by Annie Stone
“Cool, man! I’m getting out Friday. Actually, can you watch Hazel then?”
Carey taps around on his phone. “Sure thing. What are you two up to?”
“Sex,” Hunter says.
I hit his arm, making exasperated noises.
“Finally!” Carey says. “She’s such a bitch when she’s not getting regular orgasms.”
“Has she been a bitch for the past three years?” Hunter asks, sounding curious.
“No, she’s got toys.”
“Excuse me!”
“You do. One of your vibrators is so loud you can hear it through two closed doors.”
Heat rises to my cheeks. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
“Why would I? You never complained when one of my girls was loud.”
“Ugh. I don’t remember that ever happening.”
Carey laughs. “You’re just jealous my bed’s seen more action than yours.”
“Do you always talk to each other like this?” Hunter pipes up.
“Yes,” we say simultaneously. We laugh, and I throw one of Hazel’s pens at Carey.
“Haze, too!” Hazel grabs a marker and cocks her arm back.
Carey laughs his head off as I try to explain to Hazel that Mommy made a mistake, and you’re not actually supposed to throw pens.
She gives me a critical look. “Mommy mistate.”
“Yes, Hazel baby. Mommies make mistakes, too.”
Hazel grabs the pen and launches it across the room farther than I would have thought her capable of. “Haze mistate.”
Hunter’s entire body quakes as he laughs, and Carey nearly falls off the bench. Hazel looks smug. And me? I wipe tears of laughter off my cheeks. Seriously. This child is such a comedian!
“Too bad, Mommy,” Carey says a few minutes later.
“Fut!”
The boys start up again.
“How do you know that word?” I ask, shocked.
“Ree. Daddy.”
I smile at her. “That’s what I thought.”
“You little traitor,” Carey calls and jumps up. Hazel runs away squealing, and Carey pretends he can’t catch her.
“She’s one of a kind,” Hunter says quietly. “You’ve done a great job, Mackenzie Hall.”
“Thanks,” I say a little shyly. “I love you.”
He wraps his arms around me tighter. “I love you, too.” He presses his lips against my head. “Thank you for our wonderful daughter.”
I nod and lean in so tightly not even a leaf would fit between us.
“Let’s fly to Vegas this Friday.”
Did he say what I thought he said? “What?”
“Let’s fly to Vegas.”
I turn around and stare at him speechlessly. Finally, I manage, “Why?”
“So I can make you Mackenzie Tilman.”
I gasp. “Really?”
“Really.”
A tear rolls down my face. “God, Hunter.”
“Say yes, baby.”
I change positions so I can throw my arms around him. “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!”
He pulls me in close. “You make me so happy, Mac.”
15
Hunter
When they come to see me again a few days later, Mac, Carey, and Hazel are wearing angel wings. The other patients at the clinic smile when they see the littlest miracle. She’s such a sweetheart. Admittedly, I may be a little biased. To me, she’s the greatest girl in the world. Very closely followed by her mom.
When she sees where I am, Hazel comes running to throw herself into my arms. She’s not the least bit scared of me. It would kill me if she was, too. My perfect little girl.
“Are you an angel?” I ask her.
She nods. “Daddy angel, too.”
“I don’t have wings.”
She looks confused before Carey says, “I brought you some, man.”
Hazel cheers as Carey hands them to me. Good thing I’m enough of a man I don’t mind wearing angel wings.
I set Hazel on a chair and put on my wings. She claps her hands excitedly. “Daddy angel!”
Mac smiles. “What?” I ask before I kiss her on the lips.
She shrugs. “I love that you can’t turn your daughter down.”
I smile. “You can’t either.”
Carey messes with Hazel, pulling her wings and annoying her. She snorts angrily. Fuck, she’s so cute!
“I know, but I already knew I was crazy.”
“True,” I agree, pretending I’m not the least bit crazy myself.
She laughs. “The wings look good on you, babe.”
Every time she says that word my heart tries to scatter in a million pieces. I’ll always deny that, of course. “Not as good as they look on you.” I lower my voice an octave because I know it drives her crazy. Am I an ass? I can’t help it that my balls nearly burst every time I know she’s horny.
As if on command, her breath stops. It’s that simple. My baby is so easy to have. Only for me, obviously.
“Hunt…”
She sits down next to me and grabs my hand. I love that she wants so much physical contact, that she can’t keep her hands off me.
“Daddy?” Hazel interrupts.
“Yes, babe?”
“Haze won.”
“What did you win?” I ask, though it doesn’t matter. I’m proud of her, no matter if she’s winning or losing. I’ll always be her biggest fan.
“Football.”
“Football? The super bowl?” I tease.
She nods. “Super.”
Carey grins. “Almost, Hazeline.”
“I’m so proud of you,” I say, stroking her head. She turns away a little, obviously happy about the praise, but at the same time a little shy. She is so cute.
“Daddy proud?” she asks, her bottom lip trembling a little.
“Hey, baby, I’ll always be proud of you. I love you so much.”
“Love daddy, too,” she says, hugging my leg. My prosthetic.
It’s such a relief. I wouldn’t be able to live with it if she found it revolting. But it’s no big deal to her. Dad just has some metal there. She holds it just like my other leg, like she can’t tell the difference.
“We have a new generation of football players,” I observe.
“She runs after the ball very enthusiastically at least,” Carey says.
Hazel looks up. “Won,” she corrects him.
Carey holds out a first to her, but she doesn’t know what to do with it. “Make a fist,” I say. When she does, I hold her wrist and push her tiny fist against Carey’s. “Like this. Got it?”
She nods, making a concentrated face, and looks at me. I hold out my fist for her, and she grins, pressing hers against mine. Then against Carey’s. Then mine. Then Carey’s. Mine. Carey’s…
“You brought that upon yourself,” Mac laughs.
But I don’t care. Her uncle is obviously just as crazy as her dad, so she can keep doing it for as long as she likes. But it turns out her attention span isn’t that great, and she finally starts running around the table.
“Does she ever take a break?” I ask, amused.
“No,” Carey and Mac say simultaneously.
Seeing Carey and my two girls is the highlight of my days. I don’t know the last time I was this happy. I’m finding it hard to understand how I could have been so low I actually tried to kill myself.
I will never do anything so stupid again. Both of them—all three of them, actually—are the main reason, but it’s also the fact that I can walk again. That I can do everything on my own again, that I don’t have to rely on other people’s help, that I can take care of myself. And others. I can run after Hazel, pick her up when she falls, play with her and run around with her.
Why did I think life was over for me? I was so stupid. So ridiculously stupid.
What if I’d managed to kill myself and never saw the miracle that is my daughter? That would have been a real tragedy.
And the idea of
having more kids with Mac makes me feel ecstatic. I will always regret not being there when she was pregnant with Hazel, but maybe I’ll have another chance…
Hazel runs around the entire visitors’ room, stopping at the people she knows, giving a wide berth to people she doesn’t know. I keep a constant eye on her, and I think Carey does, too. I owe my brother so much!
And then the door opens.
My heart stops when I see it hit her head. She falls backward onto the floor. I know, I know—Mac said she tries to wait and doesn’t rush to help her, but I…I can’t.
I sprint over to her.
Mac is standing, too. So I wasn’t just imagining that this was too much pain for a two-year-old. Carey’s only a foot behind me when I throw myself on the floor behind Hazel. She’s crying. Oh my God, is she crying! My heart hurts so much. My little angel is hurt.
Mac kneels beside us, and Hazel stretches her arms out for her. Mac picks her up, whispering sweet things in her ear. Fuck! I can’t stand it when she’s in pain.
“I’m so sorry,” says a man I don’t know. He opened the door! I want to kill him!
I jump up, but Carey holds me back. I give him a dark look. My mouth may be foaming.
“Hunt, he didn’t do it on purpose!”
“He better not have!” I snarl, fixing my gaze on the asshole.
The man raises both hands. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt her.”
It takes a lot of strength to calm myself. Like, a whole lot. Whoever hurts my baby has to deal with me.
Mac kisses Hazel again before she sets her in my arms. Hazel wraps her little arms around me, and my anger disappears. She’s still crying, but obviously, she’s okay. Luckily for that shithead!
“My poor little girl,” I mumble, carrying her back to our table. I sit down with her, and she sits up. Her forehead is still red, and I blow on it gently.
“Tiss!” she says, her eyes wet with tears. I gently kiss the spot, and slowly, her tears dry up. Mac sits next to us, looking at us closely, a mama bear ready to defend her cub if necessary. But I would never do anything to hurt Hazel. Never.
“Man.” Carey whistles. “You were faster than me.”
And that’s when it hits me. I was faster than Carey. My prosthetic didn’t get in the way when I needed it. Fuck. It feels amazing to know I can actually be a real dad for Hazel. One who can protect her always. One who can catch her when she falls. One who can do the coolest shit with her. Fuck, yeah!
Mac puts her hand on my arm. “Thanks.”
I interlace our fingers. “Any time.”
When they leave, Mac hands me a laptop and tells me to read and look at her files and emails in chronological order. I’ve been sitting here for twenty minutes now, being such a pussy. All I can do is wonder if I can get through this. The two of them have my heart in their hands.
And then I take a deep breath and click on the first email. Already, I can feel a lump in my throat.
Hunter,
How could you leave? How could you go to Afghanistan? Do you hate me so much your only choice was to move to the other side of the globe? The other, ridiculously dangerous side? I love you. I love you so much. I’m so sorry! I choose you. Always you. Nobody else.
Oh God! Why did you leave? How can I live without you? How can I survive without you? How can I live knowing that I might have just driven you to your death?
Mac
My poor girl. I can feel the despair in every one of her words. My heart hurts, and my eyes fill with tears. The early emails are sad, very sad, even if they are at times loving, angry, and desperate. It’s like I can physically feel how much she suffered. What did I do to her?
I know what she did to me, but what did I do to her? She didn’t deserve this, no matter how much I hated her in that moment. She didn’t deserve that.
Hunter,
I miss you. I miss you so much. Every night I lie awake thinking of you, cursing my decision that day. I’m sorry. So sorry. I can’t even put into words how much I regret not taking your hand. Forgive me. Forgive me for being so incredibly stupid and hurting you so much.
I love you. I have never loved anybody like I love you.
Forgive me…
Mac
In between her desperate letters, I read emails from Carey, who also wrote to me.
Bro,
Come home. Mac needs you. I need you. How could you do this to her? She cries herself to sleep every night. She doesn’t eat. She’s far from being the happy woman we knew. She chose you. How can you doubt that? She’s yours. She’ll always choose you.
C.
Hearing it again from Carey really gets me down. In my own pain, I didn’t realize I was causing her pain, too. And so much of it! A small voice reminds me that back then I was under the impression she was happy… I never wanted her to be unhappy. Never!
And still, I need to accept that I was the source of her pain. How could I do that to her? How could I believe she was happy while I was so unhappy?
I should have known she was suffering like I was, no matter what kind of feelings she had for me. She’d shown me repeatedly that she cared for me. Maybe not as a lover, but definitely as a friend. So why did I think she was happy?
I pull at my hair. I can’t stand the fact that I was so stupid. And all the stuff I missed! God, it’s so much…
I struggle through her emails, and Carey’s, and feel my heart break into a thousand pieces. What have we been doing to each other all these years? It’s enough heartache to turn ten people into emotional wrecks.
At some point, the tone of her emails change.
Dear Hunter,
I’m heartbroken that you refuse to read my emails. At least, I tell myself you’re not reading them, because I don’t want to imagine my Hunter reading them and knowing how I’m suffering and not saving me from this pain.
I did a pregnancy test yesterday. It was positive.
And before you ask, it’s yours. Does that make you happy? It makes me incredibly happy. But I wish you were here. I wish we could go through this together. I still hope you’ll find your way back to me someday. I love you. Now more than ever before, because you have given me the most beautiful gift you can give a woman.
Thank you. I promise I will watch your little peanut well. But please come back to me. Come back to us.
Love, Mac
After that, Mac’s online diary starts. The first picture is of a positive pregnancy test. The second one shows her flat belly. Then she copied a short paragraph explaining how big the baby was at that point. The little peanut…
Good thing I’m alone. Tears stream down my face. I would have felt pretty uncomfortable if I’d read these on base, and the guys had seen me like this. But I don’t even try to stop them now. Because I know there will be so many more.
Her words rip my heart out, throw it on the ground, jump around on it, rip it into shreds, and then put every little piece back together again. Because she does that with this treasure, too.
I cry for what we will never be able to change but relish all the great things she captured for me: Hazel in Mac’s arms just after she was born. Hazel one week later in Carey’s huge hands. Hazel taking her first bath. Hazel with shampoo horns. Hazel taking her first steps, mashing her food, running after Carey, and then Carey running after Hazel. Hazel chewing on one end of a video game controller. Hazel at the beach, Hazel in the water, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel.
Only now do I realize what an incredible gift Mac has given me. It really is like I haven’t missed a single moment of my daughter’s life. Because her mother captured it all.
If I didn’t already know how much she loves me, I would know now. She was always hoping… Just like I was always hoping, all these years. I gave up at some point, but Mac didn’t. The last entry, a video, is from yesterday. Hazel, mushy peas smeared around her mouth, is having a discussion with Carey. I love her squeaky voice, her laugh. God, I love everything about her.
How can I make up
for this? I have no idea. I can only keep showing her, for the rest of my life, how much I love her. How happy she makes me.
I go back through and reread things again and again. Luckily, there are messages from Carey to make me laugh through my tears.
Hunter,
Your daughter… She is perfect. Gorgeous. I love her so much. If you pull your head out of your ass one day and meet her, you’re going to love her just as much as I do. Just to piss you off, I’m going to make sure she’s crazy about uncle C, and you’ll never be her favorite. In your face, bro!
C
Fuck, what would I do without my little brother?
Mac, Hazel, and Carey are my family. They have shown me what family really means. Sure, I still think about my mom sometimes, but she’s made her choice. And Dad?
I always looked up to him, always respected him, thought he was a good dad. Until he suddenly wasn’t. I wonder how he managed the transition from best to worst dad in the world. Was it me? Is it my fault?
Now, all I feel for him is revulsion. What he did to Mac, the way he talked about Hazel, what he did to me… I hope I’ll never be like that. I hope I don’t give Hazel the impression that I’ll only love her as long as she does what I want.
I make an oath to myself in that moment that I will always support her. No matter what. She gets to live her own life. She gets to be the captain of her story. Only her. I couldn’t stand it if she thought, even for a day, that she’s not good enough for me, that I don’t love her, that I’m not proud of her.
Hunter,
It is so hard… Every day I see Hazel in front of me. And she gets so much from you. She’s the spitting image of you. Carey showed me pictures of your mom as a child, and she’s Hazel. No doubt about it.
It’s hard to look at her and know you’re not here.
That you’re not here to go swimming with her in the baby pool.
Not here to hold her hand as she takes her first steps.
Not here to chase away the ghosts that scare her in her dreams.
Not here to hold her when she’s sad, laugh with her when she’s happy, and suffer with her when she’s in pain.