I Pick You

by Jettie Woodruff

  “It’s after eleven.”

  “I know. I’ll see you in the morning, babe.”

  “Okay…Brantley?”

  I read the shaky tone and immediately wished she was there with me. “Yeah?”

  “I just wanted to say thank you again. Even though our weekend ended like this, I’m still astounded that you took me. Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you.”

  “Do you want to come here?”

  “Can I?”

  “Of course. Get your ass over here.”

  “I’ll be there in ten.”

  A half grin formed on my face. “Bay’s sleeping between us.”

  “I’m cool with that. I love you.”

  “I love you, too. I’ll see you in a few.”

  I looked to the clock and then toward the Pierce’s house, unable to see one window. I could see the light at the peak of their roof, but that was it.

  Paxton answered Gabriella’s phone with a gruff tone. “Hello.”

  “Hey, Paxton. It’s Brantley.”

  “Yeah, I saw that. What do you want? It’s late.”

  “Have you heard about Simon?”

  “Simon? Am I supposed to know who that is?”

  “He’s in my class. Was. He died this morning and I thought maybe you and Gabby would like to tell Rowan yourselves, in your own way.”

  A long pause silenced the call, but I didn’t speak. I waited for him to gather his bearings. “Jesus. What happened?”

  “He was shot in the head. A gun accident. I haven’t bothered to get the exact details yet. I’m not even sure I want to know.”

  I could hear Gabriella in the back ground demanding answers. “Yeah, thanks for calling. I hadn’t heard. I’m not sure Rowan will be there tomorrow.”

  “Totally get it. I’ll see ya later.”

  “Thanks for calling, Brantley.”

  “Yup, you bet.”

  I’m not sure I slept all night, and I’m pretty sure Rydell slept just about as much. My baby girl slept between us for awhile, Rydell’s hand on her back and mine covering hers until I pulled her to me. Rydell laid across my body and I held her tight, kissing her hair, but not speaking. Not with words. We spoke a silent language, both trying to grasp this horrible ordeal neither of us knew how to deal with.

  “Did you sleep at all?” Rydell questioned, when I shut the alarm off before it ever rang.

  “Not at all. I don’t want to go. Let’s call in sick.”

  Rydell sat up, rubbing her eyes with a yawn. “We can’t. Want to shower with me?”

  “Sure,” I said, while I looked to the clock and then to Bay with a puzzled expression. Her feet stuck out from the covers, resting on her pillow while her head lay on Phil. Maybe I did sleep. Her shirt was on the floor and her pants were pulled past her knees.

  Rydell laughed, spun her body by an arm and an ankle, covering her with the comforter. Of course Bay didn’t blink an eye. Her hand searched the bed in a dead sleep while I tossed her Phil, knowing exactly what she wanted. Her security.

  The dread of facing the day was easier with Rydell there, and even though I hadn’t planned on it, I backed her against the shower tile. We kissed while her legs wrapped around my waist and I slid into her. Mourning sex was not the same as morning sex. We shared something in that moment, both feeling the dismay ahead.

  “I have a confession,” Rydell admitted, while her hips rocked back and forth on mine.

  “I don’t know if I’m up for confessions right now. Maybe you better tell Father Don

  and not me.”

  She laughed and kissed me again. “I didn’t want Simon. I made Olivia trade out Simon for Lucy Gault.”

  “You bitch,” I teased.

  “I know, and now I feel horribly guilty.”

  “You shouldn’t feel guilty. I’m glad I had him. I mean how would I ever know that ‘Stewardesses’ is the longest word that is typed with only the left hand if I hadn’t had the pleasure of Harry Potter in my class?”

  “I love you, Brantley. I’m glad you came here.”

  “Me, too, now hurry up. We have to go to school.”

  Rydell dressed Bay and then fed her apple sauce and toast from the backseat, and I’m not sure she was awake then, either. Her eyes remained closed, but her mouth opened every time Rydell said the word, “bite”. At least one of us slept. Tiredness blended with all the other screwed up emotions I felt while I drove Bay to day care. God, I didn’t want to do this.

  I was sure school would never be the same again, and listening to Father Don explain to my kids about God having other plans for Simon pissed me off. I didn’t believe that bullshit for one second. Simon was dead because of an irresponsible parent. That’s why. Needless to say, I knew his way calmed the class more than my way would have. It was a senseless accident that didn’t have to happen. He should have been there, annoying the hell out of me with useless, yet interesting facts I never knew. Like there being thirty-eight-thousand species of spiders, snakes can’t close their eyes, Colonel Sanders had dozens of jobs before opening the first KFC at the age of sixty-five, six months before the Challenger disaster a lone engineer told his superiors about the O-Ring problem, a reservoir of water three times the volume of all the oceans is located deep beneath the Earth's surface. I stopped calling his bluff by the third day of school. Simon was full of interesting facts, and I would listen to them all day long if I could just have him back.

  My eyes shifted around the room, landing on Rowan engaged in every word Father Don spoke, and then to Gabriella’s in the back of the room. Gabby wasn’t the only mother there to support their children, there were four more, including Danny DeVito’s mom. I hadn’t met her yet. She was a busy brain surgeon, and her short, pudgy father was the one who took care of school. I found myself wondering how the little man landed a gorgeous doctor, rather than paying attention to Father Don’s assumptions on Simon being happy now, looking down on us from above.

  I snorted aloud, my eyes shifting to his when he told the class he was probably whistling a song while fishing in a beautiful pond surrounded by pretty flowers.

  “Mr. J? Did you have something to add?”

  I looked to my class who knew Simon way better than Father Don. “I just don’t think Simon is fishing.”

  His eyebrows rose to the ceiling and all eyes, including the mothers, were on me. “Excuse me?”

  “I don’t think Simon is fishing. Am I right, class? Rowan, what do you think Simon is doing?”

  Rowan knew him. “Reading a book.”

  “Exactly,” I said, as I pointed to Tori Spelling. “Kayla, what about you? Do you think Simon is fishing?”

  Kayla smiled a shy smile and shook her head. “I think he’s asking God if he can tell him something.”

  “Me, too. Brady, what do you think?”

  That’s what we did instead of listening to Father Don’s take on Heaven. If there was such a place, I was sure Harry Potter wasn’t fishing. We went around the room, making our own assumptions of what we knew Simon would be doing. It wasn’t fishing. One kid even said he was probably telling someone else how to fish, what bait works the best, and how to catch the biggest fish. That was more like it.

  As hard as it was to see his empty desk, we made it through the day, and then another, and then a funeral. Quite possibly the hardest day of my life. I learned things by osmosis because my little Harry Potter wasn’t there to give me the facts. Vigil service, funeral liturgy, and rite of committal. Back home we had calling hours and then a grave side service. Catholic funerals were longer than non-Catholic, at least in the case of my grandmothers. I hadn’t been to any other ones to compare it with and I didn’t want to; especially a child’s funeral.

  I walked outside while the congregation gathered for tea and sandwiches, needing air more than hot tea.

  “You doing okay, cowboy?” Rydell asked, with a bump to my shoulder.

  “Yeah, just sucks, ya know?” I questioned, while pulling her into my body. I kissed
her hair and told her again how nice she looked. She did look nice. Conservative nice like Kit, not sexy nice. The internal frown was instant when I realized I had just compared her looks to Kit. Why? Why did I keep getting these bits of images of Kit? I didn’t even know if Kit dressed conservatively. It made zero sense. Regardless, I shook it off, again…

  “Let’s go get Bay and go to Myron’s for Mexican.”

  I looked over to Rydell and then to Crystal’s scrunched up face. She gave me a dirty look and walked down the concrete steps. “She hates you,” I teased.

  “She hates you,” Rydell retorted, with more of the truth.

  “Let’s go. Chicken quesadilla sounds amazing. I’m so ready to get the hell out of here.”

  Rydell volunteered to go get Bay from the nursery when my phone rang. I have no idea why, but I answered it. Maybe the fact of not being promised another day softened my heart a little, maybe I was just tired of hating her.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  “Hi, baby. I’m so sorry you’re going through this. Bridgette told me what happened. That’s horrible.”

  “Thanks, and yes, it is. It’s so unfair.” I was beginning to sound like a broken record. It was unfair. Life was unfair, and I didn’t understand the point in it anymore. Daddies leave, mommies go to prison, grandmother’s die from cancer, and little boys died. What a cruel joke.

  I talked to my mother without being a dick, without hanging up on her, and for the first time in a long time, without wanting her to go away. I was still angry, and I was sure I would always carry that, but I could forgive her, and I wanted to. That was the shocker that got me, the one that I didn’t understand. Life sucked. Life was hard, but I knew firsthand how it could all be taken away. I wasn’t sure I could carry the guilt of never forgiving her if she were to be taken in an instant like Simon had been. I didn’t want to try. Tomorrow wasn’t promised, not to me, not to her, and not to Harry Potter.

  Chapter-Twenty-Five

  Simon’s desk was retired and placed in a corner of the lunch room where it was covered by a white cloth and a crystal vase; fresh flowers added daily. I did, however, get a scholarship kid, against my will. I didn’t want a new kid taking his place. Nobody would ever take his place. That was the truth. Simon Worthington was a once in a lifetime, never to be replaced. However, Mrs. Day didn’t see it my way. I got Honey Boo-Boo. Mean Honey Boo-Boo. I was half afraid of Darla Mills, and Harry Potter’s annoyance had nothing on this girl. At least he didn’t pick his nose on a continuous basis. Needless to say, life carried on. We got through the Christmas play by winging it and with the help of Miss Brinkley. Thank God.

  Christmas Eve morning was spent shoveling horse shit with Rydell and Bay. I’m sure I was the only one grossed out about the dirty duty. Bay was having the time of her life, using her brand new red, plastic shovel that Rydell had let her open early. She grunted and dumped her load into the toy wheelbarrow the exact same way Rydell did. Had it been anything but horse shit, I may have found it cute. Okay, it was cute, but still.

  Once the barn was cleaned, we spread red cloths over picnic tables, centering poinsettias in the middle of each one. Sort of. Bay insisted they go on the end, and moved them all at least five times. The last few weeks were tough, and I was ready to have some fun, play some music, and drink a little Christmas punch. I loved Rydell’s family, and the closeness of them all. I may not ever have that with my family, but I knew as long as I was with Rydell, I’d have it with hers. They welcomed me like I was one of their own. Even her dad who had threatened to cut my nuts off if I hurt her. Just like her brother, Rick was tougher on the outside than he was on the inside. He wasn’t a mean man at all, but he no doubt could be to protect her. Even I was smart enough to know that.

  I smiled with joy while I watched Bay open her gift exchange, and then I lost it. That quick. Rydell instantly sensed it and walked to my side. “Just let it go. We’ll take it away from her when we leave here. It’s just a rubber dart, Brantley.”

  “Why would someone buy her a toy gun. Is this a fucked up joke?”

  Rydell shoved me backwards away from her joyful family. “Stop. She didn’t mean anything by it. We grew up with guns, and nobody ever got shot. Guns don’t kill people, people kill people. I get it, I know where you’re coming from, and we’ll take it away from her. Later. Not now. Please don’t turn this into something it’s not. It’s just a toy.”

  I let it go because I didn’t want to cause a scene, but I was still pissed. My kid would never play with guns. Ever, and that thing would be broken into pieces as soon as I had it in my hands. “Fine, but how stupid can you be?”

  “Brantley, stop. You didn’t play with toy guns growing up?”

  “Yes, in a different time than we live in now. They should be outlawed.”

  Rydell took a deep, exasperated breath and pursed her mouth into duck lips. “Are you done, or you planning on being a dick about it for the rest of the night?”

  “Seriously? You don’t think I have a right to be upset because someone bought my daughter a toy gun after what just happened to Simon?”

  “Would you be this upset if Simon was still with us?”

  I had to think about that one before responding. “Let’s just go play some music. I’m taking it as soon as she lays it down.”

  “I’m fine with that. You’re not leaving here to be home by eight are you?”

  “No, I’ve already told Kit we had a thing. I just have to be there to call her when Bay wakes up.”

  Rydell didn’t comment, but I could tell by the deep breath and the way she walked away that she didn’t like that anymore than an early departure. I couldn’t really do anything about that, though. Kit sent Bay several boxes from Amazon, which I had to wrap myself. Well, maybe Rydell did the wrapping, but that was beside the point. Kit bought them and she had a right to watch her open them.

  For the first time since I decided to be stupid and fall in love, I felt like things were strained between us, and I knew Kit caused tension. There just wasn’t much I could do about it. Kit was her mother and Kit would always be in our lives.

  The night was salvaged with some good old country music. Rydell and I sang Christmas songs with the rest of her musically talented family while Bay ran around like she was one of the big kids. We’d just finished singing, Rocking Around The Christmas Tree when Rydell’s dad told me a story about Rydell and that song. Her and her high school band gathered around the tree and played Christmas songs. A small tradition ever since.

  “Daddy.”

  I ignored Bay pulling on my arm and listened to the story.

  Of course, Bay didn’t really work that way. “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy.”

  “What, Bay? You’re not being very polite. You have to—.”

  “I pee.”

  “Yes, yes you did. You’re supposed to tell me before you go.”

  “My mommy go?”

  “You ready to go home?”

  “S, my mommy go?”

  “We’re going to call Mommy when we wake up. Come on. Let’s go find some dry clothes.”

  After thanking everyone for the good time, wishing them a merry Christmas, and saying goodbye, Rydell and I walked toward the house. I carried Bay away from me toward Rydell’s childhood home, realizing she planned to go home with me. I hadn’t thought about that. I mean, she often stayed, but this was Christmas. I sort of wanted to do my first Christmas with Bay alone. The realization hit me when I thought about Kit. That was the problem, not the day. I didn’t feel like Rydell was a part of that. She wasn’t. She didn’t know Kit the way I had come to know her over our nightly conversations with Bay.

  That thought led to another and another. What the fuck was this, and what the hell was I doing? I knew without a doubt I had hid Rydell from Kit for a reason, but what was it? I was so in love with Rydell Brinkley it wasn’t even funny. She consumed me day and night, and I couldn’t stand being away from her for very long. I loved her.

  “Can I ple
ase give her one of the k-i-t-t-e-n-s tomorrow? Please,” she begged, as her arm went around my back.

  “No, no, and no. She can see them here. I don’t want a cat.”

  “Bay wanna have a cat.”

  “See, Bay wants one.”

  I didn’t mean to sound like such a dick, but this was like the fifth time she’d begged me to let her have one of the new barn kittens. I hated cats with a passion and there was no way I was taking one in. Forget it. “Bay can have one here. No, Rydell. We’re not taking a cat.”

  “Whatever, party-pooper. I’ll see you in a little bit. Do you want me to bring my guitar?”

  “Yes, but aren’t you riding with us?”

  The sneaky grin assured me her shopping trip with Rydell a couple days ago with Wendi was for me and Bay. Thank God for Amazon. I didn’t do any shopping outside the house. “No, I have things in my trunk. I’ll meet you there.”

  “I comin, Dale.”

  “No, you’re going with Daddy. You can see Dale in a little bit.”

  I chatted with Bay the whole way home, knowing she was ready for bed. There was no way I was about to let her sleep without a bath first, and Kit sent her Christmas pajamas. “Wake up, Bay. We’re almost home.”

  “I tire. I talk a mommy.”

  “Mommy is going to talk to you in the morning when you open your presents. We have to get a bath and put on your new jammies.”

  “I talk a mommy.”

  “Are you going to open presents with mommy?”

  “S, a gun. Go pow.”

  “No guns. How about a baby doll?”

  “Uh-huh, wif a gun. Go pow a loud in my ear.”

  I shook my head, giving up and moved on to Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer. I loved hearing Bay sing along with me. She had the basics, but the words were all over the place, which made it the perfect Bay song.

  Bay was already in the tub when Rydell popped her head in the bathroom door. “Look what I got for you, Bay. Christmas jammies.”

  Bay looked up to the long flowing nightgown with snowmen wearing a Santa hat and stood. “I weared them.”