Part Of The List

by Xavier Neal

  “But-”

  “It's my money. I get to choose how and who I spend it on.”

  I softly question, “Is this why you've been working every weekend?”

  “People tip better on the weekends.”

  I let my mouth drop open again.

  Bailey got a job as a server at a fancy restaurant downtown during the summer about the same time Thomas started working behind the desk at some gym chain. At first it put a dent in how often we could spend time together, but he promised me nothing would keep us apart. He still called and texted, tagged along with Emma and me to the movies or bowling. But just him, not his best friend. During the summer Thomas got a girlfriend who didn't care for spending time around his younger sister, which put a small cramp in our group outings. She also spent most of the summer trying to find Bailey a girlfriend out of her friends so they could double date. Emma tried to pretend at the time she didn't care about her older brother leaving her behind, but as the year has gone, it's obvious, she's hates it, and his girlfriend. I kinda hate it too. Definitely hate her. She's a total bitch.

  “You've been barely sleeping for me?”

  Bailey wets his lips. “One day I'll be barely sleeping because of you.”

  The naughty implication slips my bottom lip between my teeth.

  All of a sudden, a bubbly brunette extends her hand our direction. “My name is Doctor Tanner! I'll be helping you today!”

  We both shake her hand and I snicker at the sight of her in a white lab coat with a stethoscope style necklace for her name tag.

  “Follow me, right this way.” With us behind her, she asks, “Is this your first time at Stuffed?”

  “I've been in here before but never stuffed my own.”

  “Exciting!” She gushes with a look over her shoulder. “This is going to be amazing!”

  I glance up at Bailey who doesn't seem bothered by the abundance of enthusiasm falling out of her mouth.

  Doctor Tanner takes us to the end of the store where the adventure begins. She immediately gives us a story about how these stuffed animals are more than just something to snuggle, how they are to be loved like you would children. The explanation is overkill since I'm over the age of eight, but I can see how it would be adorable for kids. Once she's finished, she gives us a brief overview of what we can expect. Together Bailey and I pick out the body, the head, and eventually a heart. He picks a heart that lights up and gives it the sweet ‘kiss of life’ as instructed before placing it inside. We use the machine to stuff it together, our wacky design getting giggles from the children watching. The fuzzy blue and white stuffed animal has a teddy bear head and body with bright blue eyes like Bailey but glasses like me. He has a tiger tail that is striped in matching colors and dark blue cat ears. Like real parents, we go through the process of filling out a birth certificate, picking out the outfit it will come home in, and the blanket for keeping it warm. Afterwards, because Bailey bought an expensive package, we also create a baby book, are given a cardboard crib, and are allowed to have the animal embroidered with two initials. Before I can give my input, he insists on BK to include both of us.

  By the time we're completely done and back to his vehicle, I'm cuddling the creature much like I imagine real mothers do their babies.

  Bailey starts his truck as he asks, “Was this a good gift?”

  “Yes!” I turn to him, still beaming. “This was the best gift ever!”

  The heater kicks on and he turns to me. “Good. Promise you'll take care of our stuffed baby until we have a real one?”

  I giggle and roll my eyes. “Of course.”

  To my surprise he shifts his body to completely face me. “I mean it, Kenny. Someday, I want this for us. I want that to be our real baby. I wanna build him or her a real crib. I wanna be the one to drive us home from the hospital. I want...us someday.”

  The change from playful to serious causes my breath to hitch.

  “Someday Kenny....Doesn't have to be today. Or tomorrow. Or a year from now...Just someday, okay?”

  I nod slowly wanting the same thing yet unable to speak it the way he can.

  Relief seems to flood his face. “You ready for your Christmas present?”

  Taken off guard, I glance down to the bear in my arms. “I thought this was it. I thought because of how expensive it is, it was just like a twofer?”

  He shakes his head. “Nah. You're my girl. I wouldn't screw you out of a gift.”

  Intrigued, I put the stuffed animal in its crib in the back seat and turn to completely face him. “Alright. Ready.”

  “Remember...Emma helped me decide on this.”

  “Is that like I should blame her if this is a terrible gift?”

  He lightly laughs. “Exactly.”

  “Doubt it's going to be terrible, Bailey. Anything from you is amazing.”

  His tongue grazes his lips and he sighs, “I sure the hell hope so.”

  I tilt my head in intrigue.

  Without further warning, his lips softly press against mine. I'm startled from the unexpected invasion yet his hand falls onto my cheek like a soft reassurance. Our tongues gently brush and instantly the rest of the world fades from existence. As we repeat the action, the speed and intensity increases, destroying any drifting doubts that this is just another pathetic day dream I'm going to be woken up from to finish a math quiz. His grip falls to the nape of my neck and anchors us together in this moment. Each and every twirl is filled with so much love, so much devotion, there's no way in hell this will be just a one-time thing.

  Yet in a way it was. We wouldn't kiss again for years. It ended up being more of a kiss to end things than one to begin them.

  “Mommy...” Em's voice sings in the hospital room. “Mommy!” Her tiny frame squeezes around the door and comes barreling towards me.

  “Hi angel,” I greet, pulling her into my lap. “How was breakfast?”

  “Grandpa let me have a chocolate chip waffle!”

  I give my father a scolding glance. “Dad.”

  “She's four,” he brushes it off. “She's fine.”

  “They were yummy!” She insists curling into me with the bear I was just reminding Bailey about. When we gave it to her we never expected it to become the one she couldn't part ways with. We never told her where or how special it was to the two of us, but some way, somehow, it's like she knew. She knew her favorite stuffed animal was once the place holder for her parents. A little stuffed creature of hope. They say kids can pick up on things like that and if I hadn't had it happen with my own child, I probably would still be in doubt. “We had breakfast with abuela and abuelo!”

  “You did?” The news catches me off guard and I look at my dad. “Really?”

  “Yeah. They um….They asked if they could take Em off our hands for a while. Give us a chance to rest. We told them they could meet us for breakfast and talk about it here at the hospital. After we heard about his condition. I think Becca wants to help with Em to keep her from feeling so useless with her son like this….”

  “Is daddy still sleeping?” Em interrupts.

  My eyes give her sweet face a long stare. Every day she grows to look more like him than me. She has my dimple and curls, though hers are easier to tame, but his bright blue eyes, his smile, his laugh and sense of stubbornness. I tug her closer to me. “He is. His body is still trying to fight to get better. But we should talk to him and make sure he knows how much we love him. How much we need him to wake up.”

  Em nods enthusiastically and calls out, “Wake up Daddy! Wake up! You have to see my new light up shoes abuela brought me! She bought them for me to not be sad while you sleep…” When there's no response, her determination grows just as his would, and she places the stuffed animal beside him. “Want Mr. Beary and me to sing you a song?! You’ll feel better after hearing a song!”

  I hide the tears clogging my throat with a small cough. “Go ahead, Em. Sing Daddy a song. You know how much he loves to hear you sing...”

  “
Which one Mr. Beary? His favorite? Yeah!” She asks the bear and I turn to give my father another look.

  He lifts his eyebrows, the nonverbal question loud as if he were holding a blow horn. Reluctantly, I shake my head hating to admit we still have no idea if he'll ever come out of this. The sound of Emma singing one of his favorite country songs feels like an unnecessary solemn soundtrack that I don't have the heart to change. Maybe her singing will do what my voice couldn't. Maybe he'll fight harder for her. Maybe the sound of his daughter, our daughter, will force something in him to snap and take his life back. I know it's farfetched hope, but honestly? That's all we've ever had and it's always been enough.

  Bailey

  I roll my head to face Emma who is sitting beside me. “Do you hear that?”

  She stops smacking on her gum and tilts her head towards the ceiling.

  “That’s music,” I declare softly, trying to decipher exactly what I’m hearing. It only takes a few more seconds before I can recognize the lines being crooned at a barely audible level. “This is one of my favorite songs.”

  Emma tries not to smile. “The entire world knows that.”

  I pull my legs up to a bend and rest my folded arms across them. “That’s because this was the song playing the first time I kissed Kenny.”

  “You played the fuck out of this CD long before you got your lips on her.”

  “And long after.” I wiggle my eyebrows.

  She gags and returns to smacking on her gum.

  “This song has always reminded me of Kenny. The fact it was playing during our first kiss was….was like a sign from heaven that we were meant to be together, you know?” The music continues and my smile expands. “Em likes it too. It’s cute to hear her sing it almost completely on key.”

  Hearing about my daughter softens Emma. “She got that from me. Neither of you can sing worth shit.”

  I coo a couple lines from the chorus of ‘She’s My Kind of Rain’ by Tim McGraw before arguing, “I can sing.”

  “You can’t.”

  “I can.”

  “Subconscious here. I’m tellin’ ya…Ya can’t.”

  “Kenny loves my voice.”

  “Of course she does. She loves everything about you. You’re her whole damn world along with your adorable little girl.”

  The reminder causes me to let out a deep sigh. “I gotta get the hell out of here, Emma. Why won’t any of these doors fucking open? Why are they sealed shut? When we started walking this damn hall, they opened no problem, but now they all refuse to budge. What am I doing wrong?”

  Her lips press tightly together.

  Instantly, I snap, “What? What are you not telling me?”

  She remains silent.

  “Emma.”

  “Your kidneys are about to start failing.”

  Panic forces me onto my feet. “What the hell? Why? What am I doing wrong? How do I stop it? How do we-“

  “You keep moving-“

  “I have been moving!” I snap. “It’s not my fault I can’t get those damn things open!”

  She rolls her eyes. “Sure. Yell at me like it’s my fault.”

  “You’re supposed to be leading me out of here!”

  “I told you…You have to keep moving. You take a break, your body breaks. You stop looking for an exit, you start trapping yourself in here.”

  “But-”

  “No buts, Bailey. We’re in your mind. You fight the pain. You set the pace. You are the only hope for getting the hell out of here.” She briefly pauses, crosses her legs, and states, “You’re tired of walking? Fine.” With a snap of her finger the entire room goes dark except the two of us. “Sit back down.”

  Cautiously, I slide down beside her.

  “We can do it this way.”

  “What way?”

  She snaps her fingers again revealing a movie screen with my initials presented like some sort of logo. “What happened after your first kiss?”

  I hesitate to answer. “I um…I drove her home. If we would’ve waited any longer, she would’ve been late for her party. You should remember that part. You were there.”

  “I wasn’t there.”

  The urge to groan returns. “Fine. The real Emma was there.”

  She nods her approval of the sentence. “And then what happened?”

  Dryness spreads rapidly in my mouth, preventing any sort of answer.

  Eagerly she waits for me to continue and when I don’t she points to the screen where footage starts to roll without my consent.

  I park my truck in the driveway and try not to grimace over the fact my dad is home while my mother is not. Just a few more months and all this is over. I can move out. Get the hell away from him. Make Kenny mine and finally be free from the pain he gets pleasure from causing. The thought of our kiss pops back into my mind and my thumb strokes the corner of my lip where her lip gloss feels like it’s lingering.

  Thankful I have just enough time to change and head out for work, I make my way into the house, surprised when the living room is vacant. That’s his favorite spot with a beer when he’s home. The fact he’s not there is a bad sign. Maybe he just went to take a piss?

  I rush up the stairs, swing a right, dart down the hall for my bedroom. Once inside I only manage to shed my shoes before my vibrating phone commands my attention.

  Pulling it out of my pocket, I’m excited to see a message from Kenny.

  5553463204: Best. Day. Ever.

  Hell yeah it was. I’ve waited a damn lifetime to kiss her. Four years. Four fuckin’ years. I’ve made out with her almost every night in my dreams since we first met and it pales in comparison to the real thing. To actually have her mouth on mine. Her lips are insanely soft yet a bit sticky from the gloss. The way her tongue effortlessly falls to the demands of mine makes me hard just thinking about it. I was tempted to call into work today, so we could spend the entire night exploring so much more, but I knew that would be harder to explain than I care for. Hell, spending the few hours together we had was hard enough to hide.

  “See you’re back,” my dad’s voice says, shifting my eyes away from the message. As he approaches, my finger doesn’t hesitate to hit the delete key, erasing any physical proof today actually happened. “How was the mall with your girlfriend?”

  I toss the phone on the bed and shed my jacket. “Busy.”

  His eyebrows dart down. “I bet. Just a few days ‘til Christmas.”

  “Yeah…”

  He gives me a cold, hard stare before glancing to my phone on the bed. I wouldn’t be surprised if he picks it up to check it. It wouldn’t be the first time. Ever since I’ve had it, he’s searched for evidence of anything he doesn’t approve of or anyone. It’s the reason I don’t have her number saved. It’s also the reason I’ve had to come up with more excuses to the sprains and bruises than just tackle football with imaginary friends from other schools.

  “You’re sure you were at the mall?”

  “Positive.”

  “With your girlfriend?”

  Future girlfriend, but I’m not dumb enough to add that. I would’ve asked her out today if I thought I could get away with it for these next six months or so. But I can’t. I’m stupidly hopeful sometimes, but not usually that dumb.

  “Because funny thing,” he steps further into my room, “some blonde bimbo came by here, claiming she was your girlfriend, and dropped you off a Christmas present.”

  The new information and his approaching frame constrict my chest tightly. I told her not to come over. I told her I wasn’t home. Why couldn’t she just believe me?

  “Had pictures of the two of you together to verify she really is your girlfriend. So…if you weren’t out with her than who?” My mouth bobs prepared to lie when his hand clamps around my throat. “You were with that nigger again, weren’t you?” The squeezing increases. “How many times have I told you to stay the fuck away from her?” His fingers dig tighter. My ability to breath crosses into nonexistent. I pound on his arm
profusely, which only angers him more. “When the fuck will you learn? Her kind is pathetic.” He tosses me backward and I fumble onto my bed. Desperately, I gasp for air as he continues to rant, “They’re nothing more than oversized leeches! What’d she suck out of you? A gold chain? Something for her to wear on a pole?” His fist flies my direction seconds after I’ve managed to sit up. The blow is to my chest, the feeling of it caving in, too real to ignore. While his mouth spews hatred, his fists echo his rage, his intolerance, and his disappointment until I’m barely able to move.