Dear Life

by Meghan Quinn

  Not seeing Daisy in the room, I head out the door where I immediately see her sitting on the cold stone steps of the church. Her arms crossed over her chest and leaning forward. Denver doesn’t get very cold in March like in the Northeast, but there is still a nip in the air.

  “Daisy.”

  Turning her head, she looks back at me but then focuses straight ahead again. Knowing I’m going to have to tread lightly with her, I sit down so our shoulders are touching.

  Ways of apologizing flow through my head, but none of them sound right, so I go with the truth. “The reason I lived with my uncle was because my parents overdosed. Marleen’s story hit a little close to home for me. Instead of being an adult and addressing my feelings, I took them out on you. I’m sorry.”

  There, that wasn’t so hard, even though I can taste blood in my mouth from gnawing on my cheek.

  “You don’t have to explain, Carter.”

  “I don’t want you to be upset.”

  She shrugs her shoulders. “You don’t owe me anything. It’s not like we’re together.”

  Not together?

  Now why the fuck does that comment make me want to start punching the stone of the sanctuary we sit on?

  I don’t get a chance to answer her when she lets out a long breath. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “What do you mean?” I don’t like how cryptic she’s being.

  “Nothing.” Standing, she brushes off her bottom and takes off toward the door, but I don’t let her get too far before yanking on her shoulder and spinning her around to face me.

  “Daisy, what the hell are you talking about?”

  “Don’t swear at me.” She points her finger, trying to lecture me.

  Rolling my eyes, I answer, “I said hell. It’s not like I told you to fuck off.” She tries to spin away again but I stop her, this time pinning her against the wall. “Tell me what’s going on?”

  Not happy, she reluctantly answers me. “I mustered up a lot of confidence to ask you a question today but you’re in such a bad mood, that I don’t even want to ask you now. I just want to forget the whole thing.”

  A question? Now I’m really intrigued.

  Shifting in place, a lightness to my voice and in ease in my features, I ask, “You want to ask me a question, Snowflake? Well, don’t hold out on me now. What is it?”

  “No, forget it. It was stupid.”

  “You’ll never know if it’s stupid until you ask me.”

  “Ugh, you’re not supposed to say that. You’re supposed to say nothing you could ask me is stupid.”

  “Come on.” I quirk my lips to the side. “I’m not going to lie. What if you asked me something like what are those jiggly milk sacs on your chest? That would be a stupid question because you and me both know they are your fantastic tits.” I move a little closer, capturing her with my strong, broad body.

  “I don’t like the term milk sacs.”

  Chuckling, I say, “Fair enough. Now tell me, what is your question?”

  She bites her lower lip, trying to decide if she’s going to ask me. Little does she know, she’s not going back inside until she asks. She won’t be able to get away that easily.

  “Come on, Snowflake. The longer you wait, the more of the meeting we’ll miss.”

  “Fine.” She takes a deep breath and says, “My sister is getting married in a few weeks. She said I could invite a guest so I was wondering if you wanted to go with me. You know, to the wedding.” She swallows hard and adds, “As my date.”

  Weddings. I would love to say I’m Vince Vaughn from Wedding Crashers when it comes to weddings, but I’m the exact opposite. I can’t stand them. They are an extreme waste of money that can be put toward buying a house, rather than a party most people won’t remember because they’ll be so damn twisted from the open bar.

  My first instinct is to say no thanks, but when I meet Daisy’s eyes, when she gives me the most pathetic plea using just those blue irises, I feel myself cracking once again. She can get me to do anything, I’m convinced of it.

  “A wedding?” I ask, delaying the inevitable.

  “Yeah. It might be fun.” She fidgets in place. “There will be wedding cake. If anything, you can go to eat the cake.”

  “I can eat cake anytime. Give me a better reason.” I smirk, lacing our fingers together.

  From the tilt of my lips, her eyes light up and she smiles brightly at me. Accepting the challenge, she answers, “Um, open bar?”

  “Good answer, but getting drunk with a bunch of sweaty, pelvic-thrusting strangers is not my favorite thing to do on a Saturday night.”

  Looking to the side, she searches for another answer. “You get to slow dance with me.”

  Taking her hands, I place them around my waist and pull her in close. Moving her side to side, I say, “I’m slow dancing with you right now. Try again.”

  Moving back and forth, her eyes really studying me, intent on finding a reason, she answers, “I’ve got it.”

  “You don’t have it,” I tease.

  She shakes her head. “No, I’ve got it. If you come to the wedding you get to see me in one of the prettiest dresses ever.”

  “Prettiest dresses ever?” I ask with a raised eyebrow. “Is this the same dress you never sent me a picture of? The one you keep mentioning?”

  “The one and only,” she replies with a knowing smile.

  “How pretty are we talking?”

  She leans in closer, her lips pressing against my chin. “Very pretty.”

  “I don’t know . . .” I drag out.

  “Stop making this difficult for me,” she says, laughing nervously. “Talk about facing my fears. It’s not easy asking a guy like you out on a date. Let alone a guy in general.”

  “A guy like me?”

  “Yeah, a guy like you.”

  “Shall I ask you to elaborate?”

  “Best that you don’t.” I love how she can still tease me when feeling insecure. Just goes to show how strong she really is.

  “Okay, you got a date, Snowflake.”

  “Really?” She bounces in my arms. “You’ll go with me?”

  “I’ll go with you, on one condition.”

  “What’s that?” She snuggles into my chest, hugging me tightly.

  “You go home with me after the wedding.”

  “That’s presumptuous. I haven’t even met the groomsmen yet.” Little minx.

  “Don’t even start with me,” I warn. “You’re going home with me.”

  “Only if I can drive your bike,” she counters.

  “How did this become a bargaining discussion? You’re supposed to be convincing me why I should be going. I don’t understand how this got switched around.”

  “It’s because—”

  “Is this what you’ve been doing at these meetings?” A deep, semi-slurring voice breaks my connection with Daisy, raising the hairs on the back of my neck. What the fuck? Turning, I see the one man I could go the rest of my life never laying eyes on again.

  Uncle Chuck.

  My eyes close tightly, wiling him to leave without another word. When I open them, I see him appear from around the darkly lit corner, his belly leading the way, his ever-ready scowl of indignation present.

  “What are you doing here?” I shift Daisy behind me, trying to shield her from whatever my deviant uncle is up to.

  “Came to check up on you, to make sure you’re actually going to these meetings and completing the tasks. From the look of it, instead of taking part of the class, you’re fucking around like usual.”

  “I’m not fucking around,” I grit out, tension rolling off me.

  “If I may,” Daisy says, holding up her finger and coming around from behind me, “we are on a break. Carter is very much a participator.”

  “Daisy,” I warn.

  “What?” She glances at me. “It’s true.” Turning back to my uncle, completely oblivious to the palpable hatred flowing between this ignorant man and myself,
she says, “Carter is very active in the meetings. He’s always defending and supporting me.”

  Uncle Chuck shakes his head, his jowls jiggling in sarcastic laughter. “Sorry to say, but you’re blind there, sweetheart. The boy wants in your pants. It’s the only reason he’s paying attention to you. Believe me, I’ve seen the way he works.”

  A small gasp pops out of Daisy, and I hate the worry I see in her features.

  Calmly, I say, “Daisy, go back inside. I’ll be right there.”

  “But—”

  “Go back inside,” I snap at her, hating the rise in tone of my voice. She needs to fucking listen.

  “That kind of tone is never going to get her to spread her legs, son.” Uncle Chuck has his arms crossed, smugness in his stance. Bastard.

  Not for long. I charge after him, fisting his shirt and bringing his face close to mine. Daisy squeals from my abrupt actions.

  “Go ahead, say one more disgusting and derogatory word about her. I dare you, you piece of shit. I would love more than anything to smash your skull against this concrete.”

  “Carter, don’t hurt him,” Daisy cries out.

  “I told you to go back inside.”

  “Better do as he says,” Uncle Chuck says, his eyes never leaving mine. “I’m sure he doesn’t want me airing his dirty laundry in front of you.”

  “Maybe we can all just be friends and talk about our differences,” Daisy offers, shifting in place nervously to the side.

  “Yeah, Carter, let’s all be friends and talk. Maybe your little friend wants to talk about Sasha, your girlfriend.”

  “What?” Daisy asks on a gasp.

  “You motherfucker.” Not even thinking about the consequences, I shove my uncle backward, sending him a few feet into some bushes, holding out on the violent actions I really want to take. Leaving him behind, I press my hand on Daisy’s back and guide her back inside of the church hall.

  “You have a girlfriend?” she asks once we are inside.

  “No.” I don’t even bother going into everything. There is no need. It’s not true. I didn’t have a girlfriend the minute Sasha took off.

  “Then what is he talking about?” She stumbles as we walk down the hallway. I catch her with my hands wrapped around her waist before she falls forward, face first.

  “Careful,” I reprimand.

  Spinning around, she pokes her chest. “Don’t talk to me like that. Like I’m some juvenile. I may be inexperienced but I’m still a grown-up, I don’t need you treating me like a child.”

  “I’m not treating you like a child.”

  “You are. You’re trying to shield me. I could have handled that man.”

  Frustrated with everything, I run my hand over my face. I know Daisy could have handled my uncle. There is no doubt in my mind that she could have at least killed him with kindness; that’s the kind of woman she is. That wasn’t the issue.

  “I wasn’t shielding you from him, Daisy. I know you can handle yourself. I was shielding you from anything he might say about me. You’re already out of my league with your pure heart. I didn’t need him saying anything that might taint your view of me. And that’s exactly what happened.”

  “Maybe you should trust me rather than assuming the worst of me, Carter. I can and already have formed my own opinion of you, and I don’t need that man’s help. And right about now, my opinion of you is quite low, not because of what he said, but because of the way you don’t trust me.” She goes to leave but then turns around, determination in her eyes. “Weren’t you the one who said ‘own you’? Maybe try living by your own words, Carter, you might be surprised what you find.”

  Without another word, she heads off to the church hall to join the rest of the group, leaving me to chew on my own damn words.

  Own you.

  Yeah, fuck that. What is there to own? I’m a pathetic mess of a man with no future in sight. Who the hell would want to own that?

  ***

  Dear Life,

  Learn something new. That was the task this past session. At first, I thought maybe I let the program down, never really fixating on something to learn, something real. That was until I sat down in class today and listened to Marleen’s story.

  Learn something new.

  I didn’t learn a concrete task, something tangible that I could hold in my hand like how to throw pottery, or how to make the perfect chocolate soufflé. This was something internal, some serious soul-searching stuff.

  I learned something new about myself. There is a strength within me I didn’t know existed. I took a step forward. It was the first time in the past year and a half I blacked out my past and lived in the present. I had no idea I could even do such a thing, to look past my demons, the heaviness of loss weighing over me, and enjoy the moment.

  And I did.

  The only problem? I feel guilty as hell, even though it felt so good. And I have no idea what my next step is.

  Sincerely,

  Hollyn

  Dear Life,

  One step forward, two steps back.

  I finally felt courageous and asked for something I wanted. I was so nervous and so unsure. He makes me feel that, and I don’t think that is how one should feel in a relationship.

  What is the definition of a relationship and what is the definition of what Carter and I share? Because frankly, I’m so confused. It was never this hard for ladies like Marilyn Monroe and Rosemary Clooney. They were able to easily fall in love, yes they had their blips in the road, but their relationships were well defined. How come mine isn’t?

  Is Carter still hung up on this ex-girlfriend? Does he really want to use me for a physical connection and that’s it?

  This whole program was supposed to be about changing me, about living, so why do I feel so stuck again? I’m checking off the boxes, I’m moving forward, but instead of a leisurely drive, I’m riding one heck of a roller coaster.

  Maybe this is what life is. One giant, nauseating, and confusing roller coaster. Funny, coming from the girl who was born and raised on a merry-go-round.

  Kind regards,

  Daisy

  Dear Life,

  Have you ever wrestled so much with your emotions that you feel almost paralyzed?

  That’s where I am. Paralyzed.

  Hollyn, hell, being with her was one of the most raw and carnal things I’ve ever experienced. As if we were meant to heal each other. I woke up that next morning feeling so damn alive that the plague of Hope’s future didn’t touch me immediately.

  But that didn’t last long, not when my lawyer called, informing me that Rebecca might actually have a valid case, and we might have to go to court. How is that even possible? That’s what I want to know. How on earth can someone change their mind about a baby? She signed the papers, and that should be binding. This isn’t elementary school where we can fight over “take-backsies.”

  This is a real human life.

  The only thing I have going for me right now, the knowledge that Rebecca’s living arrangements, employment, and mental state don’t make her suitable enough to care for Hope.

  I just can’t comprehend her thinking in this entire mess. I don’t think I ever will.

  Jace

  Dear Life,

  Own you, yeah, fuck you.

  Carter

  Step Six: Face Your Fears

  HOLLYN

  “Pass the Cheez Whiz, you’ve been hogging it this entire time,” I say, reaching for the slowly diminishing can of processed goodness.

  “Don’t even think about it.” My hand is slapped away by Grams, Daisy’s grandma. “I’m old and wrinkly, therefore I get to bogart the Cheez Whiz.”

  I slouch down in the corner seat of the couch. “But I was the one who brought it.”

  Grams pats my leg and sprays a pile into her mouth. “And I already said thank you, dearie. Hasn’t anyone ever told you gloating doesn’t look good on you?”

  Shocked, I look to Daisy for help but she just shrugs her shoulders a
pologetically. “She likes the Whiz.”

  “You have to let the elderly get what they want,” Amanda says, licking a Tootsie Pop. Like, actually licking.

  “Don’t you know if you suck on the lollipop, you will get to the center faster?” I suggest, my tongue feeling her tongue’s pain with every scrape of her taste bud against the hard-coated candy.

  “Sometimes it’s not about instant gratification, but the road you take to get there,” Amanda says, licking again with a purpose.

  “I would rather have instant gratification. I’m a sucker.” I wink.

  Amanda smirks. “As long as you don’t swallow, then we’re good.”

  “Huh?” Daisy asks, looking between us at our interaction.

  Grams sprays cheese in her mouth and says, “They’re talking about sexual favors, dearie. It’s something we didn’t go over while we were living together. Would you like to talk about it now?”

  All three of us shout “No” at the same time. I like Grams, I think she’s a pretty cool lady, but by no means do I want to sit around Amanda’s couch and discuss sexual favors with her.

  “All right.” Grams shrugs. “But I’m here if you want to talk about pleasure without repercussions.”

  “Grams!” Daisy’s face is bright red and for the first time all night and since I saw her at the meeting last night, she doesn’t have a worried wrinkle in her brow.

  “Oh dearie, it’s good to educate yourself, especially with that beau of yours, Carter.”

  “He’s not my beau,” Daisy corrects her quickly. “He’s just a . . .” she searches for the right word, “he’s a guy I know.”

  Huh, not even a friend, I wonder what happened last night.

  “What do you mean a guy you know?” Grams asks. “You have been fawning over this man for weeks. What’s going on?”

  Sighing, Daisy sinks into the couch, her cloud pajama pants riding up her ankles. “I don’t think he sees me as a woman, but rather just a naïve girl. I’m trying to get away from that girl. I want to be the woman I saw in the mirror when I tried on my bridesmaid dress.”

  “Then be her,” Amanda says with conviction. “Don’t let anyone dictate who you’re supposed to be. You and you alone can make that decision.”