by Cassia Leo
I pulled on a pair of cargo shorts and a T-shirt in the closet. When I emerged, Kristin shot me a nasty glare from across the bathroom. She knew I would never let her live down the time she went alone for a swim, and her bikini top snapped, floating away into the depths of the ocean. Then, as she ran topless from the beach into the house, she bumped into the gardener.
As hilarious as it was, I felt a little bad that I had to fire the gardener. Poor kid always turned away every time he saw us coming, but he couldn’t hide the fact that he kept getting a stiffie whenever he saw Kristin. I gave him good references.
I came up behind her and placed my hand over her abdomen. “Have you thought more about what you want to name him?” I murmured into her ear.
She tossed her towel onto the vanity and lay her hand over mine. “What was that gardener’s name again? Roberto?”
I glared at her reflection in the mirror. “All right, you got me back.”
She grinned as I rested my chin on her shoulder. “How about Daniel?”
I shook my head. “Come on, baby. For a professional artist, that’s not very creative.”
She elbowed me in the ribs and I backed away to escape her wrath. “Well, what do you want to name him?”
I stepped forward again, wrapping my arms around her waist. “Something manly, like Brutus.”
She cringed. “Brutus? That’s gross.”
“Gross?” I laughed.
“Yes. Brutus sounds like bruise. Might as well just name him Bruiser.”
My eyes widened. “Bruiser is good. Bruiser is a kid no one fucks with.”
“Bruiser is a dog’s name! And not even a cute dog’s name,” she said, shaking her head. Then, she stared at the reflection of my hands on her belly for a while, before she looked up at me. “How about…Theodore?”
I smiled as I rubbed her belly. “Little Teddy Bear.”
She beamed at the sound of this. “My Teddy Bear.”
“Hey, kid. Don’t forget who was your first teddy bear,” I said, turning her around and planting a soft kiss on her forehead as I pulled her into my arms.
She coiled her arms around my waist and pressed her cheek into my shoulder. “I love when you call me kid. It almost makes me forget I’m turning thirty next month.”
We stood there for longer than we probably should have, but it was okay. Amelia could sleep in a little longer while I indulged in some alone time with Mommy.
As I held Kristin, I didn’t know how I was managing to keep my cool on the outside. Because inside, I was a mess. This was the first anniversary where there was a distinct possibility that my surprise might genuinely upset Kristin.
I kept thinking back to the first time I shared a family dinner with Kristin, her mom, and Petra in this house. I brought a gift for Sally that day, and I told Kristin she couldn’t see her mom’s gift until she’d memorized all the songs on a USB drive. Of course, she found out soon after that, that this was just a joke. The gift I gave Sally contained a note stating that she could share her gift with Kristin whenever she was ready. Giving Sally a choice in the matter was the least I could do for the woman who had raised the girl I’d fallen in love with.
To Sally’s credit, she didn’t shy away from sharing her gift with her daughter. The journal Michael Becker had kept became a gateway to understanding for Kristin. Still, she insisted Sally keep it. And when I asked her if she wanted to keep the pictures Petra had removed from the bedroom her father built for her, she insisted we should get rid of them.
I had been keeping this year’s anniversary gift a secret from Kristin for seven years. If this surprise didn’t work out the way I hoped it did, I just prayed it didn’t end in divorce.
I glanced down at my baby before I stepped into Amelia’s bedroom, shaking my head when I saw she had kicked off her covers again. She was splayed out across the mattress with her mouth hanging open, waves of golden-brown hair falling across her angelic face. Her pajama shirt with the bunny rabbit print was scrunched up, exposing her soft belly. It took everything in me not to wake her with a loud raspberry on her stomach.
I slowly sat on the edge of her bed, and her eyelids clicked open. The golden flecks in her green eyes shined in the morning sunlight.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” I said, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.
She reached up to brush her hair out of her face as her eyes widened with pure wonder. “Mommy, I dreamed—I dreamed—I dreamed I could fly.”
I smiled as I helped her get the rest of her hair out of her face. “Really? Where were you flying?”
She blinked furiously as she sat up, her face full of utter amazement as she stuck her arms out as if she were flying. “I flew over—over the pool. And you—and you and Daddy were watching me. And Daddy—Daddy couldn’t catch me!” she said, covering her mouth as she giggled.
“That doesn’t sound right.” Daniel’s voice startled us both. He took a seat on the other side of the mattress and pulled Amelia into his lap. “Daddy would never let you fly away,” he said, kissing her forehead and squeezing her tightly. “You’re mine forever and ever.”
There was nothing in the world that made me happier than the expression of pure love and adoration on Amelia’s face when her Daddy held her. It didn’t matter to me that she might never adore me as much as Daniel. Her love for him was too beautiful and unadulterated to ever begrudge.
“Good morning, baby,” he said, loosening his hold on her.
“Good morning, Daddy,” she replied, making no attempt to leave his lap.
I reached for her chubby toes and she giggled as I rolled them between my fingers, like plump peas. “Can we all see the surprise together?” I asked Daniel, loving the way Amelia’s face lit up at the mention of the word “surprise.”
“I want a surprise! Pleeeeeeee-ase!” she howled.
Daniel shot me a very unimpressed look, then he smiled down at Amelia. “Of course, baby. I’ll take you swimming today, then I’ll read you a book. A surprise book.”
Amelia clapped her hands together. “A surprise book about magic?”
“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you what the book is about.”
Her wispy eyebrows scrunched together, pleading with him. “Please, Daddy. I want a magic book.”
It never failed to amaze me how Amelia never stumbled over her words when she spoke to Daniel. It was almost as if she drew strength from him, the same way everyone else did. Like when Daniel’s sister Alisha almost gave up on college so she could move in with her boyfriend after graduating high school; the same boyfriend who had cheated on her in the first month of their relationship and dropped out of high school in his senior year.
Daniel never scolded Alisha. Instead, he took her and her boyfriend out to lunch with us, treating the guy as if he were already part of our family. Throughout the meal, I could see Alisha’s body language changing, leaning away from her boyfriend as she slowly began to realize he didn’t have the strength of character she deserved. The next day, Alisha announced she had decided to continue her education.
It was an interesting symbiosis. Daniel gave us strength by taking care of us. By being Amelia’s rock, she never felt frightened or uncertain around him. This made her stronger and more confident whenever Daddy was around. It was a beautiful thing to see.
As we walked along the brick-paved path toward the new art studio, I focused on chatting with Amelia to distract myself from speculating on how Kristin would react to her surprise.
“You want to visit Grandma today?” I asked her, but she didn’t reply, too busy contorting her hands and fingers into circles and squares and triangles. “Huh, baby? Wanna go see Grandma?”
Her eyebrows shot up and she nodded her head vigorously. “Can I take my Buddy?”
I smiled at the way she always remembered to ask permission. “Of course, baby.”
Amelia had been begging us for a dog since the moment she could speak. She was in love with Grandma Sally’s golden retriever, Bob
o. We got Amelia a stuffed golden retriever, and it didn’t surprise me one bit when she named the toy dog Buddy. I planned on getting her a real Buddy for her fourth birthday in a couple of months.
We arrived at the door to the two-story studio, a stunning building with a pitched roof, floor-to-ceiling windows, and golden cedar shingles, which would soon turn a dusty gray from the salty breeze. The curtains inside had been drawn shut for days as I prepared this surprise. I hoped she liked it.
We stopped at the arched red door and I turned to Kristin. “If you don’t like the surprise, just say the word and I’ll get rid of it.”
She rolled her eyes. “You have impeccable instincts when it comes to surprising me. I’m sure whatever it is you’re hiding in there will be exactly what I need, even if it’s not exactly what I want.”
I smiled at her diplomatic way of preparing me for the possibility that she may not like the gift. “I guess we’re about to find out if that’s true.”
I entered the code on the deadbolt, and the lock clicked. Pressing down the latch, I pushed open the door and the smell of fresh paint slammed into us. As planned, my surprise gift was the first thing you saw as you entered the studio. It would be the first thing she saw when she arrived in the morning, and the last thing she saw as she closed the door when leaving the studio for the day.
She stared at it for a very long time, my stomach doing cartwheels as I waited for her say anything. But all I could think was I fucked up.
I stared in complete shock at the framed black-and-white pictures on the wall, which surrounded a large porthole-like circular window that overlooked the ocean. My throat swelled shut as I was overwhelmed with emotion. From the instant I saw them, I knew the pictures were taken by my favorite photographer, Mikki Slayer. But Daniel must have hired her to take candids without my knowledge, because other than the few email messages we’d exchanged, I’d never met her in my life.
“How did you do this?” I whispered, though I already knew the answer. It was the same answer as always.
No one could resist Daniel. Not even the reclusive sculptor, Arturo Uribe, who Daniel was able to convince to give me private glass sculpting lessons. Apparently, Mikki Slayer could also not resist him.
The wall was covered in candid photos of Daniel, my mom, and me. In some photos, we were alone, and in others we were with Amelia. The pictures were stunning. No one could capture an honest moment the way Mikki could. But it was the pictures that were obviously not taken by her that surprised me most.
Photos of my father, and photos of me that were obviously taken by my father, told a story of a man I’d never known. A man I thought I’d never wanted to know. A man who it seemed, at some point in his cold, wretched life, may have actually loved me.
I pulled the neck of my tank top up to wipe the tears from my face, then I took a few more steps forward.
“Is it what you needed or what you wanted?” Daniel asked tentatively.
I turned to him and the uncertainty in his eyes made me love him even more. “It’s both,” I whispered, shaking my head as I held my arms out so he could hand over my baby girl. “I don’t know how you do it, how you continue to surprise me.”
He passed Amelia to me, then stood behind me, placing a heavy hand on my shoulder as we both gazed at the wall of memories. “It’s easy,” he said, placing a soft kiss on my ear. “You know all the times I complained about not being able to read your mind? Well, that was a lie. I can actually read your mind.”
I smiled as Amelia wiped some moisture from my chin. “Oh, really? What am I thinking now?”
He wrapped his arms around me, his hands cradling my abdomen. “You’re thinking… Hmmm, I really like the name Brutus.”
I shook my head and planted a loud kiss on Amelia’s cheek. “What do you think, baby? Do you want to name your new dog Brutus?”
Amelia’s eyes widened. “I get a dog? Where’s my dog?”
“Let’s go to the shelter and get you a puppy,” I said.
Amelia threw her arms into the air, her face lighting up with sheer glee as she cheered. “Thank you, Mommy!”
Daniel leaned forward and whispered in my ear. “Very clever, offering my son’s name to a dog.”
I smiled triumphantly as I turned to face him. “You should have seen that coming, mind reader.”
He shook his head, clutching his chest dramatically. “How could you Brutus to me?”
I looked up at him, my heart full with admiration. “Because I know you can take the heat. After all, you are my superhero.”
* * *
The End.
Get lost in another love story…
More books at cassialeo.com.
The moment you realize you’re going to die is nothing like I imagined it would be. I imagined a deep internal struggle coupled with a visceral, physical response – fight or flight. But there’s no fighting this. I’m going to die.
It’s possible that everyone on this plane is going to die. I wonder if they feel this overwhelming sense of peace, or if the squeal of the plane engine has drowned out all their thoughts.
He grabs the oxygen mask as it drops from the compartment and he’s yelling something as he puts the elastic band over my head. He pulls his own mask over his head then he grabs my hand and looks me in the eye. There’s no panic in his eyes. Maybe he feels this same calm I’m feeling. Or maybe he just wants me to know that he loves me.
He loves me.
Or maybe the look in his eyes is his way of telling me he trusts that whatever happens to us in the next few seconds was meant to be.
Fate.
I used to think fate was for religious nuts and people who were too afraid to take their fate into their own hands. Now I know the truth.
* * *
Rina,
* * *
Please don’t look for me. You probably won’t find me. This shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone, and please don’t blame yourselves. I’m just tired. Trying to cope … trying to forget … It’s not enough anymore. I just want to close my eyes and know that it will all be over soon. There’s nothing anyone could have done. You’ve all done more than enough. I hope you all find peace knowing I am no longer suffering. I love you guys. Tell Meaghan I leave her my black box.
* * *
Mikki
* * *
I used to write long suicide letters, but I don’t see the point in it anymore. If I’m going to leave this world a better place, I don’t want to leave behind a ten-page letter detailing all my emotional baggage. Besides, most of the people who know me, the ones close enough to read the letter, already know how screwed up I am.
I tuck the note inside a plastic baggie and seal it tightly, then I lift my bedroom window an inch and lay the bagged note on the windowsill. I shut the window tight to trap the note there.
Taking one last look around the bedroom, I smile as I think of how much I won’t miss this house. The pink tulip-shaped knit cap my best friend Rina bought for me in Holland sits on top of my dresser. I’ve only worn it once, the day she brought it back for me from her family vacation last summer. I was in High Point Treatment Center at the time, in the dual diagnosis unit because I’m one of the special cases that needed treatment for attempted suicide and drug detox.
“You look awfully cheerful for someone who’s traveling alone.” Meaghan’s green eyes follow my suitcase as I drag it behind me, violently bumping along the stairs.
My sister is seventeen, but she’s not stupid. She knows the signs, which is why I’m trying my hardest not to exhibit the typical suicidal behavior. I didn’t give away all my belongings. I’m not traveling light. I have tried not to appear too chipper over the last couple of days. Yes, it feels amazing to have a plan. It feels like a ten-ton slab of cement has been lifted off my chest. I can breathe. I can think about the future without the crippling anxiety and depression that comes with not knowing if the pain will ever end.
But I can’t let Meaghan or my parents see how
ridiculously relieved I’m feeling. They’ve seen that behavior too many times. The last time I made plans to die, three months ago, my mom saw the signs and followed me to the hotel room where I was going to hang myself. The time before that, I swallowed a bottle of pills in my uncle’s bathroom. It was my cousin Gertie who noticed I was acting too happy. She told my Uncle Cort, “Mikki is smiling again.” Uncle Cort broke down the bathroom door and that’s when I ended up in High Point. That’s also when I swore I wouldn’t commit suicide anywhere that someone could find me.
“Cheerful?” I repeat Meaghan’s adjective as I pull up the telescoping handle on the suitcase and roll it across the tiled foyer toward the front door. “More like nervous as fuck. I’ve never flown without Mom.”
Meaghan yanks her green parka out of the coat closet and pulls it on over her hoodie. “I’ll take that.” She pulls the hood of the parka over her long, brown hair and grabs my carry-on bag.
I open the door and we both suck in a sharp breath when we’re blasted with a flurry of freezing winter air. The snow sticks to my face and I quickly close the front door so it doesn’t get inside the house.
“Jesus fucking Christ. It’s colder than a witch’s tit out here. They’re going to cancel the flights if this shit keeps up,” Meaghan says as we carefully descend the front steps. My dad covered the steps in his special mixture of salt and sand, but it’s not foolproof.
“I have to at least show up. I saved up three months’ paychecks for this fucking ticket.”
Meaghan opens the wooden front gate and the cab driver scurries out of the car to help us with the bags. As he stuffs the bags into the trunk, I turn to Meaghan and she’s crying. Something tells me she knows. But she would stop me if she knew – wouldn’t she?