by Marion Dess
My Future
Written by Marion Dess
Part 1 of “My Future”
Chapter 1
That morning, it had been a mess. Elizabeth’s toys were all over the house. A beige stuffed bear from her grandpa was leaning against the wall in the hallway. A little plastic hand- painted pony with wheels on the bottom of each hoof, made by her uncle Shorty, was in the middle of the hallway waiting for somebody to step on it in the dark, slip, and break a bone.
Several Winnie the Pooh books were on the carpet of the living room, strewn from the couch to the fireplace. Last night, she’d laid them out in order from least to favorite, though she loved them all. Reagan would read her one story each night, but she would never want anything besides her favorite Pooh Bear accompanying her to bed. Elizabeth had learned to say her mother’s name because of the book, Winnie’s master plan.
Winnie had woken to a very cranky Elizabeth that morning. Reagan had joked about the terrible twos, but Elizabeth was generally a very good baby. “He’s catching bad guys, honey,” Winnie had told Elizabeth, because she woke crying for her daddy instead of wanting anything to do with Winnie.
Now, Elizabeth had calmed down. She was wearing her daddy’s police cadet hat, one that he’d worn when he’d first met Winnie, as she wobbled around the living room. It was a small room with a single couch and two plush chairs opposite the couch. It was Winnie’s favorite room in the house. Winnie could see her from the kitchen where she stood beside the stove, a cake in the oven. She knew she’d probably burn it, because she had her last birthday, and she had Reagan’s birthday every year. She’d burned everything from cookies to meatloaf, and Reagan did most of the cooking after wasting hundreds of dollars of food, thinking that Winnie would learn one day. Today, Winnie had ordered a small pizza for lunch for her and Elizabeth to share. It was better than trying to make something with all the things she had to do.
“Come here, babe,” she called, and knelt down beside her small baby as she wobbled over. “Do you know what today is?” She had asked her earlier that morning, too, but she knew that Elizabeth had already forgotten.
“Mama,” she babbled.
Winnie smiled and caught Elizabeth in her arms as she tumbled into her at full speed. “Yes, I’m your mama. Good job. Today is your birthday. Can you say birth day?” She slowed down the words for her baby.
“Bir-day,” she said loudly.
“Good job, baby!” Winnie held her hand up and Elizabeth placed her palm in Winnie’s.
Winnie picked her up and held her on her hip as she went to the fridge, opening it and grabbing a plastic bowl with frosting inside of it to frost the cake. “This is all for you,” she said, looking at the little girl. Elizabeth was born with a headful of light hair that transformed into a sunset orange after a few months and grey blue eyes. She was proud of the daughter she and Reagan had created together. She knew she’d do great things, and that it wasn’t just something that mother’s believed about their daughters.
She placed the bowl onto the counter and removed the lid, dipping her finger inside and tasting it. “Mmm,” she whispered, and smiled at Elizabeth as Elizabeth looked at her longingly. “Want some?” She dipped her finger in and waved it in front of Elizabeth’s face.
“Maaa,” she yelled. “Want!”
Winnie laughed, and kissed her forehead. “Here,” she said. She moved her finger toward Elizabeth’s face, but instead of letting her taste the frosting, she wiped it on Elizabeth’s nose.
This caused Elizabeth to burst out laughing, leaning backward in Winnie’s arms, flailing happily. Winnie grabbed her close, afraid she was going to hit her head on the counter, and hugged her. “Do you want to help me frost your cake?”
Elizabeth nodded, kicking at the air. “Down, down.”
Winnie let her down, and grabbed an oven mitt. She could smell the burning edges of the cake as she opened it, and pulled the pan out. The vanilla cake was turning brown on the top, and she sighed. Cake number seven, failure number seven. She wrinkled her nose.
“Okay, mama,” Elizabeth said, looking up at her with hopeful eyes.
Winnie smiled at her sweet daughter. She placed the cake on the island in the center of the kitchen and turned it upside down onto a plate. She let it cool as she grabbed a step stool and placed it in front of the island.
Elizabeth smiled and stepped up, barely tall enough to see over the top of the counter. Winnie handed her a spatula with frosting and took one of her own, showing Elizabeth how to put the frosting onto the cake. Elizabeth looked at Winnie, then the frosting, then Winnie again. Finally, she put the spatula down and dipped her fingers into the frosting, running a splotch of frosting along the edges.
“Oh, Eliza,” she whispered, smiling. “Okay, if that’s how you want to do it.” She picked up her spatula and frosted the top. “Hopefully nobody cares how terrible my cake is. But don’t you worry, you’re making it so beautiful.”
As they were finishing the final coat, Winnie heard the front door open. Her eyes met Reagan’s as he turned around the corner into the kitchen.
“What’s going on here?” His voice was playful and sweet, smiling as he took off his coat and placed it on the hanger near the backdoor.
“Cake, daddy!” Elizabeth was excited, waving her hand at him, a pile of frosting from her hands making a loud splat on the ground. Elizabeth stopped in her tracks and looked at her father. “Sorry.”
Winnie half-smiled at Reagan, as Elizabeth ran to him and Winnie cleaned up after her daughter’s mess. She stood and washed her hands, looking over her shoulder. Reagan and Elizabeth were standing behind her, Elizabeth laying her head on his shoulder. She smiled at her mother, but didn’t try to get down from her father’s arms.
“You’re home early,” Winnie said, drying her hands on a towel hanging from the cabinet underneath the sink.
“Wanted to help you with her party,” Reagan said, stepping forward and placing his lips against hers softly. She smiled on his lips, and leaned into it. “Couldn’t handle Jeff anymore, either.” Jeff was a trainee that Reagan and Shorty, his partner and best friend, were in charge of. Reagan had come home every day grumbling about something wrong that the kid had done.
Winnie almost felt bad for the kid. Reagan could be impatient when somebody didn’t understand something the first time he explained it.
“Almost finished,” she replied. She stepped back, Elizabeth’s sleepy eyes looking at her.
The house was bright with candles that smelt like apple pie. Winnie rarely put out candles, but she knew her mom loved candles and she loved seeing her mom peaceful and happy. A banner hung down in front of the kitchen walkway that read, “Happy Birthday Eliza!” Winnie hadn’t made it. Elizabeth’s Uncle Shorty had. He had dropped it off last night after Elizabeth had gone to bed, staying to have a drink with Reagan and Winnie. This was their routine, their family. He wasn’t blood, but since their marriage four years ago, he’d been their closest friend. He was Reagan’s friend before then. Day one in the police academy, Shorty had been watching out for him, showing him the ropes, and helping to keep him out of trouble.
A knock on the door alerted Winnie to the time, and she furrowed her brow. “I still have to make dinner,” she muttered.
“You aren’t finished, then?” Reagan smiled and kissed her cheek. “Take her.” He handed the sleepy girl to Winnie.
Winnie narrowed her eyebrows at Reagan, then walked with Elizabeth to the front door, peeking through the stained glass to see Shorty Giovanni in an Indians baseball hat, looking out into their front yard. Winnie opened the door with one hand, and smiled. “Evening, Short,” she said, smiling. “Come in.” She stepped aside, and he stepped through the doorway, his f
ingers touching the edges of his hat.
“How’s my Eliza?” he asked. He smiled, leaning forward and kissing Winnie’s cheek. “Evening, Winnie.”
Elizabeth was peeking up at him with a shy, tired smile on her face. She reached for him, and Winnie handed her over. He set his gift down on the oak table next to the door, and held the girl with both arms under her bottom.
Though Winnie’s brothers disliked Shorty for his role in Elizabeth’s life, she was beyond grateful for their friend. Not only did he look out for her sometimes impatient husband, he was Elizabeth’s favorite person. He had a special touch with her. She remembered when she’d called Reagan a few months after Elizabeth was born, when she was being particularly uncooperative. Neither new parent knew what to do with the crying baby, who wouldn’t quit and had cried for three hours straight. Reagan had turned to Shorty in their squad car, to tell him of their problem. Shorty suggested they stop by the house, since they were stuck in their car anyways for the next six hours. Ten minutes later, they showed up and Winnie was a mess. When she took Elizabeth out to the squad car, Shorty held little Elizabeth and she fell right asleep. Winnie believed that he was meant to be in their life.
She watched from the door as Shorty took his gift and Elizabeth to the front room, sitting on the long sofa in front of the red brick fireplace. The fireplace might’ve been the reason Winnie had wanted the house. It made it feel like a home, especially during long, cold winter days in Ohio.
“Look what I got you, Eliza,” he smiled. “I made it for you. Do you want to open it?” Winnie shook her head. “Shouldn’t she wait for gifts? Until everybody is here?”
Reagan was watching them from the stovetop where he hovered over a pot of spaghetti with meatballs in a pan beside it. He shook his head. “Sometimes I think she might love you more,” he grumbled. Winnie knew he was only joking, that Elizabeth loved Reagan more than anything else.
Shorty laughed, and smiled, and hugged Elizabeth close to him. “She’s my best girl, that’s all,” he said.
Winnie hadn’t moved from her spot at the edge of the living room near the front door, and soon Winnie’s mother and brothers and Reagan’s father were there, waiting to steal Elizabeth and to give her their gifts. But Elizabeth was preoccupied with Shorty’s gift. He’d been building her a small, red race car from scrap pieces of metal he’d found and restored. The tires were molded from small pieces of plastic, and the seats inside were leather. There was a white racing stripe along the side with gold paint bordering it. The number 2 was in the center inside a white circle.
“Your age,” he said, pointing to the number. “You are two.” He held up two fingers, and Elizabeth mimicked.
“Two,” she said, smiling.
Reagan sat on the floor next to Shorty and Elizabeth while Winnie served dinner to her mother and brothers.
Her brothers, Derek and Sam, were older than her, and protective, but her mother never allowed them to bully Reagan to his face. Her father had passed away a few days after Elizabeth was born, and everybody was grateful she was born before her father died. She helped the family heal. Elizabeth brought everybody together when things might have been too hard to handle.
Derek was watching Winnie’s family, crossing his arm. “He’s not even blood, why does he get all of Elizabeth’s time?” Derek was tall and handsome, but not married. Winnie imagined it to be because of his big mouth. He had been the tough love of the house when she was little. He was a bit of a bully, but he taught her how to fight and wrestle. She could take him down if she needed, and she’d spent many days breaking up stupid boy fights between Derek and Sam. But she would never use violence if she could use her voice instead.
Winnie rolled her eyes. “Go sit at the table,” she commanded, as she scooped spaghetti onto his plate.
Sam stood quiet behind Winnie. He wasn’t like his brother in looks, being short with a wider stature, curly hair with a lock that usually fell over his face, and wide-brim glasses. But he seemed to have the same jealous nature. “Tell the man to share our niece later, alright?” he said, his soft voice barely audible to anybody but her. He brushed his hand against Winnie’s shoulder, then joined his brother at the table.
Winnie squeezed her lips tight together, and looked at her mother. “When did they become so uptight?”
Her mother, Janelle, shrugged. “They’ve always been a bit of trouble. Why do you think neither are married?” She smiled at her daughter, winking at her.
Winnie put the plate down and hugged her mother. “Glad you’re here, mama.” “Wouldn’t miss it, honey. Your dad would be so proud of you.”
Winnie bit her lip and looked down. She missed her dad, and was grateful her baby had a wonderful dad and so many loving male figures in her life. She knew that nobody would ever hurt her kid with the amount of strong, crazy men watching out for her. “I’m happy he met her,” she said.
Winnie finished her family’s plates and brought them to the table. Reagan’s father, Gus, sat at the head of the table, talking to her brothers about politics. They were always talking about the war, the president, other countries policies. She hated it, but tried to ignore it because she knew they’d never stop. “There are children here,” she’d say, as she did this night. They’d always reply that it didn’t matter, that it was just one child and Elizabeth was too young to understand or care what they were talking about.
Winnie kept her mouth shut about the matter. She’d become a nurse originally because of war, because she saw people hurting and wanted more than anything to help them. She’d gone back to work six months after Elizabeth was born, but she’d missed Elizabeth’s first steps and resigned to stay with her daughter until she was old enough to go back. Maybe when she was four or five she’d go back part time. But for now, this was enough.
“Dinner,” she called, and Reagan came with Elizabeth to sit next to his father. Elizabeth was passed between every lap, eventually landing in Shorty’s.
Winnie knew her brothers weren’t happy, as they glared at Shorty from their spot across the table from him. She narrowed her eyes at them each. “So, Der, any girl to report about? Sam? Am I ever going to have a sister-in-law?”
Sam shook his head. “I’m not the go-to for most women, Winifred,” he said softly.
“Oh please, Sam,” she scoffed, standing and gathering the plates, stacking one on top of another. “You’re handsome. Any girl would be lucky to have you as their husband.”
“We can’t all be as lucky as Reagan,” Derek said, crossing his arms over chest. Winnie watched as Reagan’s face hardened, but he didn’t say anything.
“Calm down, Derek,” Janelle said, helping her daughter with the dishes. She gave her sons a warning look, one Winnie knew well from being a naughty child who liked to dig in the dirt in the garden with her brothers and draw on the walls with crayons when her mother wasn’t watching.
Gus was silent the whole night after dinner, as he watched his granddaughter sleeping on Shorty. He sipped at his gin on the couch, sitting beside his son quietly. Winnie knew they were a quiet bunch, but their love for each other was evident just by their comfort. They were talking about something quietly that Winnie couldn’t hear and didn’t want to interrupt.
Elizabeth was wrapped in a pink blanket knitted by Janelle for her birthday. Shorty had passed her to Derek after ten minutes of glares. It was getting late, and Janelle rose from her seat and stretched, ushering others to do the same. Elizabeth woke when Derek shifted, and looked up at him with sad eyes the way a puppy does when they want your dinner.
Winnie hugged her brother. Despite their differences, he was her best friend growing up. “Give kisses,” Winnie told Elizabeth.
Elizabeth was passed between each person, kissing them but only by putting her tiny lips on their face. She didn’t know yet how to move her lips together to kiss properly. But nobody cared. They were happy for any attention from the little girl.
Shorty was the las
t to leave, because Elizabeth was clinging to him. “Let me put her to bed,” he suggested. “Then I’ll be out of your hair.”
Reagan sighed, then smiled. He kissed Elizabeth’s forehead, and found his way to sit with his gin in his chair by the fireplace.
Winnie watched Shorty bring Elizabeth to bed and joined Reagan. “Are you alright?”
“I’m just tired. Your brothers take a lot out of me.” He took her hand and kissed her knuckles.
“I know. I’m sorry.” Winnie was startled as the phone rang in the kitchen, and she sighed. “Who would be calling at a time like this?” She stood and walked slowly over, picking it up. “Hello?”
“Is Detective Keating available?”
Winnie took the phone away from her ear. “It’s for you,” she said, letting out a breath. She knew that meant he’d be away for the night. It was something that she was used to by now.
He stood with his gin and answered the phone. “Detective Keating,” he said. “Mhm.
Mhm. Okay. I’ll be there soon. I will let Hank know. Okay. Thanks. Good bye.” He hung up the phone and sighed. He leaned forward and kissed Winnie. “I’ll be home as soon as I can, alright? Go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Winnie nodded. When he’d first started going away at night, she’d be scared and unsure.
Now, it was something that she was used to. “Be safe,” she said.
She watched as Shorty came out from putting Elizabeth to bed. “What’s going on?”
“Chief needs us downtown as soon as possible,” Reagan said. He kissed Winnie again. “I love you.”
Winnie smiled. “Love you,” she replied.