“I don’t know if we’re going to be able to eat it all,” I say, choking back the emotion burning my throat. “It’s an awfully big fish.”
She likes hearing this. I was sure her smile couldn’t get any bigger, but it grows times ten. I kiss her chubby, pink cheek and then put her down.
“Where’s your daddy?” Margo asks, placing the fish into the sink for cleaning.
“In the car’s house.”
Not a second later, Jim comes through the front door with a bundle of fish dangling from his hand.
“Did you see what our girl caught all by herself, Margo?” he asks, pride on his face.
“Uh-huh, Daddy. I showeded her.”
“It’s showed, baby,” Margo corrects her.
“Oh, right,” she says, as if this is something she forgot rather than never having known it. “I showed Mommy.”
He dumps the fish onto the table and picks her up with a big dramatic swoop, bringing his scruffy chin to her face and kissing it with loud puckering sounds. She giggles and pushes his face away. His beard must tickle her. He pulls away willingly with a scrunched up nose. “Whoa, baby cakes. You smell like fish. We need to get you cleaned up before dinner.”
“May I?”
“She’d love it,” Margo insists, turning from the sink. When her eyes catch the fish on her nice clean table, they grow wide. “Damn it, Jim,” she says with a deflated tone. “How many times have I told you not put these stinky dead fish on my table?”
He grins apologetically, the look of a husband who knows when he’s in for it. He grabs them up, dumps them in the sink, and turns back to his wife, taking her into his arms. He begins to sway.
“I’m sorry, my beautiful, wonderful wife.” He tries to kiss and make up, but she isn’t having it.
“You’re one to talk about smelling like fish,” she says, clipping her nostrils shut with her thumb and forefinger. “Woo!”
They smile at one another.
I smile at the two of them, amused by their playfulness with one another, but it makes me miss Holt more than I already do. At least during this past week, I was around him. Even if he was ignoring me, his presence was all I needed.
Overwhelmed by the hollow feeling, I take the little girl into my arms and rest her on my hip, her little body clings to me trustingly. I admire her ability to openly trust people. It’s easy when the world hasn’t shown its true colors to you yet. Of course, she has every reason to trust me. I’ve been in her life since before she was born.
I walk us upstairs, draw her bath, and get her undressed. After testing the temp, I set her in the temperate water, grab the cup from the ceil of the tub, dunk it, and scoop up water. “Lean your head back, baby.” She tilts it and shuts her green eyes. I pour the water over her hair, a happy smile fattening her already chubby cheeks.
“I like it,” she says with her angelic little voice.
“When I wash your hair?”
“No,” she corrects me with her adorable Elmer Fudd speech impediment. “When you’re here.”
“I like it, too.”
Once she no longer smells like a dead trout, I dry her off, brush her hair, and dress her in a cute little daisy-print dress. We walk back downstairs, her clutching two of my fingers with the whole of her hand. She asks me to color with her. It’s kinda our thing. Margo is shucking corn while Jim cleans the fish in the sink. I’m grateful his back is turned to me because I hate watching him gut the poor smelly guys. Once he’s done, he’ll grill them up over an open fire pit out back. Since dinner won’t be ready for another twenty minutes, I collect the coloring books and crayons from the cupboard in the living room and spread them out across the floor. We lie on our stomachs, picking through them until we find a color we like. I pick a blue crayon out of the brand new box and take a whiff of the nostalgic scent of colored wax. I shut my eyes and let the feeling of adolescence seep into my soul. When I open them again, I notice mini-me mimicking my action.
“I like this smell,” she unknowingly agrees with me.
“Yeah, it’s a great one.”
A deep dimple forms in her right cheek when she beams at me.
We begin to color. She’s careful not to go outside the lines like I taught her, but when she overshoots, crossing over the thick black border, she frowns.
“I made a booboo.”
She looks like she murdered someone. Her bottom lip plumps and curls into a heartbroken pout. I hate seeing her sad, so I color outside of my assigned area, too.
“You know, when it comes to art, it’s not always about how perfect it is. In fact, many would say the beauty comes from the flaws and differences.”
“You’re just trying to make me feel better,” she says, turning her R’s into W’s with that charming speech impediment.
“I’d never tell you anything that wasn’t true,” I vow, crossing my finger over my heart.
Technically, this is completely honest. I’ve never physically told her a lie. But she’s never questioned my relation to her either. If she does, I’ll tell her the absolute God’s honest truth. It was never a part of the arrangement that I couldn’t tell her. But she’s young and wouldn’t understand what any of this really meant yet.
She picks up her crayon again, coloring over the line, on purpose this time.
“That’s my Bails.”
My Bails.
My Bailey.
Mine.
I run my hand over my daughter’s hair, feeling the baby softness of its fragile strands. Before I continue to color again, I take an assuring breath, loafing around in this preciously rare moment with her, pretending everything’s as it should be.
By the time we finish the rainbow unicorn, dinner is ready. We eat the catch of the day and then retire to the back porch to wait for the fireflies. Bailey and Jim run around the yard while we watch for the sun to get low enough for the light show. Margo and I sit in white rocking chairs, swaying back and forth, a ceiling fan blowing around the hot, stale air of the early evening.
“You’re weighed down,” she observes, her head resting against the backing of her chair, but her eyes aren’t even open. It must’ve been plain on my face since I arrived. I’m so transparent sometimes.
“Has Meredith visited you in the past month?”
Her eyes open, and her head lifts.
“That’s an odd question.”
“Has she?”
“No,” she answers. “Why?”
“Because she uses you as an alibi for an affair she’s having with Charles Channing.”
“Charles Channing,” she says his name, letting it roll around on her tongue. “Haven’t heard that name in years.”
“Did you know him well?”
“Only from when he’d pick up your mom for a date or visit her at the house.”
“They went out before this?”
“Sure, they were sweethearts from the age of eleven into their early twenties.”
“How did I not know this?”
It’s hard to remember our parents live a whole life before us.
“It’s a complicated story, one Mere should tell. But I’ll say this. It doesn’t surprise me they’re carrying on behind Christina’s back. He never loved her, not like he loved your mom.” They were in love? “How did you find out anyway?”
“Aidan.”
“A little bird told me he was back in town.”
“Mm-hm. We’ve been spending time together.”
“How is that?”
“Could be better. I haven’t spoken to him since he told me about Meredith and his father.”
“That must’ve put a damper on things.”
“I can’t bring myself to face him. I know I have to, but there’s so much going on between us, with the affair and our past and—” I trail off, my eyes tracking Bailey.
“You haven’t told him, have you?”
“No.” I see the relief on her face. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.” She stiffens. “He was never
given a choice in what happened. He’s going to hate me.”
“Evie, honey, you were a child yourself. Sometimes we make choices for our future we hope we’d never have to make, but it was—”
“For the best?” I finish her statement with an emotionless tone.
“It was,” she insists, her hand over mine, grasping to get my attention. “If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have our Bailey. What would I do if I wasn’t her mother? You gave us a gift. You gave her a gift by choosing a life you and Aidan wouldn’t have been able to provide for her. And as far as telling him, it’s best for everyone involved if he never finds out.”
“Is it? Or is what’s best for us? Christina, me, you, Jim, it would benefit us. I wouldn’t have to tell him and break his heart. You wouldn’t have to admit to your daughter that she isn’t biologically yours. Christina could go on with her life, pretending this beautiful child doesn’t exist, and allowing Aidan to believe she’s something she isn’t.”
“For Bailey’s sake. How would it be for her if he found out and wanted to take her away from the only home she’s ever known? What would that do to a small child?”
“Doesn’t he have the right to know he has a child in this world? I’ve lived with this deception for so long. It eats away at me every day.”
“I’m not saying it isn’t hard. I’m asking you to think about what would be best for Bailey. There’s a reason we’ve let her believe you’re her cousin. We wanted to keep her life as carefree and uncomplicated as possible. I’m not saying it will be this way forever, but if he does get mad over this, he could take her away from us. He could take her away from you, make it so you never see her either.”
Would Aidan really be capable of doing that? I’d hate to affect Bailey’s life with trials and lawyers and child services and stress. She’s happy and healthy and thriving here. She loves Margo and Jim with her entire little heart. But is it fair to keep this from her biological father? Doesn’t he have the right to know of his flesh and blood’s existence?
“It’s not my intenti0n to hurt anyone more than I already have.”
“Not to mention Christina. Could you imagine what she would do to you?”
“I’m mad at myself for allowing her to get her way. I should’ve told him years ago and not let her determine my decisions. At least then I wouldn’t feel this gut-rotting guilt.”
“Evie! Evie! Watch me!” Bailey yells for my attention. She dances with the fireflies, bobbing in the air like tiny flickering stars. She giggles and twirls like I used to do when I was a little girl. She’s so much like me, with parts of Aidan mixed in, my heart tightens. “Play with us, Evie!”
I rise to my feet and skip out to her in the grass, twirling and hopping around with my daughter amongst the bobbing orbs of light.
dark area created when the light
source is obstructed by an object
Friday, I drive home with plenty of time to reflect. I feel a sense of remorse about Aidan, but when I’m with Holt, his lips, his kiss, his hands, his touch surpass any guilt. If it didn’t, I would’ve run out on him long before this. By the time I arrive home, my mind’s made. I lug my bag from the garage to the house. Max charges down the stairs, his tail wagging wildly, when I kick the door shut behind me.
“Hello, boy.” I bend down to pet him, cupping his ears in my hands and shaking them like he likes. His eyes roll back up into his skull.
A floorboard squeaks. When I look up, Holt’s standing on the staircase, a book in hand and a peach in the other.
‘You taste like peaches.’
I wish his presence didn’t appease me so much. After what I thought would be a restful and therapeutic trip to Vermont, I’m more stressed now. But seeing him lights something up in my chest, fuzzy and electric. I feel happy.
His face is anything but, and my stomach drops.
“You’re home,” he says flatly.
“Yes.”
He eyes me and then walks past and out the door. My hand reaches for him but drops back down to my side.
“Evie?” Meredith calls from the second floor. “I need your assistance please!”
“Coming, Mama,” I call back. I grudgingly walk up to her bedroom and poke my head inside. There’s an overnight bag on the bed with clothes carelessly hanging out.
“What’s up?” I ask, shoving my hands into my back pockets as I step inside.
“Do you know where my red scarf went?”
Went, as if it got up and misplaced itself. She always manages to lose things. I’m surprised she hasn’t lost her mind yet.
“It’s hanging in the downstairs hall closet. You put it there during the party because it was too warm.”
“Oh, right.” She pats me on the cheek and then disappears into the hall. “What would I do without you, baby?”
I place the folded blouses on the bed into her haphazardly packed bag, rearranging things to fit more. I shouldn’t help her pack for a trip with her lover, but I’ve been trying to remind myself it’s none of my business. She comes back with the red scarf flowing behind her, tossing it onto the bed.
I wish she weren’t leaving as I’m coming home. I was hoping she’d play mediator between Holt and myself. I don’t need to ask her where she’s going. She would tell me Margo’s or make up a girls’ weekend. Right now, I don’t have the strength to be lied to. I’m drowning in lies.
Instead, I ask, “When are you leaving?”
“Tonight,” she answers, walking into her closet.
“Don’t you think you should wait until tomorrow? It’s already dark out.”
“I’ll be fine. I don’t have far to go.”
“I want you to be safe, Mama.” I’m not talking about her drive anymore.
“I know, baby. And I love that you worry about me, but I’ll be perfectly safe.” She looks over at me, concern replacing her joy. “What’s the matter?”
“I’m fine.”
“Evie baby, you’re my child, remember? You’re a part of me.” She runs her fingers through my hair, just like she used to when I was a little girl. “Does any of this have to do with what’s going on with Holt?”
Shit.
Does she know about us?
“There’s nothing—”
“Violet,” she warns. “Did you have a fight with him?”
“We’re not talking to each other right now.”
“Why?”
“Aidan.”
“I think I understand what’s happening here.” She sits on the bed beside me, sweeping my hair over my shoulder. “Do you care about him?”
“Aid?”
“I already know the answer to that one. I meant Holt.”
“I’m starting to.” I rest my face in my hands. “How long have you known about us?”
“Probably before you did.” She tucks stray hairs behind my ear, smiling at me. “The way you two look at each other, even in the very beginning, gave it away.”
“How does he look at me?”
“Like he’s never seen a woman before you. His eyes follow you wherever you go, as if he needs to keep any type of connection with you. It makes me nervous.”
“Why?”
“I’ve seen it before—” Her eyes glaze over as she thinks back on a distant memory, taking it out of its box and dusting it off to admire it for a brief moment. She smiles at me when she comes back from that time and place she visited in her mind. “I won’t tell you who to be with or how to live your life. I only ask that you’re careful with your choices.”
“Are you mad? He didn’t feel right about doing anything. He really respects you and—”
“You want who you want.” She doesn’t mean only me. “I’ll support anything you choose.”
Even though I’ve been torn about her affair, when I see how accepting she is, I want to be the same for her. She’s my mother. I love her unconditionally.
“Have things become serious between you and Holt?”
“It depends on your defini
tion of serious.”
“Have you two dot, dot, dot?”
“Did you really say dot, dot, dot?”
We chuckle.
“I’m serious.”
Holt and I have been on bad terms these past few weeks, but I’m not about to get him kicked him out for fooling around with me. My mom is a free-spirit, but she’s not that free.
“Will my answer affect whether or not you let him stay?”
“Evie, I wouldn’t throw the boy out. He’s helped me so much. He’s helped you, too. I see it. How could I throw him out for that?” She tosses the red scarf into the bag. “Now, be honest with me. Did something happen between you two?”
“Not dot, dot, dot.” I poke the air three times for emphasis.
“That’s what I thought.” She contemplates. “We’ll need to put down ground rules. Like, I don’t want to catch you two getting it on. Please, keep it discreet. But I don’t intend to step in the middle of this.”
“Yeah.” My eyes drop to my lap. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” I mumble under my breath.
Once I’ve helped Meredith pack and seen her off, I escape to my room for a shower and a nap. I’m lying down, halfway between awake and asleep, when my cellphone rings. I pick it up without checking the screen.
“Hello?”
“Evie? It’s Aid.” How did he get this number? “I hope you don’t mind me calling your private line. When I couldn’t get you on the house phone, I got it from Taylor.”
I’m going to ring her neck. She knows I’ve been avoiding everyone, especially Aidan.
“Yeah, I’ve been out of town.” Visiting our daughter. “What’s up?”
“I—” he pauses, silence filling the speaker, “I feel awful about how we left things. I never meant to hurt you, Evie. You have to know it was never my intent.”
“I know, Aid.”
“I want to fix this between us.”
“Aidan, really, you don’t have to feel guilty or responsible for what’s happening with our parents. You didn’t do anything wrong. You were honest with me.”
Which is a lot more than I can say about myself.
“Listen, there’s this event I need to make an appearance at tonight, champagne and stuffy rich people. You’d be doing me a huge favor if you’d be my plus one. I’d really like to see you and talk.”
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