Somewhere along the way I got lazy. I lost the edge my dad had raised me to have. Son of a bitch that he is, I can’t say he didn’t try to make up for it in his own way. I don’t think he expected to have me in his life for too long. My mistake was dropping my guard. His was getting attached.

When we’re at our lowest points in life, humans can get a bit desperate. A starving man may steal so that he can eat, someone dying of thirst may dig into the earth until their fingers bleed to find water. We pray to whoever will hear us in our darkest hours, and we’ll take any hand that reaches down to pull us up. My dad did just that somewhere in a desert fighting in a war no one should’ve fought in the first place. With his unit all but decimated and enemies closing in, he reached out for a miracle and was met instead with a bargain.

What is the price of a human life? What about the price of 13? It may surprise you to find out that whether it’s one or 100, the price is almost always a flat rate: a soul not your own. That of a loved one or one that is not yet known to you. The bargain struck was his life for that of his first born child. I don’t know what he saw pinned down by gun fire, he can’t rightly tell me what he saw either, but he does remember shaking the hand of something that made his blood boil in his veins. Within a matter of minutes, 13 men were slain and scattered to the wind, while one got to go home.

Here’s the thing about my father. From that day forward he said his luck was unbelievable. He was given a commendation for his “service”, came home to an abundance of opportunity, and somewhere along the way he met a woman. This is where dear old dad thought he could trick the devil. It wasn’t long after his return that he had a vasectomy. He made sure to make quick friends with his urologist, and had regular check ups to ensure his potential for having children was DOA. The woman didn’t mind and was happy to forgo a child to share in their love together for years and years to come. Old man was set for life.

Except two years after the wedding an unexpected surprise shook the very foundation of their love. Imagine his surprise when his wife wound up pregnant. He was beside himself. She was devastated because she had never even kissed another man, much less slept with one. But how could it be that she was with child when his line had been cut? Only the devil knows. I was their son without a doubt. I was a bargaining chip due.

My life should have been snuffed the moment I came into being. Perhaps some figure should’ve stolen me like a thief in the night. My father waited in agony for something, anything to happen to me. As he waited he grew close to me, as some fathers are want to do with their children. He raised me to be smart, measured, and strong. He was there for life’s milestones, my highs and my lows, and now he’s beaming at me on a pew as I await the love of my life to walk down the aisle.

When he told me what he’d done some time ago, I was dubious at first, shocked after that, and then livid to the point of violence. I got some good shots in on him. He didn’t resist. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything else but take his punishment. I left him a battered mess in his study. We didn’t talk for a time. Then I met her. I fell in love. We propped each other up, pushed one another to grow while offering each other comfort from the world around us. She helped me heal and was the catalyst for mending my relationship with my father.

He paid for the whole affair. He wouldn’t hear of her father for anything tradition be damned. If it weren’t for her detailed wedding book, I imagine he’d have planned the whole thing himself too. Thankfully he didn’t. His money is good but his taste is questionable. He’s smiling at me, tears welling up in his eyes. I’m smiling at him. A genuine smile with a fondness I’ve not felt for him a long time.

Now the wedding march. Everyone’s on their feet. The doors open and I’m stunned.

I’m frozen in place. Everyone around me has become wax statues with fixed features staring at the bride. I see her. I see it. I see my destiny decided for me long ago. It glides down the aisle with ease and snuffs out candles on the way. No one has moved or made any exclamations. They are a captive audience who may not even witness what is about to occur. Except for the man in the front pew. His tears flow down his cheeks without pause, a smile still plastered on his face.

It stands before me now and it looks like her, but I’ve already seen past the veil. It is here to hold up the agreement. I watch its lips part into a smile that could crack glass. It leans close to me. It whispers in my ear.

“To have and to hold, to love and cherish, till death—oh, no. I suppose that last bit doesn’t hold up here. You’re mine now…unless you would like to strike a bargain?”

A joke. A jest. It cackles as it takes me under.