and somebody else. Sam. Sam Sekemoto. Hearing – and misunderstanding – the word again had never been so painful…
When I woke from our nuptial night, I was feeling dizzy and had to ran to the toilet thanks to an unexpected nausea. It was due our next generation already cooking, but it could had well been from the news I was going to get for breakfast. Sam was Leighton’s son. Leighton had kept it secret fearing I wouldn’t marry him. He couldn’t live neither without me or without his beloved son. Sam. Result of a drunken night after high school graduation, but still a loved result. I didn’t want to hear a word. I didn’t want to know about the details of his high school girlfriend or how he ended alone in Sunset Valley raising his child.
I didn’t and I couldn’t… a terrible nausea wave had just hit me once more.