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“Either way, it will be loved and strive to make you have gray hairs.”
“Ugh, why do I put up with you?”
I snorted. “Because you love me.”
“You two cut it out,” my mom said, stepping outside with a fruit tray in hand.
“Mama, I had one of those already.”
“I know, dear, I got this from the fridge in the garage. Don’t fret.”
A powerful pair of arms came around me, and it was my turn to settle back against his broad chest. James’ aftershave had me closing my eyes and breathing him in. The man not only looked good enough to eat, he always smelled oh-so-good. For the last month, after talking to his parents and my mom, getting all of our worries and hopes out…things started to change. He moved in with us last weekend, for now staying in my small spare room. He wanted to be around more for Lola and me.
I hoped this path stayed clear. I wanted to finally be happy in my life. Not just happy, but full. With him here, helping, getting to know her every mood…it was nice. I really couldn’t ask for more. I just wanted it to never end.
I wanted him here as much as he wanted it.
Together, we could conquer anything that came at us.
Seven Months Later
Watching my toddler’s face turn to the color of a raspberry, while she screamed at an octave I was sure only dogs could hear, was not how I had hoped the night would go.
Over and over, I’d tried to reassure her that it was okay to have big feelings. It was okay to be upset that her daddy wasn’t here. Watching her break down was hard. I was on the verge of tears myself.
We’d been through tantrums before. Meltdowns of epic proportions over some of the silliest things—I’d always been able to calm her down with cuddles, a story. A bedtime song. I mean, what two-and-a-half year old didn’t have a tantrum every so often? They’re expected, but this—my heart was breaking for my kid, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.
Her daddy, James, had been a constant fixture in our house since he and I had reconnected this past summer. It was an accident—a once in a chance meeting—and lord knew, I never saw it coming, but it happened nonetheless. It changed all of our lives for the better. And now, we were lost without him.
It’d been just shy of a year now since that second chance meeting. Growing pains, happiness, the joy of watching our daughter blossom. We’d both grown as a couple, making sure each other had what they needed. Getting the most out of being together—for real this time. So again, to say we were used to having him here with us was an understatement.
It was hard for me to sleep without him beside me, and for Lola, well, her daddy was always here to comfort and console her when I couldn’t; it’s been nice. Whether it’s a sleepless night or to kiss away the pain of a boo-boo, he was willing to step in and do whatever he needed to help.
I still wanted to pinch myself some days. If you’d have told me last June that I’d be reunited with my one-night stand…I’d have told you buzz off. Never in a million years would I have believed this would happen. But it had. Not only that, he’d taken the role of dad easily. It was like he’d always been here. He was the best father.
He had slept in the spare room of my tiny house for only a week before I’d found myself wanting him closer. The first night we’d shared a bed brought that drunken night back to the forefront. I remembered every touch, kiss, and intimate moment. It was that night that I knew—there was no turning back. I craved more than his touch though. I wanted all of him.
We’d promised each other that night that we would be a family. For Lola. For ourselves. We developed a routine. Mornings, after work, bedtime. Every minute of our day was planned out, and you know, it was perfect. Until now. I hadn’t thought about Lola’s reaction to not seeing her daddy tonight. He’d been here this morning to have breakfast and then to kiss her goodbye as we’d gotten in the car. I’d taken her to my mom’s and gone to work like normal.
Coming home had been fine. She’d asked for Dada but accepted my saying, “Dada is at work.” Every time she’d asked, I’d tell her the same. Dinner time, she’d accepted it. Bath time, she’d accepted it. But now, when I needed her to also accept it…no dice. Bedtime showed up, and her calm, sweetness went right out the window.
A raging toddler—this was hardcore, and I wanted nothing more than a shot of tequila to numb the utter heartache happening at this moment. Nothing I did was helping. I’d tried walking her around the house. I’d turned on the TV. It did nothing as she refused to even look at it. I’d tried to sing her to sleep. Warm milk while I rocked her—yeah, that was a no go too.
The only thing I could think of to do now was put her in the car and go for a long ride. If there was one thing that would put her to sleep, it was a ride in her car seat. I could only hope, pray, and promise to give up something precious—other than my child—for anything to make her go to sleep.
I threw on a sweater and scooped her up. I made sure to grab my cell, wallet, her diaper bag—just in case—and my keys. Getting her in the car seat was a battle. She wasn’t cooperating, squirming and pushing my hands away. My frustration level was at the peak of the mountain; I was ready to blow. It wasn’t her fault, so I just asked—begged her—to sit still and let me get her in the stupid seat.
After she was buckled in, I too got in and put on my belt. I was possibly fighting tears—I shall neither confirm or deny it.
I hooked up my cell phone to the stereo, turned up the volume a little, and prayed. Maybe her Disney playlist along with the car ride would help her to relax, and hopefully go to sleep. I pulled out of the driveway and crossed my fingers. It was only seven-thirty, but it was already darker than hell out. I drove around town, maneuvering through the busy streets of downtown Charleston. Looping around and around. I’d drive ‘til the wheels fell off if I had to.
Lola started to settle down. It took a while though. When her cries and sniffles finally stopped, I felt like crying again. It had worked and to say I was happy—I was ecstatic that it had worked like I’d hoped it would.
Glancing at the clock in the car, I let out a long sigh. It was a little after nine now. I was well and truly past the starving point. Even my normal routine was off tonight. We, meaning James and I, usually ate after she was down for the night. With all that had happened—I’d earned something a little greasy tonight.
Finding my favorite place, I pulled in. Zaxby’s line wasn’t too long tonight, for which I was grateful. I got to the ordering spot and gave the lady on the other end of the speaker my order. A five-piece tender meal and two ranch dipping sauces to accompany the Zax sauce, an order of cheddar bites, and an order of fried pickles. And of course, a sweet tea.
Would I eat all of this tonight, I wasn’t sure. Probably. Maybe. I didn’t know to be honest. I was in stress-eating mode. Anything was possible. I wasn’t sure how to handle the sudden onset of these helpless, needy emotions that had me second-guessing everything. I shouldn’t be feeling inadequate, or helpless. For all that’s holy, I’d managed to take care of Lola all by myself for so long, and now, faced with her reactions when her daddy wasn’t here, I wasn’t quite sure how to manage anything.
