Pieces of Happily Ever After

by Irene Zutell

“He had total déjà vu,” she said. “He felt like he’d been in the bedroom and living room before. Even the hot tub seemed familiar to him.”

  I sucked in my cheeks and squelched a laugh. So Ronnie the born-again watched porn! I’m sure one day Gabby will tell their child that she once thought she had rescued a princess there.

  Rose and Xander are getting married on New Year’s Eve on some Caribbean island. I hope it works out—not because I’m suddenly altruistic, because I’m not at all. But I do want Gabby to be happy. And for her to be truly happy, she needs her daddy to be happy.

  Gabby. I don’t have to be psychic to know that your love for your child is a heartbreaking kind. I love her so much but I also know one day she will leave me and be out on her own. One day she’ll say good-bye to princesses, then Barbies, then Bratz, then High School Musical, then Hannah Montana. And then, one day, me. As much as I love her, she is not mine forever.

  You hold her hand. She holds yours. One day she holds it only when she’s sure no one’s looking. But she eventually lets go and doesn’t hold it for years and years and years. Then one day she holds it again. But this time it’s because you need her to. She helps you cross the street.

  And one day, if your life is as perfect as it can be, she buries you and continues on without you. She’ll long for your hand in hers. She’ll imagine it in her dreams. And the best you can hope for is that you’ve taught her well. You hope she doesn’t make mistakes, but of course she will. And hopefully, she’ll feel your phantom hand holding onto her and comforting her through it all.

  I see the white lights of a stretch limo.

  “It’s Gabby.” I give one of those yells that I try to disguise as a whisper. I wipe tears from my eyes. “Gabby’s here, Gabby’s here!”

  There’s a flurry of activity. Johnny flicks the Christmas lights on. Someone turns on the snow machine. The fairies pirouette on the roof. Cinderella’s shoe fits. Ariel’s fin wiggles. Snow White and the prince kiss. Sleeping Beauty waltzes around with her prince. It’s more awesome than I imagined and it takes my breath away.

  I want Gabby to have a fairy tale because life is sweet, but there are no happily ever afters. Let my daughter believe in them for as long as she can, because the truth is, Cinderella and her prince get old. Maybe he leaves her. Maybe she suffers from senile dementia, a Waxie hanging out of her ball gown. Maybe he has a heart attack on the toilet. Snow White. Sleeping Beauty. Ruth. Renee. Faye. Nancy. Amy. Alex. Johnny. We can all have our happily ever afters for a few brief moments, which is the best we can do. And it’s still pretty good.

  Gabby races out of the limo. Her eyes are wide. She gasps. The Chihuahua nips at her feet as she runs through the snow, squealing. She sticks her tongue out, trying to lick the flakes. She twirls round and round. Then she bends down and pets the panting dog.

  For a few moments, she is lost in this winter wonderland. I bask in her excitement. Then she stops, searching the lawn for something. I feel my stomach drop. I wonder what she thinks is missing. I thought we’d covered it all, but there’s such a look of longing on Gabby’s face that I feel I’ve somehow screwed up. What could it be?

  Finally, her eyes settle on me and she brightens. She was searching for me! She races toward me and wraps her arms around me. I pick her up and our noses touch.

  “I love it, I love it, I love it.”

  She unclasps her hands and studies me in my mishmash of a costume. She giggles. “Oh, Mommy, who are you supposed to be?”

  I think about this for a moment. I honestly don’t know. I had originally planned to be a princess, but then I added the magic wand, which would be more fairyish. And the crown on my head looks regal, like something a queen would wear. And my red sparkly shoes must belong to Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz.

  Who am I supposed to be? Who am I supposed to be? Who am I supposed to be?

  I run through the answers. A fairy? A princess? A queen? A combination of all three? None of the above? Something I’ve invented? Gabby will question all of it. And she will never be satisfied with my answer.

  So I say, “I’m just a mommy who will do anything for her little girl.”

  Gabby smiles and squeezes me tighter.

  We’re silent as we breathe in the moment, both knowing we’ll remember this forever. Our little piece of happily ever after.