Yesterday Is Gone

by HJ Bellus

  “She wanted to stand on top of the swing and show me a dance move. I told her it was too dangerous, and when I turned my back…” Mom’s tears dance in her own eyes.

  Jules places a hand on Mom’s forearm. “It’s fine, Carolyn. That’s Whit for you. If her mind was set on it, she wouldn’t stop until she tried it out.”

  “I don’t think anything is broken. She just knocked the wind out of herself,” Mom replies. “I checked everything.”

  That eases the worry right out of me. Mom was a nurse for years before retiring. Whit’s sobs continue.

  Jules steps up to us, reaching up on her tiptoes to whisper in her ear. “You’re okay, baby girl. You need to relax and next time listen when an adult tells you something.”

  Whit’s chest wracks against mine as she does her best to calm herself down.

  “I’ll take her upstairs and take a nap with her,” I offer. “That way you can stay down here and see if your nana needs anything.”

  Jules nibbles on her bottom lip, nervous about the whole idea. I don’t push her and give her time to think it through.

  “Please, Momma,” Whit mumbles in my chest.

  “Yeah, I’ll be up in a bit. A nap does sound pretty damn good right now.” Jules kisses Whit’s cheek then grabs my mom’s hand. I watch the two of them disappear through the opening of the old barn.

  By the time I make it up the staircase, Whit’s breathing has evened out. She doesn’t even budge when I lay her in the bed. I glance out Jules’ childhood bedroom window with the barn coming into view. I’m torn between going out there and helping or lying down next to my sweet girl.

  Whit’s light snores win over my heart. I toe off my boots and undo the first few buttons of my dress shirt before settling in next to her.

  “Daddy,” she mumbles and rolls over to face me while snuggling down in my chest.

  “I’m here.” I brush away the hair matted to her face from her tears.

  “You promise you’re not going to get too busy again?”

  I can barely make out the words between the sleep attacking them. I tug her to my chest, holding her as close as possible.

  “Baby, I promise. Don’t you ever worry about that.”

  My eyelids grow heavy with Whit’s rhythmic breathing lulling me to sleep. Her sweet scent of lingering cherries is the last thing I remember before giving in to sleep.

  ***

  Jules

  “I never thought they’d get the hell out of here.” Nana plops down in Papa’s recliner.

  “Me too.” I kick back my foot and unstrap each shoe. “I’m going to go check on Whit then be right back.”

  “Good, because I need a drinking partner tonight.” Nana flashes a smile at me.

  My black heels dangle off my fingertips. I shake my head. Nana is quite the light drinker, but I have a feeling she’s really going to tie one on.

  The stairs creak as I tiptoe up them. The sound is deafening in the quiet house. I peek through the open door to my room before entering.

  A genuine smile graces my lips as I lean on the doorjamb, watching Jessie’s hulking frame with Whit curled up in his side. It’s picture perfect and oh so effortless. I find myself easing next to the bed, leaning over and kissing Whit’s forehead, then my lips glide across the scruff of Jessie’s jaw. The sensation coursing through me makes me drunk while my heart squeezes painfully. It was natural and not even an action I had to think twice about.

  Reaching behind me, I go to unzip my dress. I’m startled when a large palm glides up my back and undoes it for me. I clutch the material to my chest and peer over my shoulder. Jessie stares up at me through sleepy eyes. I press my finger to my lips, and he nods.

  I pad into the bathroom and slip out of my dress, climbing into a well-loved pair of yoga pants and a baggy shirt. Jessie is out when I grab my MacBook and slip out of the room. I reach behind me and run my hand over the place his palm grazed down my skin. My flesh sears to life.

  “They out?” Nana asks as I take the last step.

  She’s armed with one of Papa’s bottles of bourbon, two tumblers, and ice.

  “They are. Exhaustion finally won over with my little girl.”

  “You were just like her when you were little. You’d go and go and go until you couldn’t anymore. It typically ended with you in tears and Jessie crashing next to you on the couch.” She pours a stout glass of bourbon.

  “Do you think I’m a fool for letting him back in so easily?” I ask, curling my legs on the couch and setting my MacBook in my lap.

  “I think you’d be a fool not to give it another chance. You never know what tomorrow will bring. I’d say love the hell out of anyone you want and live with no regrets.” She takes her first gulp of the drink and then passes me mine.

  I humor her by taking light sips. There’s no way in hell I want another hangover like the last one, but there’s something so peaceful and serene about sharing this moment with her. A sweet ending to one of the hardest days of our lives.

  She makes damn good on her promise, pounding the bourbon and telling her favorite stories about Papa. I listen to each word while accepting changes in my manuscript and polishing up a few spots that needed desperate attention.

  A massive smile forms on my face when I press the send button on the email. Finishing a book never grows old. It’s happiness and accomplishment all balled together, then the nerves settle in. It’s like sending your first born to preschool and not being able to stand by their side to protect them.

  Nana’s light snores float around in the living room. She drifted off a few minutes ago. I grab Papa’s blanket and wrap her up in it. I’m shocked I haven’t heard any movement upstairs. That means Whit will be up super early in the morning since she’s still out. I creep up the stairs and pause halfway, glancing back down at the living room and back up to my room. I nibble on my bottom lip, trying to decide what to do. My body has one idea it’s certain about, and my mind screams another thing.

  “Live your life, Jules. Do what makes you happy.”

  It’s as if I can hear my papa’s voice encouraging me to be me and live life. It’s something he had to do when my world was turned upside down. No more what-ifs. It’s time to follow my heart. It’s always belonged to one man.

  Whit has wiggled to the side of the bed with Jessie sprawled out in the center, leaving me just enough room to cuddle up to his other side. I slip my hands underneath the soft cotton t-shirt and slip my bra off. I toss my reading glasses on the nightstand. Getting older and spending more time on the computer hasn’t been easy on the eyes. I just haven’t bitten the bullet and bought prescription glasses yet.

  The bed dips as my knee sinks into its softness. I ease my way in the bed, tugging a bit on the pillow just enough to rest my head on. Jessie stirs a bit. I notice he still has his socks on. I creep down and tug them off then pull a blanket up to cover all three of us. Jessie stretches out on his back. I have no idea if he’s awake or dead asleep. He gives nothing away. His silent offer of shelter stretches out next to me.

  I curl up into his side, splaying my hand over his chest. I let it linger there for several seconds before reaching over to rest my hand on Whit’s back. I snuggle down deeper, inhaling the scent of my home.

  Jessie’s free arm falls by my side. He palms my ass, pulling me closer to home. I have no worries in the world when my eyes flutter shut, and that’s something I haven’t said in years.

  Chapter 12

  Jessie

  “See ya, Coach.” Monty, a rookie, waves as he jogs off the field. It’s been a week since I woke up with both of my girls snuggled in at my side. It hasn’t happened again, and that fact guts me every night when I lie down on my cold, frigid sheets. Not much sleep ever comes as I toss and turn, knowing what’s missing from my life.

  Jules has pulled back from me. There’s been no hand holding or shared tender kisses. She talks minimally at most to me. The one thing she hasn’t done is keep Whit from me. As promised, I get t
o take her to dance class. Today is her second class, and I may be more excited than her.

  “Jessie.”

  I glance down to Whit, who’s keeping up at my side. I smile at the cuteness and don’t even care that she calls me by my name now and then. I was shocked as hell when Jules let her come to practice with me. Whit got wind of it and begged her mom. Works out perfectly since her dance class is in fifteen minutes. If I would’ve had to run out to the farm and back into town, we for sure would’ve been a good ten minutes late.

  “What, baby girl?” I adjust the bag of the footballs slung over my shoulder.

  “Why did you tell that nice boy he’d better run like a motherfucker like his ass was on fire?”

  I clear my throat, nearly choking on my own tongue. My spine stiffens, and it takes everything inside of me not to freeze in my steps.

  “What did you say?” I clutch the strings of the football bag until my knuckles grow white. “Wait. Never mind, don’t answer that. You were wearing headphones practicing a new dance on the bleachers. How did you hear me?”

  She ducks her head, glancing at the ground. “Your face turned really red like you were trying to poop. One time Momma couldn’t poop, and her tummy hurt. Her face looked like yours. I got worried, so I took off my headphones and heard you yelling, ‘Run, motherfucker, like your ass is on fire.’”

  I drop to one knee, placing a gentle hand on the top of her shoulder. “Whit, never repeat those words.”

  “Which ones?” She tilts her head in question.

  “The very bad ones. I’m pretty sure you know what I’m talking about.”

  “Motherfucker and ass?” She bites her bottom lip, trapping a smile, but I can sense a storm brewing behind her loving eyes.

  Oh, this girl can play her cards damn well.

  “Yes, those words.” I take a deep breath, drop the ball bag, and grip the top of my ball cap that’s placed backward on my head. “They’re adult words and ugly ones at that. I get pretty fired up when I’m coaching. I’ll try better when you’re around, okay?”

  She nods. Her eyes well up with tears, but none spill over. Her mischievous smile is long gone in the hot summer breeze. “Momma hates football. She doesn’t hate anything but football. I’ve seen her cry over it.”

  “Whit.” Her name ghosts off my lips. “Baby, it’s okay.”

  I cradle the back of her head and bring it to my chest, running my palm up and down her back.

  She sobs into my neck. “You love football. It’s your favorite like dance is mine. And Momma hates it. You’re going to get too busy with football, aren’t you, Jessie?”

  Her words make me flop back down to my ass. I bring her with me, keeping my sweet baby girl clutched to my chest, soaking up all of her innocent worries. Not one day will go by that I don’t regret my decision to be a selfish prick. I’ve damaged far more things than I ever thought. It’s going to take years to prove to my little girl that I won’t be going anywhere or, for that fact, miss spending a day with her.

  I open my mouth to reassure her, but the words clog deep in my throat. The honest truth is there are no words that can fix or even begin to heal the wound I’ve inflicted on this sweet soul. It’s going to take repeated action in Whit’s life until there’s no doubt or worry left in her mind.

  “I hear you, baby.” I kiss the top of her head. “I do love football. It is my dance. But it will never ever come between me and you or your mom, for that fact. I promise, baby girl. I know this is scary and so new for you. I promise you that I’ll show you every single day that I’ll never be too busy for you.”

  Again. Again, I think in my head that was the biggest mistake of my life. I could beat myself up for it while drowning in a bottle of whiskey, but there’s this little girl in my lap who means so much more.

  I give Whit time to dry her tears and pull herself together. I reach down, fluffing out her neon tutu when she peers up at me. Her tears have vanished, and that contagious toothy grin reappears.

  “I know, Daddy. It’s just scary. Momma has been crying every night, and so has Nana. I’m just nervous.”

  “That’s okay, honey.” I cup her face. “It’s all natural. We are all feeling crazy and different emotions. It’s good that you can talk about them and not keep them bottled up. You know you can always talk to me about anything, right?”

  She nods her head then peers down at the sparkles on the front of her t-shirt. She begins twirling one of them around.

  “And Whit, if you don’t like coming to football practice with me, you don’t have to. I want you to be happy.”

  Her crazy curls whip up in my direction. “Daddy, I love it. Makes me feel kinda bad because Momma hates it. But up in those stands, it felt like the biggest stage for me to practice on.”

  I glance over to the aluminum bleachers. They’re nothing fancy and average in size, but I can see how they’d look in her eyes. In the middle of them, there’s a large platform where the school band sets up and plays during home games. I’m taken back to memories of Jules and me making out underneath them so many years ago. Hell, we even went further than that.

  I glance back at her and tap her nose. “Then anytime you want to come, you can.”

  She hops up from my lap, spinning in a circle and shaking her little hips, then holds out a hand to me. “I’ll help you, Daddy.”

  She has no idea how much power are in those four simple words. It’s the key with the potential to unlock a world of answers I’ve been chasing for the last five years. I reach up and hold onto her petite hand. I pretend it’s Whit who pulls me up with all her strength.

  After grabbing the ball bag, I grab her hand, and we begin walking to my truck. I toss the bag in the bed of the truck and then hoist Whit up into the passenger seat. I bought a booster seat just for my truck, and it happened to be pink and sparkly with little ballerinas fluttering all over it.

  “Daddy.” She grabs my hand once I click the buckle.

  “Yeah.” I look down at her, wondering what is coming next.

  “Momma says ‘you rotten bastards’ all the time while driving in California.” She covers her mouth with her free hand and giggles behind it.

  “Oh, Whit.” I ruffle her hair and do my best not to laugh at her adorable innocence and zest for life. She’s a breath of fresh air in a world filled with stress and longing. I give in, unable to hold it in any longer. I throw my head back to the heavens and roar out my laughter. The harder I laugh, the louder Whit’s giggles grow. It continues for extended minutes. It’s the perfect release from the intense conversation on the football field.

  ***

  My skin crawls as the prying eyes of women I went to high school with rake up and down my body along with the other women in town. The judgmental stares commenced the day after Jules’ grandfather was buried. The town whispers are loud enough to deafen a person. In the true fashion of gossip, not one brave soul has dared to approach me about it.

  I don’t give these nosey no-goods a second glance. My vision stays focused on my little girl who outshines everyone in her class. While the other girls struggle to keep up with the instructions, Whit is a step ahead of her teacher. She practices a new move and has it down.

  This session she’s enrolled in a hip-hop class. Didn’t stop her from wearing her tutu and pirouetting every chance she could get. She’d stripped off her sparkly shirt once her foot stepped into the dance studio only to reveal a bedazzled leotard or whatever in the hell they’re called.

  When class is called, Whit doesn’t rush to me like the other girls do their parents. She faces the wall covered in mirrors, drops her head for a few beats, and then flawlessly goes through the new dance she was taught today, not missing a beat. She does all of this without one single note of music.

  Goddamn pride like no other swells in my chest. This isn’t some silly infatuation of a little girl. It’s her passion. I can see it in her eyes, the determination on each of her features, the sheer concentration she puts into every mo
ve, and above all the dazzling smile when she finishes.

  I stand to my feet once she executes the last move and begin slowly clapping. Whit whips her head in my direction with a heart-stopping grin that I’ll never forget. It’s the promise of a future I don’t deserve but am damn willing to take and make the best of it.

  “Did you like it, Daddy?” Whit races over to me.

  I bend down just in time to scoop her up in my arms. Hers go tight around my neck. I probably squeeze a bit too tight but can’t help it.

  “I loved it, baby girl. Holy crap, you’re amazing.”

  Yeah, not the best choice of words. But it does explain exactly how I feel. I don’t miss the hushed whispers about wondering how Shayna was doing with all of this. I’d be a liar if I said it didn’t make my blood boil. I ignore them because of the sweetest gift in my arms overpowers and trumps everything.

  Once Whit’s feet hit the ground, she races off to her dance instructor, who’s talking to another woman. She waits patiently until she’s finished.

  “Do you need something, Whit?” The instructor turns to her, bending down to get on her level.

  Whit shakes her head. “No, I just wanted to tell you thank you for class.”

  Will this girl ever cease to amaze me?

  “You are so welcome, sweetie.” The young teacher wraps her up in a hug. “I love having you in class.”

  Whit beams with pride and then races back over to me. She tucks her shoes back in her bag that has her name embroidered on it while slipping on her flip-flops. I know none of this shit is cheap. It amazes me how Jules pulled all of this off over the years.

  “Ready?” I hold my hand out.

  Whit grimaces and then dances around. “I have to potty, Daddy.”

  “Okay.” We scope out the bathroom, and I usher her over to it.

  She’s not in the bathroom for thirty seconds before she’s calling out for help. I drop my head to the door and grumble to myself. I can handle anything with her, but this has to be the most awkward shit ever.