Dear Life

by Meghan Quinn

  “Maybe.” I smile. “She’s so full of life, so happy.” Hope smiles some more, her eyes focusing on my hat. “You want to wear my hat?” I take it off and place it gently over her head and the bow. It’s entirely too big on her but she still looks like the prettiest little girl I’ve ever seen.

  “This is such a special moment to us,” June says between wiping happy tears off her cheeks. “We want you to have a relationship with her Jace, Rebecca too. We’re a family.”

  A family.

  My chest tightens from the thought of being included in this beautiful little trio. A family—what I craved most growing up. Sleeping in my cold bed, wondering if the next day would be the day someone would come and adopt me, hoping and praying that one day, I would have a set of parents who loved me. I’ve craved this, and they’re handing it to me on a silver platter.

  “You really want me to be a part of your life? Isn’t that going to be confusing for Hope?”

  “Not unless we make it confusing.” Alex steps in and squats down to my level. “Jace, you’re her birth father, if you want to have a relationship with Hope, then we want you to have one as well. Same with Rebecca. You both did the most selfless thing possible, you brought joy to our lives, you gave us Hope.”

  I can’t help but see the double meaning in that sentence. You gave us Hope.

  Little do they know, they’re the ones who actually gave me hope.

  DAISY

  “Done!” I raise my hands in the air and bounce on my toes, eyeing my creation.

  Nailed it. I so nailed it.

  “This wasn’t timed,” Mary Fran says as she leans over the counter to check out my Banana Split Bundt Cake.

  The last few days have been spent in my very own—rented—kitchen, working on the perfect recipe to showcase at my interview with local baker, Mary Fran, the goddess who owns Squeeze Bundt, which is next to the Colorado Miners stadium. Matt was telling me the team is always ordering from Mary Fran, and they’re actually thinking about putting a mini kiosk of Squeeze Bundt in the stadium during games.

  When I talked to Mary Fran, who said she was looking for help, I had no problem dropping Matt’s name. I wanted to do this on my own, but I’m not so prideful that I wouldn’t give myself an edge. My dad’s money is only going to last for so long and getting a job is the final step of becoming that confident, self-sufficient woman in the mirror.

  “Tell me what you made me.”

  Gladly.

  Moving the plate closer to her, I spin it around so she can see all sides and tell her exactly what’s inside. “This is my Banana Split Bundt Cake. It has a banana cake base, chocolate chips and strawberries inside, with a vanilla and chocolate fudge icing, topped with chopped nuts, rosettes of whip cream, and cherries.” I hand her a fork. “Enjoy.”

  “I’m impressed, Daisy. Did you come up with this recipe on your own?”

  “My grams and I loved making Bundt cakes. We tried every recipe we came across and then started coming up with our own. This was one of my favorites.”

  She nods and dips her fork into the moist—yes, I said moist—cake. I wait on bated breath for her reaction, an adrenaline rush pumping through my veins. She has to like it; there’s no doubt in my mind she’ll like it. The question is, will she like it enough to hire me?

  As she chews, her eyes close briefly, and I take that as a good sign. Practically bouncing off the walls, I clasp my hands in front of my chest.

  “What do you think?”

  She set the fork down and gives me a smile. “When can you start?”

  “Really?” I squeal and launch myself into Mary Fran’s arms. “Are you serious?” I shake the poor woman up and down as I hug her.

  Stilling my shoulders, she gives us some space and laughs. “I’m serious. You have exactly what I’m looking for. We might have to work on our personal space, but I think you’re going to be the perfect addition.”

  “Oh gosh, this is so exciting. Grams is going to drop dead from elation when I tell her. When can I start?”

  “I asked you that same question.” The humor in Mary Fran’s voice reassures me that we’re going to get along just fine.

  “Anytime. I’m free whenever.” I’m way too eager right now, but I don’t care, as this is my first job. My first ever job. Gah, someone is going to pay me to bake all day. How did I get so lucky?

  If this isn’t proving my existence, then I don’t know what is.

  It’s moments like these that I wish I still had my friend.

  I wish I could share it with Carter.

  HOLLYN

  Wine in one hand, my phone in the other, my mind telling me to do one thing, my heart telling me to do another. With my legs propped up on my newly purchased nursing books for the classes I start this summer, my finger hits the button it’s been hovering over, his voice filling my dark, and semi-empty apartment.

  “Hey, Twigs, picking up pizza now. I’ll be home in ten. You better be naked, you promised me a naked pizza party. Love you.”

  Tears.

  I rest my head on the back of the couch.

  “Remember the day I found a German Shepherd in a cornfield and you wanted to keep it? You named him Cob. I kind of wish we did keep him. Cob would have been a fine addition to our little family, even if his farts were deathly.”

  The deep timber of his voice . . .that voice, I miss it so much. It used to lull me to sleep when I wasn’t feeling good, or excite me about something new in my life. In the bedroom, or anywhere for that matter, just a whisper from those beautifully handsome lips would turn me on.

  “Twigs, can you make dinner tonight? I’m going to be late. Grilled cheese and soup sounds amazing. P.S. I’m going to need some serious snuggle time with you. I miss you hard.”

  Eyes to the ceiling. More tears. I try to catch my breath.

  I miss you hard.

  “I miss you hard, too, Eric.” My lip trembles as I scroll down to his very last message, the one message that has broken my heart time and time again.

  “I’m sorry about our fight, Twigs. Please don’t be mad at me. When I get home, I want to talk some more. Until then, know I love you with all my heart.”

  It’s so hard to breathe.

  “I will always love you with all of my heart, Eric,” I say between sobs. “But I have to live.” Thinking about Jace, I continue, “You always said you want me to be happy, no matter what. Well, for a brief moment, Jace made me happy. I was just too scared to fully let him in. I think I’m ready to let that happen now.” I exit out of the app and press down on it. Each app on my phone starts to dance with little “Xs” in the top right corner. “A part of me believes you brought Jace to me, to help me finally get over this last hump. The fact that you did it in baseball form will not go unnoticed.” Taking a deep breath, I glance up at his urn that rests on my mantel. Garnering strength from him, I say, “I’m ready to live again, but please, Eric, please know that you will forever be in my heart. And when my time comes, you better be waiting for me, tossing a football and wearing that sexy smirk of yours.” Choking on a sob, I look at my phone. “I love you so hard, Eric. Always.” And with one last exhale, I press the X on my Voxer app, deleting his voice forever.

  Everything around me fades as my actions sink in. His clothes have been donated, besides three items I couldn’t get rid of, his jersey being one of them. His cherished items around the house, all donated to people on Craigslist looking for a new start. His voice recordings, now a distant memory.

  My heart is broken and battered, but a weight is lifting off my shoulders. It’s time. Time to embrace the new beginning in front of me.

  Wiping my tears, I put my plan into action. The phone rings twice before he picks up.

  “Hollyn, what’s up?”

  Taking a deep breath, I say, “Matt, I need a favor.”

  CARTER

  I’ve been through a lot in my life. My parents were heroin addicts, overdosing and killing themselves from their own stupidity. Having
to move in with my uncle who I thought resented me my entire life. Facing his unconventional way of parenting and emerging from that. All that seems like a cakewalk compared to what I’m about to do next.

  I straighten my leather jacket and stop dicking around. I knock on the door in front of me, hoping and praying she isn’t home.

  I wait a few seconds before Amanda opens the door to me, and yeah, not surprised to see that scowl. “Daisy doesn’t live here anymore and even if she did, I wouldn’t let you in.”

  That welcome I expected. What I wasn’t expecting was Daisy living somewhere else. I can’t help but feel a little proud. She’s doing it. She’s living. Damn, I wish I’d been there to see her when she moved into her first place.

  “That’s fair,” I answer a seething Amanda. “Can we talk?”

  “Why on earth would I want to talk to you? Do you know what you did to that girl? You broke her heart . . . you, you jerk face.”

  And yes, they are definitely related. But even with the insult, the meaning of it all is what burns me. I broke her heart. Breaking my Snowflake’s heart, fuck, it destroys me because she deserves so much better than that, especially by me.

  “Listen, Amanda. I know I’m not your favorite person—”

  “You got that right.”

  Sighing, I continue, “I’m not my favorite person either.”

  “Well.” She leans against the doorframe, her arms crossed over her chest. “At least we have something in common.”

  “I think we have a lot more in common than you think.” Taking a deep breath, I get on with it. “I love her, Amanda. It took me a little bit to actually realize it, because as you put it so eloquently, I’m a jerk face, but I know it now and want to do something about it.” Need. To.

  “What about that other girl with the long legs? Where does she stand?”

  “Far away from me as possible. Nothing happened with her once I met Daisy. She’s done.”

  “How can I believe you?”

  I knew she was going to ask something like that, so I reach into my back pocket and pull out a menu. I hold it out to her and point to the top sandwich. “That’s how.”

  Amanda takes a few minutes to read it and when she’s done, she plays it cool. I know this by the way her lip slightly quivers but everything else stays still.

  “Okay, what do you want from me?”

  Just what I was hoping for. “I need to be re-invited to your wedding.”

  Lips pressed together, she takes a moment to decide, then she nods her head. “I think we can make that happen.”

  JACE

  “Is she in there?” I ask Ethan who just popped out of a corporate suite, freshly showered after the game we just won. Going three for four and hitting a homerun has lifted my spirits and hope for the next phase in this plan. I just hope it goes as well as the game did.

  “She is.” Ethan looks toward the door and rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t know, man. I don’t know if this is going to work.”

  “It has to.” I lean in to Ethan so June and Alex, who are a few feet behind, can’t hear me. “It’s our only chance of making sure June and Alex are protected.”

  “Okay. Good luck.”

  He pats me on the shoulder in a brotherly manner and steps aside, giving me access to the room.

  Stay calm, don’t yell, and whatever she says, speak rationally. Yelling is going to get you nowhere.

  Palms clenched, I pad across the floor. Opening the door to the suite, I’m greeted by a grand view of the stadium, a well-manicured dining space, and a lonesome Rebecca sitting in one of the high-top seats. When she turns to see who walked in, her face falls flat.

  Looking around, she asks, “What are you doing here?”

  This is it, Jace. You can handle this.

  Speaking calmly, I ask, “May I sit down?”

  “Sure . . .” She sounds skeptical.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “I guess so.”

  I prop my folded hands on the table and speak in calming tones. “When you came to my apartment to tell me you were pregnant and that you weren’t going to keep the baby, what was going through your mind?”

  “What do you mean?” She shifts in her chair, leaning back and crossing her arms. She’s already on the defensive.

  “What brought you to the point that you knew I was your only option?”

  She shrugs and looks down at the ground. “I don’t know. I guess I was in a bad place. I wasn’t really sure how I would be able to provide for the baby. I wasn’t really ready to be a mom. I want to go back to school at some point, not just be a bartender for the rest of my life. It just seemed like too much.”

  I nod. “I can understand that. Having a kid is a great responsibility, and if you’re not fully invested in raising that child, you’re only doing it a disservice. People should only be allowed to have children when they’re truly mentally ready, because being mentally healthy for your child is one of the best gifts you can give them besides love.”

  “I agree. That’s why I went to you, because I knew I wasn’t all the way there.”

  “That was very brave of you,” I add. “Can I ask you another question?”

  “Sure.” She sits up a little more now, engaged in our conversation—less defensive.

  “What’s changed since then? Have you started school? Have you found a new place? Were you able to seek therapy to mentally prepare yourself for Hope?”

  “Well . . ., no, but,” she pauses and thinks about it, “I have Ethan now.”

  Gritting my teeth, I rein in the outburst that wants out with the mention of my best friend’s name. “He’s a good guy.”

  “He is.”

  “Ethan has the same job as I do, though. Right now it’s nice because we’re still in Arizona for our spring training games, but our season opener in Colorado is in a few days. If you get Hope back, how are you going to take care of her if you still have to go back to work? Are you ready to take care of an infant all by yourself, while Ethan is away?”

  “We can get a nanny to help,” Rebecca points out.

  Keep calm. Keep the fuck calm.

  “I had the same idea,” I say. “If I was going to keep Hope, I’d hire a full-time nanny who would stay with her while I was away, while I was playing, training, doing media interviews. It would be perfect, right?” I pause, as I really want her to think about what I’m saying. “But, I wouldn’t be raising her. I would be a stranger walking in and out of her nursery at night, which doesn’t feel perfect to me. I grew up without parents, Rebecca, so I know what it’s like to not have anyone around. I didn’t want that for our baby, I still don’t want that for her. Do you? Do you want her to have absent parents?”

  Looking out to the field, her eyes begin to water. One single tear rolls down her cheek and she quickly wipes it away. We used to be friends. It’s hard to see that now. “No, of course I don’t want that, Jace. I wasn’t ready, and even though I still don’t feel ready, I feel so guilty. I carried her for nine months, and was terrified, almost resentful, and for that I felt guilty. Don’t all women want their babies? What was wrong with me that I didn’t want her?” She looks away from me then, and I feel for her struggling with the weight of guilt. Been there. And I don’t know the answer to her question. I never didn’t want Hope, though. Even after only having two and a half months to work through the shock, I just knew I wasn’t her best option. After taking another deep breath, she turns back and says, “When I told you about her, I hoped I would still have a chance to see her, and that when I got my shit together, I could participate in her life. I didn’t think you were going to ship her off to someone else.”

  “I didn’t ship her off, Rebecca. I spent weeks researching, hours upon hours looking through profiles, searching for the right home. The perfect home. I placed her with a loving couple. June and Alex are wonderful women with hearts of gold, and were born to be mothers. They have taken in this tiny baby and given her a home. They’ve spent
sleepless nights rocking her, feeding her, caring for her. They’ve fallen in love with her, and if you follow through with this lawsuit, you are going to crush them. They’ve already had a few failed adoptions, and this is their last shot. They have nothing left in them if Hope is taken away.”

  “But she’s my daughter.”

  “That she is, and as her mother, you should see the value in the gift we’re giving her. We’re giving her the chance to thrive in the most positive and loving environment we could ever give. Know what the best part is?”

  “What?” She wipes away another tear.

  “Alex and June want us in her life.”

  “What?” Rebecca sits up, her hands on the table now.

  “Yes, they dearly want an open-adoption which can include visitation rights.”

  “With me, too?”

  I nod. Rebecca is changing her attitude. Just a little more.

  “With you, too. They understand the sacrifice we’ve both made and even though June and Alex will be Hope’s parents, we can be right there next to them, cheering, and helping in any way possible. They want us all to be a family. A family by heart, rather than blood.”

  “A family by heart,” she whispers. “They’d be willing to do that?”

  “Why don’t you ask them for yourself?” Not wanting to lose momentum, I open the door to the suite and motion for June and Alex to come in with Hope.

  Immediately Rebecca’s hands go to her mouth in shock, her limbs trembling as she stands to greet June and Alex.

  “Hi, Rebecca, my name is June.” She steps close and without notice, wraps Rebecca in one of her classic June hugs. “I want to say thank you so much for the bravery you’ve shown over the last few months. You’ve given us more than we could ever ask for.”

  Hesitant at first, Rebecca hugs June back. “Do you really want me to be involved?”

  June pulls Rebecca away and holds her at arm’s length. “We want you both involved as much as possible. It takes a community to raise a child. Why not have a tight-knit one?”

  The next hour is spent fawning over Hope, talking about the first few months of her life, and her little emerging personality traits. Our little band of June, Alex, Rebecca, Ethan, and me is an eclectic group of individuals with one common interest—giving Hope the best life possible. From the promises on everyone’s faces in this room, I know that’s exactly what’s going to happen.