All My Life

by Prescott Lane

  I leaned over, close to his neck. All I wanted to do was lean my head on his shoulder, kiss his neck. Inhaling softly, I breathed him in. We were in Eden Valley, not the Garden of Eden, but he was my very own forbidden fruit. Now, more than ever.

  Playfully, I took a big whiff. “What about how you smell?” He smiled at me like he was thankful, so grateful that I was treating him the same way as always. Smiling at him, I asked, “How are you?”

  He shrugged and nodded his head. “We’re fine.”

  I hate the word fine. What the hell does that word mean? It sounds so ordinary to say, “I’m fine.” Unless you’re talking about fine wine or fine china, then it sounds classy and important. Garrett was a lot of things, but “fine” wasn’t one of them—unless you were referring to his body, then the boy was FINE, with a capital F.

  Rolling my eyes, I bumped his shoulder. “How about we get something to eat for you, too?”

  “I’m good, really.”

  Like all teenage boys, Garrett was an excellent liar, but he wasn’t going to fool me. I got to my feet, Mia in my arms, and we headed toward the diner. He followed along, both of us acutely aware of all the eyes staring, and none more harshly than my mother’s.

  As we made our way, the patrons filed back into the diner, but my mother stayed outside. She blocked the door to the diner. “Garrett, I’m sorry for what happened,” she said. “Truly I am, but you brought this on yourself, and I’m not going to let you drag my daughter into it. She’s not some substitute mother for that baby.”

  That baby!

  I’d be damned if she used Mia as a cuss word. “Mom! I . . .”

  Garrett touched my arm. “It’s okay.” He took Mia from my arms then looked at my mom. “I know you want what’s best for your daughter.” He looked down at his own. “I get that.”

  He turned to walk away, and I looked to my mom, seeing her heart soften. “He’s my friend, Mom. I won’t stop trying.” She glanced at Garrett. He made mistakes, but he was doing the right thing. He loved his daughter just like she loved me. That was enough of a common ground to make a start. She gave me the slightest nod then disappeared inside. “I just made fresh biscuits,” I called out to Garrett. “Want one?”

  He turned back, and I opened the door. “I appreciate it, Devlyn, but . . .” He looked over my shoulder into the diner, the patrons still gawking at him. “I promised my parents I’d be responsible. You know, with money and stuff.”

  “Never got you a baby gift,” I said. “Breakfast’s on me.”

  With that, a tradition was born. Garrett walked through that door for breakfast that day and most every day since.

  That morning changed everything. It only takes one person to change things.

  The town started to rally behind him and Mia. How could we not? A sweet little baby like Mia. The more people that saw Garrett and Mia together, the more people realized he was still the same boy they cheered for at football games. It helped that Garrett was so utterly devoted to that baby girl. Hard to hate a guy who walked around town with a baby strapped to his chest. Soon his “mistake” turned into the town’s daughter. Everyone loved seeing them together. People sent over diapers, clothes, offers to babysit. There was no town treaty, no oath, but silently everyone in Eden Valley adopted Mia in their hearts.

  And it all started with a biscuit.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  GARRETT

  “You really should be taking her to dinner,” Mia scolds me. “Lunch is so . . . lunch.”

  Date one is today, and I’m going in blind. I figure if these women pass the Mia Test, then they’ve been through the wringer. I must’ve missed the newsletter that dating is now a damn audition process.

  Mia has strict age requirements. They can’t be too young or too old. She doesn’t want them to have other children; they must be educated, financially independent, spiritual, no history of serious illness, have good fashion sense. The list goes on and on. And true to the spirit that is my daughter, there isn’t one thing on the list about the woman’s looks or physical appearance. I know beauty’s on the inside and all that shit, but I may be meeting a woman for lunch that has three heads, and that’s just not going to work.

  I don’t get the same courtesy. Mia’s been giving me tips on what to wear for the past three days. “You should put on a suit, like for my graduation. You’re always in jeans and a white or black t-shirt.”

  “It’s lunch. Jeans and a shirt will work just fine.” She rolls her eyes. “No spying,” I say, giving Mia a quick peck on top of her head as I head to meet the woman by the town’s gazebo.

  I see a woman standing there waiting. She’s tall with dark brown hair, very attractive. Good job in that department, Mia. Maybe this won’t be as bad as I think.

  A quick hello, and we’re walking to my truck to head to the restaurant. I’m taking her to a place one town over, knowing there’s no chance at privacy with the rumor mill in Eden Valley working overtime. I reach for the handle of her door when her hand quickly beats me to it. “I can get my own door!” she bites out.

  Christ, not one of these women that thinks chivalry is the opposite of feminism. The way I see it, chivalry and feminism go hand-in-hand. I know she can get her own door. I know she can pay her own way. I get the door out of a sign of respect for her, not a sign of weakness. Chivalry is a sign of respect, not an insult.

  “Well, then you can get your own lunch, too,” I say, grinning, and turn and walk away.

  She yells a few cuss words my way as I head back towards my hardware store. If that’s any indication how dating is going to go, then you can count me out. I don’t need that shit. I know I said I thought all love is hard, but I’m beginning to wonder if it’s damn near impossible.

  Almost back to my store, I spot Devlyn beside her SUV with her arms full. Hurrying her way, I open the door for her just before she drops everything. This time I’m greeted with a bright smile and a thank you, not a dissertation on the history of female rights in this country.

  As I take the boxes and sacks from her, she starts to load up the backseat. “I thought you had a date?” she asks.

  Must have my dating schedule up on the town’s Facebook page now. “Don’t ask.”

  “You’re going to be in big trouble with Mia,” she teases me.

  “Think I’ve humored that girl long enough.”

  “You’re going to miss her craziness when she goes off to school.”

  She’s absolutely right. I will. “You’ve got a lot of deliveries today,” I say.

  We don’t have homeless people in Eden Valley. If we did, I’m sure Devlyn would feed them, too. Instead, she takes food to those in town that are sick, housebound, or have lost a loved one. She doesn’t charge them one cent, either. She’ll tell you it’s just leftovers that she’d have to throw out, but I know better. All anyone in town has to do is call the diner, and Devlyn guarantees them a hot meal.

  “Want to help me?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. “Or would you rather go explain to your headstrong daughter why you bailed on your date?”

  This time it’s her who opens the door for me. Grinning, I hop in. “Who’s the first stop?”

  *

  A dozen houses, and the same question to me every time. “Found a girlfriend yet?” Apparently, even the sick and elderly have a vested interest in my love life. Devlyn pulls up in front of her diner. “It’s really sweet of you do this,” I say.

  “It tickles my heart, you know?” She shrugs. “Thanks for the help.”

  “Anytime,” I say.

  Devlyn unbuckles and turns to me. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Why the hell not? Everyone else in town has.”

  “Why haven’t you . . .”

  “I’ve dated. It’s . . .”

  “A regular Thursday night hookup with that nurse two towns over isn’t dating.”

  My eyes fly to her. “How’d you know about that?”

  “I know everything there is to know about you,
Garrett Hollis.”

  Struggling for what to say, I feel my jaw tense. Can’t really argue with the truth, but that’s been over for a long time. How does Devlyn know about that? Mia had a couple hours of dance class every Thursday. I didn’t set out to make that my hookup night, it just sort of happened. I’m not going to apologize or explain it. I’m a grown fucking man, but that doesn’t mean I would want my daughter to get wind of my extracurricular activities.

  “Don’t worry,” Devlyn says. “I’m the only one that knows. I was taking a class and saw you walking into her house. Your truck was there week after week.”

  “It’s been over for a while.”

  “Figured as much,” she said. “So why no real relationships?”

  “Couple of reasons,” I say. “Women my age want kids, and frankly, I’m not sure I want to start over with all that. Babies are hard work.”

  “You were alone with a kid last time,” she says.

  “Even if I could get over that,” I say, “I’ve never met a woman who understood that Mia comes first. They all say they do until Mia gets sick or I have to spend money on something Mia needs instead of on dates or gifts. Things tend to go south pretty quick when your daughter needs new uniforms for dance team, so you can’t take your girlfriend away for the weekend.” I look over at Devlyn. She’s helped me so much with Mia over the years. “The thing is, I don’t think bad about these women. They deserve those things. Hell, someday I want Mia to have a guy that loves her so much he makes her the center of his world. I could never offer that to any woman because the position was filled.”

  “Mia,” she whispers, and I nod my head. “You had to be lonely.”

  “There’s no time to be lonely. There are tutors and dance lessons and . . .”

  “Still, at night when you’re alone.”

  “I wait up for her at night.”

  “When she was little, then.”

  “You mean during fevers and bad dreams and bedtime stories.”

  She gives me a look. Women have a lot of damn looks they throw around. Us men need a damn translation app to figure them out. “Are you sure it’s not more than that?” she asks.

  “Like what?”

  “Like Sheena. She did a real number on you.”

  She said her name. No one in town brings up Sheena, ever, and if they do, it’s to refer to her as that woman, or the woman who gave birth to Mia. They don’t even call her a mother. It’s like the name Sheena has been permanently ruined for the entire town of Eden Valley. It’s as though her name has become associated with everything wrong in the world. So for Devlyn to use her name—well, it’s sort of like calling out to Voldemort in Harry Potter.

  No way am I dredging up all that shit. “Look, it’s simple, there’s no use looking for something I can’t have, so I stopped looking.”

  She opens her car door. “I should get back to the diner.”

  Suddenly, I feel like I’ve done something wrong. “Devlyn?”

  She turns to me, giving me a little smile. “Good luck on date number two.” Then she disappears through the door to her diner.

  *

  They should really make bedroom ceilings more interesting to look at. I’ve been staring at mine for hours. It’s not one of those terrible popcorn ceilings, but at least if it was, I could try to count the bumps to make myself fall asleep. As it is, I’m just staring up at the blank space above my head.

  Sheena.

  I don’t think about her too much anymore. Sometimes Mia will do something that reminds me of her mother, but otherwise, I’ve buried that all away. Being busy raising our daughter made it pretty easy to not think about how she left. Why she left.

  It does no good to think about it. She left me. She left Mia. I have her signature on a piece of paper saying she wanted nothing to do with our daughter. Actually, my father has it. He was a lawyer. He drafted it. I’ve never actually read it. That was the last time I saw Sheena, just days after Mia was born.

  Wonder what made Devlyn bring Sheena up?

  I know she wasn’t just being nosy. That’s not Devlyn’s mode of operation. She must think my bachelorhood has something to do with Sheena and not single fatherhood, which I blamed for my lack of dating. If she were wrong, I’d be fast asleep by now, but I know she’s right—at least a little bit.

  Fucking hate admitting that.

  I hate that I’m losing sleep. I hate that I give one ounce of thought to that woman. I doubt Mia and I get the same space in her mind. I doubt she’s ever lost a night’s sleep over us. Last I heard, she had some big life over in Europe. She’s probably married, has more kids. She probably has everything she ever talked about. I’m sure we aren’t even on her radar.

  So I’m pissed that she’s also robbing me of my sleep.

  I know what my dad would say, what my mom would say, what Devlyn would say.

  Don’t let her rob you of anything else.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck! I throw the sheets off and sit up, my head lowered to my hands. I’ve been fine alone all these years. I have been. I tried to date. Okay, so I didn’t try that hard, but I’m good. I didn’t need the romantic hassles of dating someone. When I needed a warm body, I found one, but I didn’t need all the other stuff that comes with being in a relationship.

  Especially the risk.

  I had more on the line than myself. My daughter was already growing up with a huge handicap, not having a mother around, and I wasn’t going to set her up for more disappointment.

  I wasn’t going to set myself up, either.

  *

  Letters to Mia

  Fifteenth Birthday

  Dear Mia,

  At fifteen, I was boy crazy. I’d already had my first kiss. Have you? Most moms probably wouldn’t tell their daughters some of things I write about, but since you’ll never read these letters, I figure I’m safe.

  The first time your father kissed me was two days after we met. I was in the library pretending to read and escaping the Georgia heat. Garrett was beside me, not even pretending. I remember I had the biggest smile on my face and elbowed him slightly to try to get him to stop staring at me. When I did, he lightly took hold of my chin, tilted my head up and kissed me. It was sweet and, like everything else that summer, totally unexpected.

  He didn’t cop a feel for two more weeks. It wasn’t until the Fourth of July that the real fireworks happened.

  It wasn’t something we planned. It wasn’t something we even talked about before it happened. Looking back, I should’ve known it was coming. I’d had sex one time before, on my sixteenth birthday with my boyfriend at the time. It was just once. It wasn’t great, and we broke up shortly after.

  I never told Garrett about that. He probably assumed I was a virgin like him. I bet all the girls he knew were. I was the big city girl with more experience, but the thing was, everything felt new with Garrett.

  Everyone was at the Falls to celebrate, but Garrett and I snuck away. Between my parents, his parents, and small-town life, privacy was hard to come by. We’d found our own secret hideaway in his grandparents’ old house, spending afternoons there making out. That night was no different.

  Before either of us realized it, we were at the point of no return.

  I remember I cried myself to sleep that night. I never told Garrett that. I never told him how lonely I felt after we untangled ourselves, and he took me home. I didn’t want him to feel bad. It wasn’t his fault we were kids, playing as adults.

  But once you cross that line, have a taste of the forbidden, it’s hard to stop, so we didn’t. As you get older, remember that.

  I was on the pill. It’s not foolproof. Every girl back home was on it. Our mothers justified it by saying we needed to regulate our periods, but we all knew it was to avoid the shame of having your daughter get pregnant.

  Shame I would bring on them sooner than I could’ve imagined.

  Labor Day came, and I left. We promised a whole lot to each other in those final minutes together. For a gir
l who went to Eden Valley kicking and screaming, I was leaving a huge part of me behind—love.

  Every slow minute of that summer was spent with Garrett, but somehow it all went too quick.

  I left how I came, looking at the window, watching him—a strawberry blonde girl I now knew as Devlyn smiling at him.

  Happy Birthday,

  Until next year,

  Your mom

  CHAPTER FIVE

  GARRETT

  Senior year of high school is a busy time. Actually, it starts junior year. I missed out on most of it. There’s prom, ACT’s, confirmation class if you’re Catholic, college tours, college applications, senior rings, senior class portraits, graduation. The list is endless. For Mia, ending her senior year also means her very last dance recital.

  I’ve had her in dance lessons since she was a toddler. My mom insisted. They used to love to twirl around together. My mom gave Mia a charm bracelet the year she started dance, and she added a new charm every recital. Her bracelet is nearly full with fifteen charms. Some are dance related, like a pointe shoe. Some are special to that time in Mia’s life, like the polar bear charm for the year she loved polar bears and a wand for the year she loved Harry Potter. When mom passed away, I kept the tradition alive. Of course, this year’s charm is a graduation cap.

  Grabbing the box with the charm bracelet and a bouquet of flowers, I start walking to the small town hall where they have the recital each year. Mia’s been here all afternoon. She’s got a solo performance tonight. It’s tradition that all the seniors get a solo their last year. My phone rings, and I grab it from my pocket, seeing my dad’s calling. “I’m almost there.”

  “I’m saving you a seat,” my dad says.

  “Why do you need to save me a seat?” I ask. It’s not as though the dance school recital is a big-ticket item.

  “You’ll see,” he says. “Hurry up. I don’t know how long I can keep this seat saved. It’s worse than Christmas Mass.”