A/N: If you follow me on tumblr, you might have seen that I planned on taking a break from writing. I was going to go the rest of this week and some of next week without writing anything but I decided that it wouldn't be fair to those of you that have been patient, lenient and nice to me when it comes to some mistakes I've made with this story. It's because of you guys that I decided I won't take as long a break as I originally wanted to. I'm just sick of reading negative things when it comes to this story. At first it made me sad, now it's starting to get on my nerves. But I'm pushing through it and I'm not going to take a break like I wanted to. I hope you guys like this story from here on out. I'll be more cautious with what I decide to put in it.
Also, there's some sensitive content in this chapter, I guess. I don't really know what you guys consider sensitive anymore so here's just a fair warning about the drama that surrounds Alex in this chapter.
The sound of the wood creaking as I rock back and forth on the swing hanging from my ceiling is just a little obnoxious and annoying but by the looks of it, Lyla seems to find it soothing. She was up all night coughing and crying about her aching ear and she didn't fall asleep until somewhere around 1:00 in the morning, which means I didn't get to sleep until around 1:30. I like to make sure she's deeply asleep before I go to bed myself and I was sure she was deep enough asleep at 1:30. I had every intention on going into work at 8:30 this morning like I was scheduled but with Lyla's infection taking a turn for the worst, I called off at 6:00 this morning. She's running a pretty nasty fever and her ear was draining pus and liquid this morning. I gave her a double dose of antibiotic and some Tylenol to take the pain away and she's been under the weather all day. She doesn't even want to play in her room or outside in the backyard. All she wants to do is lie down and be held. I'm starting to regret taking her out to eat last night. The doctor part of me knows that me taking her out to eat has nothing to do with the fact that her ear got worse. The doctor part of me knows that her ear would've been nasty regardless if I had her in the house or out and about yesterday. But the father part of me can't help but worry that maybe if I had kept her in the house and fed her something like soup and grilled cheese instead of crab legs, her ear wouldn't be this bad. It's like I take five steps forward with this single dad thing, and then ten steps back. Every time I feel like I'm doing something right, I turn around and do something wrong.
Careful not to disturb her, I swiftly turn the page of the newspaper I'm reading and continue the cover page story. She's sitting on the swing next to me but her head is resting on my stomach and she's holding my iPad in front of her face. I found a couple episodes of The Bubble Guppies on YouTube and she's been quietly sitting here and watching them for the last hour. Her favorite TV show is something called Sofia The First but I couldn't find any good quality episodes of that on YouTube so she settled for The Bubble Guppies. I know I took the day off of work just to make sure she's feeling better but I think taking a day off to spend time with her is something I'm going to start doing in the future. I'll make it a point to take at least one day off a month to sit at home and relax with her because she seems to like it. On my regular off days, those will be the days we go to the beach or to the grocery store or swimming at the YMCA. I'll take one additional day off of work for relaxation day at home. This morning, the both of us woke up around 10:00 and I fixed her scrambled eggs and toast for breakfast. We ate and then we went into the living room and I watched some movie about this Disney princess freezing everything with her—the same movie the snowman on her Band-Aid came from. After the movie, I took her upstairs and gave her a hot bath and popped some popcorn and we watched another movie, this one was about a dolphin without a tail and how these scientists built him a tail and he lived happily ever after with his prosthetic tail. I wouldn't readily admit this to anyone, but I liked that movie. It was kind of cute.
After the second movie, I heated up her crab legs from last night's dinner and fed her that for lunch. I offered to take her out in the backyard so she could play in the jungle gym we have out there but she said no. She said she just wanted me to pick her up and so I did. I washed dishes with her on my hip, threw a load of my laundry in the washer and now we're out here. This is my usual 1:30 regime. Lyla's usually taking a nap around this time so I'm sitting outside reading the newspaper on the porch. Well, she's not asleep so I just brought her outside with me and I turned on The Bubble Guppies and she's perfectly content. Every now and again, I'll look down at her to see if she's still awake and when I find that she is, I'll rub her hair to let her know that I haven't forgotten about her and then we'll leave each other alone again. I turn the page of the newspaper to start reading the story about the fireman's club downtown hosting something for the Fourth of July this year. Just as I settle in to begin reading the story, Lyla nudges my stomach with her elbow to get my attention. I close the paper and look down at her. She hands me the iPad, silently telling me that this episode is over and she wants a new one. I turn another episode on and hand it back to her. I pull the pink and purple blanket I draped over her legs up to ensure that she's covered and continue reading my paper.
Apparently, the fireman's club is sponsoring a Fourth of July party down at the boardwalk on the beach this year. They're going to have food, games, prizes, a parade and a firework show later on in the night. I think I'll go ahead and take Lyla to that. She might like it. I'll have to double check my schedule for next month but I'm pretty sure Arizona gave me the fourth off. I haven't had a Fourth of July off since I've started working there because the Fourth is always one of the busiest days at the hospital, with firework accidents and all. I think she gave it to me off this year because my situation has sorta changed this year with Jenna being gone and all. See, there are some perks to being good friends with the head of Pediatric surgery...like her giving me certain days off without having to request them, for example. I tear the ad out of the paper for the Fourth of July party and sit it down on the swing next to me. I'll hang it on the fridge because if I don't, I'll forget all about it. Lyla giggles at the episode she's watching and when she giggles, she starts coughing. I can't take off work tomorrow too so she's going to have to sit with my mom tomorrow. I feel guilty about it but I already took off one day and I can't take off another. My dad has a doctor's appointment to see about his cataracts tomorrow so he can't watch her like he usually does. I already asked my mom if she would and she said she'd love to watch her so that's where Lyla's going tomorrow. I hate leaving her with my mother because my mom tends to overdo her role as babysitter when she has her but I have no other choice. I could stick Lyla in the daycare they offer at the hospital where I work but being that she has crippling shyness, I don't think that's a good idea. I prefer to leave her with people she already knows.
As I flip to the "classifieds" section of the newspaper, I hear what sounds like tapping, making it's way down my sidewalk. I close the paper again for a second and look down at Lyla to make sure she's not making that tapping noise. It's not her. She's still watching the video on my iPad and sucking away on her pacifier. I look out into my front yard and the tapping sound is getting closer and closer until eventually, I see that it's someone's feet that's making the noise. A girl, carrying two handfuls of blue grocery bags is walking slowly by my house with her head down. The backs of her flip-flop sandals are making the "clip-clop" tapping noise when they smack against her heels as she takes each step. It's somewhere around 80-90 degrees outside today and she's wearing a pair of dark gray sweatpants and a yellow spaghetti-strapped tank top, along with her sandals. She has shoulder-length brunette hair and a very slim waistline. Wait, she must be the new girl everyone's been talking about. Short brown hair, really petite and a childish face? That's definitely her. I watch her as she walks in front of my gate. She doesn't look like she'd be in to partying and drinking and drugs. She looks like she's walking back from the bus stop at the end of the block and coming back from grocery shopping. She looks like she'll mind her own business.
She's walking kind of funny though. She's almost limping but I think it's because she's carrying a bunch of groceries in her hands and she's walking. If it was a normal day, where Lyla was taking her nap and I was alone out here on the porch, I would offer to help her out with her groceries, only because she seems to be struggling. At least her house is only about another block away. She pauses for a moment, adjusts her bags in her hands and continues on her way. I wonder if Mrs. Jensen has said anything to her yet. I'd like to think that she didn't. I'd like to think that she got a good look at the girl and decided that she's not an issue because really, she doesn't seem like she would be. She's walking around carrying her bags of groceries that she took a bus to buy. If she was some kind of hardcore partier, I don't even think she would be interested in taking a bus to go get groceries. Truth be told, I'm kind of wondering about her now. She moved into the crappiest house on the block; no scratch that—she moved into the crappiest house in town. She doesn't look like she's into making a meth lab so she must be next to desperate.
"Dada?" Lyla interrupts my thinking about the new girl with a tap on my arm. "Dada." She hands me the iPad so I take it off of her to put on a new episode but when I take it, I realize that the episode is still playing and it doesn't need to be changed. So I put the iPad down next to me and look down at her. "I pee peed." She sits up and hands me her pacifier. "I pee peed daddy." I nod my head and stand up. I look back out onto the sidewalk but the new girl is officially gone. I sigh. I pick Lyla up and put her on my hip so I can change her. There's one thing and one thing only that I agree with my mother on and that is that Lyla is ready to be toilet trained. If she's old enough and smart enough to tell me when she pees and poops on herself, she's old enough and smart enough to go sit on the potty when she has to go. I'm gonna start potty training her...I swear I am. I don't know how and I don't know when but I really am going to potty train her. I pick up the iPad and the newspaper and the blanket and bring them all in the house. After I change her, I'll turn on the TV in the living room and let her watch it while I fix dinner. I think I'm going to make chicken parmesean sandwiches. She likes pasta and I don't feel like making her a batch of lasagna so chicken parm seems like a good option. "Dada, you pee pee too?"
"Yeah, I pee." I shut the front door behind the both of us and take her to the living room. It's a sad shame how I keep pull-ups in nearly every room of the house. Maybe I'll run to the store sometime this week and get underwear for her. I think that's probably the best way to introduce her to the idea. If I buy her big girl underwear and show her all the pretty colors, I can introduce her to the potty like that and tell her that she can wear them if she learns how to use the potty. I have to make it fun for her in some kind of way. "Daddy pees in the potty though. Daddy's a big boy so he pees in the potty." I lie her down on the couch and take off her pajama pants. "Lyla's gonna learn to pee pee in the potty too." I take her pull-up off and stick her legs through a fresh one. When the new one is on her, she stands up on the couch and starts jumping on it. It's good to know that she feels better but I don't want her jumping on the couch. "No jumping on the couch, Ly. Sit down." I roll up the dirty diaper and put her pajama pants on the back of the couch. We're in the house now and rather than fight her to put them back on her, I'd rather just let her go pants-less.
"I jumping daddy!" She continues jumping up and down on the couch. "I jumping!"
"Sit down. Sit down and when I come back in here, I'll put something on TV for you to watch." She pokes her lip out and sits down on the couch instead of jumping on it. "I'll be right back, sweetness." I take the diaper to the kitchen and stick it in a plastic shopping bag so the smell doesn't make the entire kitchen stink. I tie the bag shut and stick it in the trashcan. I go to the freezer so I can defrost the package of chicken breasts I'll use for dinner tonight. I take the package out and stick it in the sink.
"Daaaaaaaddy!" Just as I start to run hot water over the chicken breasts, I hear a loud thud from the living room, followed by Lyla screaming—literally, screaming—my name. I rush to the living room to see what's the matter. As soon as I get into the living room, I see Lyla lying on the ground next to the coffee table. She's holding the left side of her face and she's at the point where she's silent because she's trying to catch her breath so she can scream. She doesn't have tears coming out of her eyes just yet but I know they're coming because her entire face is bloodshot red. I run over to her and scoop her up and as soon as her head hits my shoulder, she starts crying hard and loud. I don't need to ask her what happened because I already know. I already know she started jumping on the couch again after I clearly told her not to. It's hard to be mad at her though, especially when she's crying as hard as she is.
"Lemme see, Ly. Let me see..." I put her down on the couch and kneel in front of her. Her hand is clamped over the side of her face and she's hysterical. "Let daddy see." I pee her hands away from her face. Her mouth is bleeding and the side of her face, right next to her eye is already swelling up. "...Didn't I tell you to sit down?" I wipe the blood from her mouth with the back of my hand so I can see where it's coming from. I think she just bit her lip really hard. There are no teeth missing or anything like that. "Are you gonna listen to me next time?" I pick her up again and her head goes right back on my shoulder. I rub her back. "You're alright...you're okay." I take her to the kitchen and put her down on the counter. She's going to have a black eye tomorrow, I can see it now. I wet a paper towel in the sink and wring the water out. I dab it on her lip to clean off the blood. "Did you hit your head?" She nods and holds her arms out for me to hold her again. "Let me clean you up first." I hold the paper towel against her lip and examine her eye. She just hit it, probably off the side of the coffee table or something. It's not bleeding, she's not blinded and she's going to have a pretty nasty shiner tomorrow morning. "Daddy will hold some ice on it. You'll be okay." She pokes her lip out again so I kiss it. "All better?" She shakes her head so I kiss her eye too. "How about now?" She nods. "Wanna watch TV?" She nods again.
I kiss her on her cheek again and pick her back up. I take her back to the living room and put her on the couch. She's still holding the side of her face and she looks so upset. I turn on the TV and find Sofia the First for her to watch. "...Bad table, huh?" I put the remote on the couch next to her so she can change the channel if she wants. "Mean table." She's starting to crack a smile but she won't let it fully cross her face. I bend down and slap the glass of the coffee table. "Mean table!" She smiles at me. "Say, it...say 'bad table!' Say it."
"...Bad table." She points at it and sticks her tongue out at it.
Jo's Point of View.
I unfold my shirts from the folded piles I had them in while they were inside my duffle. I bought hangers at the dollar store today so I can officially put my clothes in the closet. I think my favorite part of this town is the dollar store. I know that probably sounds stupid but I'm being 100% truthful here. Lucille brought me home from work again today and on the way home, she had to stop at the dollar store so I went with her. They have everything in the dollar store here. They even have cheap furniture in this dollar store. Granted, the furniture comes in a box, I have to build it myself and it's most likely breakable under very little force but I bought two end tables for my bedroom from the dollar store. I'm not going to put them together until I have a bed though. The money my mom sent me should be here by tomorrow. I also took a bus to the grocery store and stocked up on some food. I had to make myself familiar with the grocery store around here so I'm not wandering around every time I go in it and I found that they have air mattresses in the superstore as well as groceries. I saw an air mattress that costs $230 and I think I'm going to buy myself the air mattress until I can save up enough of my tip money to buy myself a nice bedroom set.
Work today was pretty fun, to say the least. I only worked from 8:00 to 12:30 because it was so slow that Lucille got sent home and since she's my trainer, I have to do whatever she does. I left work last night with $43 in my pocket, from the tips that Lucille split with me. I only had $12 when I left this morning. I learned pretty much everything I need to know at work in two days. I learned the menu, the tables, the drinks and the daily specials. I still have to look at the menu to find out which meals can be used as side dishes or entrees and I have to check to make sure I don't screw up the soup of the day, but I'm pretty proficient at everything. Today was just a day to brush up on the bartending aspect of everything and since it was slow, Luke and this girl named Macy acted as my customers while I took their orders. I worked with Lucille, Luke and this little blonde girl named Macy, who's also very nice. Anyway, I have my first real shift on my own tomorrow and I'm a little bit nervous to screw up. I don't work with Lucille tomorrow because she's going on vacation for a few days, but I do work with Luke and this girl named Patty. I work the evening shift so I should bring in good tips from the dinner rush.
I carry my hangers over to my closet and put them up on the bar. I'm fully unpacked now. The only thing I had left to take out of my duffle was my clothes. I shut my closet and walk toward my kitchen. Ever since I scrubbed and vacuumed my carpets, they've been so much softer. I stop at my front door in my kitchen and stomp on my tennis shoes. The inside of my house is finally complete. I cleaned every room from ceiling to baseboard, I cleaned my fridge and put my groceries away, I put my bathroom in order and there's not much to my bedroom but I fixed the blankets of my makeshift bed. I'm going to start on the outside now. I drag out a bucket, a sponge, the carpet scrubber, a roll of paper towels and window cleaner and put everything on my dirty porch. I hold onto the railing next to my steps and carefully walk down them. I think I saw a hose on the side of my house but I'm not real sure so I'm gonna go check. I walk around to the side of my house and check. Sure enough, there's a green garden hose hanging up on the side of my house but it looks really old so I doubt that it actually works. I unravel it and hold onto the squirting part of it. I twist the faucet on and surprisingly, the water flows through the hose and comes out of the squirter. Okay, good. I wanted to hose off the outside of my house but I wasn't sure if I was going to have to buy a hose or not.
I keep the squirter pointed at the ground and walk the hose up on my porch. First, I fill up the bucket I brought out on the porch with water from the hose. Once it's all filled up, I start hosing off my door and my windows. Lucille told me that I shouldn't worry about what the outside of my house looks like because I'm not living on the outside and I guess she's right but I still don't want to live in a house that looks scary from the outside. Eventually, I hope I get enough money that I can paint my house. I won't paint the entire exterior of it. I'll just repaint the door, the shutters and the porch. It's crazy how much cleaner the house is already starting to look, just from me hosing it off. I turn around so I can hose off the front pillars on my porch and when I turn, I see someone walking toward me. I pause for a second, shocked that it seems like someone is going to come visit me. I don't know anyone...why would anyone want to come visit me? An elderly woman with light gray hair and thick rimmed glasses is walking up the pathway. Well, I'd better not be rude.
I put the hose down and let the water spray out onto my front lawn. I walk back down the steps so she doesn't have to come all the way up my walkway. I meet her next to the tree in my yard. I really wish I still had on the pair of sweatpants I wore out to the store today because I don't need her to see my legs as a first impression but I ditched the sweatpants as soon as I got back in the house because I was burning up. I shake my hands dry and wipe them on the seat of my baggy shorts as I approach the woman with a very fake smile on my face. "Hello." I use my nice voice to greet her. She doesn't appear to have driven here so I assume she's a neighbor of mine. Unless she walked all the way over here from the other side of town...no, that's unlikely. "Can I help you with something?" I ask her, hooking my thumbs through the belt hoops of my shorts.
"Sandy Jensen...nice to meet you." She holds her hand out to me.
I take her hand in mine and politely shake it. "Josephine Wilson, ma'am." We stop shaking hands and I return my thumb to the belt loop I took it out of. "You can call me Jo...and you must be one of my neighbors?" I smile at her.
"Yes, I live in the brown house down the street...right there." She points it out to me and I look, even though I can't see it. I pretend to see it though. "I just thought that I'd come introduce myself and formally welcome you to Pembroke." Her intentions seem friendly but I'm really good at reading people's energies and I can tell that she's expecting to be firm with me...lay down the law, maybe? I was raised to respect my elders by my mother but I sure hope this woman doesn't start talking crazy to me because I'll have to tell her to get the hell out of my yard. "Are you new to the area or just passing through for the moment?"
"I'm new...I'm from Massachusetts. I'm new to Florida, actually...not just Millerton." I try to keep my tone happy, cheerful and respectful. "This is a beautiful neighborhood." I take a deep breath and pretend to look around, taking in the scenery.
"Yes, yes it is." She nods her head at me and clears her throat. "Well, I'm not sure you know, but this is a relatively old neighborhood...our youngest resident here is 30 years old and the rest of us are well above retirement age. You see, we're used to living in a quiet, serene neighborhood...we just don't want anything disrupting that." I respectfully nod my head at her. Is she implying that I would disturb that? Is she trying to make sure I'm not a disturbance? Because if she is, that's horribly unfair. I'm not bothering anybody. I'm cleaning my freaking house for crying out loud. Cut me some slack here. I just left one place where everyone terribly misjudged me and I don't need any of that here. "How old are you? If you don't mind my asking."
Internally, I'm dying to tell her to mind her own damn business but like I said, I was raised so much better than that. "29." I clear my throat. She's clearly surprised that I'm as old as I just said that I am. I get that a lot though. Most people think I'm 23 or 25. I want to tell her to piss off, leave me alone and keep her crazy assumptions to herself but I really don't want to disrespect this woman. I just need to find a tactful way to let her know that I'm not going to be a bother in her oh-so-perfect neighborhood. "Um...yeah, I just moved here from Massachusetts." I tuck my hair behind my ear and cross my arms over my chest. "I wanted a new environment so I moved down here. I actually waitress down at them um...The Lobster Hut for now but that's only until a teaching position opens up at school around here. I'm actually a teacher."
"Oh, really?" She raises her eyebrows and cracks a smile across her hardened face. I think I might have softened her up by telling her that I'm a teacher. I think it's now clear to her that I'm not going to be a freaking disturbance. "Do you have family here? Maybe I know your folks..."
"No, it's just me." I shake my head. "No family, no friends...just me." I try to smile again. I can tell that she's wondering about me now. I can tell she's wondering why the hell I would just pick up and move to Florida without my friends or my family. My mind is working, trying to figure out a lie to tell her...a lie to make my move here seem more plausible to her. Something that doesn't require me telling her that I killed my husband and someone else that I don't feel like addressing right now. A lie that covers everything but is also believable. Like maybe I moved here to help my sick grandmother out but then she'd ask about the sick grandma because old people are nosy like that. I need a lie to tell her, a lie to tell her quick. But for the first time in my entire lying career...
I don't know what to say.
X X X
"Sometimes I run...sometimes I hide. Sometimes I'm scared of you. But all I really want is to hold you tight...treat you right. Be with you day and night...baby all I need is time." I've been singing an awful lot since I've moved into this house and I'm not quite sure why. I mean, it's probably because I don't have a TV or any other means of entertainment but I've never really been much of a singer. I always have liked music, even as a little girl but even though I would sit in my bedroom and blast music while I did my homework, I would never sing. I was just never...really a singer, honestly. But as I've been cleaning up my house, setting things up...I can't stop singing. I'm currently sitting in a boiling hot bubble bath belting out the lyrics to a Britney Spears song and I feel pathetic. I really should invest in getting a television sometime soon though because this singing thing isn't me.
I take a deep breath and dunk my washcloth underneath the hot, soapy water. It's taking me a while to get used to the hot water because I made it scalding hot but it has to be pretty hot if I want it to help my hips. One thing I look away from my physical therapy treatments is letting my body soak in hot water for half an hour at least once a week. I try to do that because when I get out, I do actually feel better. Maybe once I get established and financially stable, I can get good health insurance and maybe continue with my physical therapy. I guess I'm just glad that I can walk. I shattered my pelvis in the accident and they told me that I probably wouldn't walk ever again and here I am, walking. I can run too but I don't run...I just don't run. I remember overhearing Mark's parents telling their lawyers that they couldn't believe that I got out of the accident "unscathed." I think that was the first time I really broke down over something that Mark's parents have said to/about me. I mean...define "unscathed"? I don't think being pinned underneath an overturned car for two hours is unscathed. I don't think shattering my pelvis into so many pieces that I have more metal than bones in my hips is unscathed. I think they just would've been happier if I died too. I think they're just mad at I survived and Mark and the other person didn't. I wish Mark had survived too but I think the fact that the other person—the person that I REALLY don't want to talk about—died too because of my actions eats at me more than the fact that Mark died does.
I tilt my head back and wring my washcloth out on my face, just to get my face wet. You know what? I'm away from Chamberlain now. I'm in the privacy of my own home, nobody's looking at me, nobody's judging me and nobody hates me here yet. My jaw trembles and I can feel my eyebrows contort and instead of forcing it away, pushing it back like I've been doing, just to put on a brave face and show the people of Chamberlain that I'm strong, I just let it go. I'm tired of holding it back. I'm so tired of just bottling it all in, pushing it out of my thoughts and giving up my right to grieve. I watched my husband—the love of my life—die. Right in the car, right beside me, I watched him die. We smashed into the guardrail and the car was rolling and one minute, he was there...he was telling me that he loved me, that he loved me so, so much and that he couldn't wait for us to spend he rest of our lives together and everything and then the next minute, he was gone. He stopped talking and that was it. Crashing into the guardrail like that sobered me up within seconds. The last thing I heard him say was my name. We were hanging upside down, dangling by our seat belts and I looked over to the passenger's side and he was trying to hold my hand but he couldn't move. And he said my name and that was it. It took them two hours to get me out. For two hours, I sat there next to my dead husband's body. I was completely conscious when they cut me out of that car and the whole time, I was just praying that either I'd lose consciousness or I'd die too. I couldn't feel my legs and I was screaming for someone to come help me—come help us, save my husband. I just wanted to die too. Damn, I miss my husband. I miss how happy he made me.
I sniff and wipe my face off with my soaking wet washcloth. I clear my throat and exhale hard. Okay, I'm alright now. I needed to cry. It wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be, but I needed that. I thought that when I let the emotions following Mark's death finally hit me like I just let them, I would be inconsolable and just...a wreck. But I wasn't. I'm fine now and crying felt good. I imagine that when I'm ready to think about the other person I killed, I will be an emotional wreck. I'm just not ready to confront that part yet. I clear my throat once again and grab the bar of soap that's resting on the ledge just above my shoulder. I lather my washcloth up with the soap and start washing my arms and chest up first. I'd love to just sit here and soak in the bathtub for a while longer but I can't. I have two pieces of french bread pizza in the oven for dinner and I have to go get them before they burn. I grip the side of the tub and pull myself up. My hips feel so good right now. They don't hurt at all.
Anyway, even after talking to that nosy old woman today, I still feel like Millerton is going to be head and shoulders above Chamberlain. I'm determined to put everything that happened in Massachusetts behind me and I'll be damned if I let it control my life again. I just want to work here, fix up my house, find a teaching job and live happily ever after with my new friends in my new town, in my new state. I'm not looking to find a man, I'm not looking to have children and have a family. I'm so content with the way things are right now that I'm honestly scared that something is going to change. Don't get me wrong. I'm not content with the fact that I live in this house, I'm not content with making three dollars an hour and I'm not content with the fact that I'm a widow. But I am content with the fact that nobody here knows me, nobody here judges me, and nobody here is mean to me. I'm content with my life...pleasantly satisfied.
I wrap a towel around my body and tuck it under my armpit so it'll stay up. I step out of the bathtub and walk to my kitchen. Come to think of it, my house is kind of cozy...in a scary kind of way. It's just me in here and since I fixed it up, it's sort of homely. Just wait until I get a bed and a couch and a TV and a kitchen table. Then, I'll really have a decent place. I open up my oven and check on my pizzas. They need to cook a little while longer, so I walk back to my bedroom and find a pair of pajamas. I seem to live in a really nice neighborhood. I found out a lot from talking to that old woman today, after I decided against lying to her. I didn't lie to her, I just decided that it's none of her business if I'm here without my family or not. But I found out that all my neighbors are old people, aside from a the guy named Alex. The "cute" one from work yesterday? He lives on my street too. Mrs. Jensen says that he's a busy man and he's not home very much. Apparently, his pretty little girl is three years old and her name is Layla, I think she said. She told me the same thing Lucille told me at work yesterday, that he's a nice guy but he's sort of a loner that's all about his daughter since his wife died of Lymphoma a little while ago.
I sort of feel bad for him in a certain kind of way. Everyone probably views him as a loner or rude because he turns down dates but I just don't think they understand how much it sucks to lose someone you love. If his wife died as short a time ago as everyone says she did, I don't know how they expect him to just be okay and jump into the dating scene right away. Poor guy. I will say one thing about Millerton vs. Chamberlain... back in Chamberlain, we didn't bash guys for pulling away from dating to focus on their children. Those were the kind of guys everyone sought after in Chamberlain. But I guess for a guy to be deemed, "the most eligible bachelor in Millerton" he must be doing something right. I gotta be honest though...I don't really get the hype about the guy. I saw him last night and for a second on his porch this morning and he looks like a regular guy to me. He's not ugly but I don't get why everyone is so intrigued by him. He seems like a good, decent guy...with a job, taking care of his kid. Guys like that are a dime a dozen in Chamberlain. Maybe they're not used to that here in Millerton.
I do feel bad for him though. But make that one person that I have something in common with here in Chamberlain. I'll probably never talk to the guy but it's nice to know that there's someone here that would understand what I'm going through if crap were to hit the fan with me here in Millerton. If people were to ever find out about my past here, maybe he'd understand that I lost someone I loved and maybe he'll be nice to me. I'll probably never speak more than a word to him, but he'd understand me, I think. That's comforting...
And scary at the same time.
Alex's Point of View.
"Dada, when you comin' home?" We're not even at my mother's house yet and she's already asking me when she can be home with me. She's sitting in the backseat of the car sucking on her pacifier and holding her stuffed lion. I work 3:00 to 11:00 today so by the time I get home and make it to my mom's to come pick her up, she should be sleeping. Her ear is doing better today and she's not coughing as much as she was yesterday but she's still not 100%. Plus, her little face is still hurting her. I was right. She woke up with a nasty black eye and a swollen lip but she's still gorgeous. I'm gonna bring home some of the ice packs and eye patches from the hospital. Her black eye will go away faster if she sleeps with ice on it and the way for her to sleep with ice on it is to bring her home one of the fancy ice packs we use for child abuse victims and broken bones. The fancy ice packs ice the wound to the point where swelling goes down but it doesn't freeze the skin. "I don't wunna go to Gammys." She's been telling me that all day. She told me that when I poured her cereal, she told me that when I made her turkey sandwich for lunch, she told me that when I packed her bag and she told me that when I put her in the car. "You comin' home wight?"
"I'll be home when you wake up from your nap tomorrow. I know you don't want me to go but I have to. I took off work to play with you yesterday, I can't do it again even though I want to." I pull into my mom's driveway. "You gotta be good for Grammy though. If you're good for her, daddy will take you to get ice cream when he gets home tomorrow. Okay?" I work 3-11 tonight and then I have to turn around and go back to work from 7-3. My dad is coming over at 6:00 tomorrow morning to watch her while I work. I'll take her for ice cream when I get home from work tomorrow afternoon. I get out of the car and walk around to get her out of the backseat. She unstraps herself from her seat and climbs over to me. I pick her up and rest my cheek against the top of her head. After I drop her off here, this will be the last time I see her until tomorrow afternoon. I'm gonna miss her so much. "You gonna be good for Grammy?" She nods her head and clings to me. "Daddy's gonna miss you."
"Miss you too daddy." She twists my hair around her finger and rubs my stubble with her other hand. I stroke her hair and kiss the top of her head. I'm going to cry in a minute if I don't get outta here. I didn't know leaving her was gonna be this hard. I'm gonna come back and pick her up around 11:30 tonight but she'll be sleeping...and she'll still be sleeping by the time I go to work tomorrow morning. I'm not gonna see her until this time tomorrow. I don't want t leave her. "Daddy, hurry back... I miss you."
"I'll hurry." I rub her back and sigh. I should take her in now before I'm late for work. Arizona won't penalize me if I'm a few minutes late but I try to be punctual. I carry Lyla up the steps to my mom's front door and knock. Unsurprisingly, my mom answers with quickness. Knowing her, she was probably waiting by the door for us. She jumps at the chance to get her hands on Lyla, ever since I told her that she couldn't come to my house without an invite anymore.
The front door swings open and my mom is standing in the doorway. Lyla turns her head away from my mom and squeezes around my neck tighter. "Ooooh! Finally!" She rubs her hands and holds her arms out. "Come here, Lyla honey..." She doesn't even greet me and honestly, that doesn't bother me. I could care less. I just need her to watch my kid for a little while, she doesn't have to greet me. Me and my mom's relationship is pretty strained, to say the least. I love her though and I know that she loves me, even though we piss each other completely off. "Lyla, come to Grammy, sweeatheart..."
"She hasn't napped yet, so she's sleepy." I hand my mom her bag. "Her pull-ups are in there, her blanket, her dolls and she has an ear infection so I put her medicine in here. Give her three tablespoons in about an hour and three more at 6:00. I'll be back to get her around 11:30 tonight." I rub Lyla's back and prepare to hand her over to my mom. "Alright, Ly...daddy gotta go now."
Lyla finally turns her head towards my mom and when she does, my mom gasps. "Alexander...Michael..." She clamps her hand over her mouth and looks at me like she's getting ready to cry and like she wants to hit me.
"What, ma?" I wrinkle my eyebrows.
"Her face! What happened to her face!?" She yanks Lyla off of me and cradles her face in her hands. "Oh my god..."
"Ma, she fell! She was jumping on the couch and she hit her face on the...the...the coffee table, thing." I stuttered for a second because I'm PISSED that she would even...suggest that I would...I know what she's suggesting. "She fell!"
"A fall wouldn't do that to her face! ALEX, LOOK AT THIS BABY'S FACE!" She grabs Lyla's chin and turns her face toward me. "Someone hit her! Someone hit her!"
"She fell off the couch! She bit her lip and hit her face off the coffee table ma, I swear to god! I was in the kitchen and I heard-"
"Bull. A fall wouldn't do this to her face and even if what you're saying is true, why weren't you watching her?! If you saw her jumping on the couch, why wouldn't you tell her to sit down?!" I open my mouth to explain but she stops me before I can get a word in edgewise. "Look at her face, Alex! This is HORRIBLE! It looks like someone punched her, full force in her face!" She shakes her head at me. "How could you?!"
"I DIDN'T!" I reach out to take Lyla back. Man, screw this. I'm taking her to the daycare at the hospital. I'm not going to sit around and listen to my mom accuse me of hitting my daughter! "Ask her! She fell off the couch, I would NEVER..."
She snatches Lyla away from me. "Alex, just tell me the truth. I know what it's like...when a baby is crying and you can't get it to stop. I know how frustrating it can be when you can't stop the crying. I know what it's like when you get angry, I've been there...so just tell me the truth. Tell me the truth, Alex..."
"I AM! SHE WAS JUMPING ON THE COUCH AND SHE FELL!" I don't mean to raise my voice at my mother but my god, she's irritating the hell out of me. "...I'm not gonna sit here and listen to you accuse me of hitting my daughter. Mom, I don't...I've never gotten irritated with her and even if I did, I would never touch her. Fuck this...gimme my daughter. I'm taking her with me." I snatch her bag out of my mom's hand. "Give me my daughter!"
"Go to hell, Alex. Your story makes no sense and you're sitting here stuttering, trying to explain to me...I know you hit her. I've seen your nasty temper and there's no way this baby fell down, hit her face and did this to herself. Look at her face. Are you really going to tell me that she did this to herself? No, Alex...there's no way. I knew from the start you weren't prepared to take care of her, you should've given her to me from the start. There's no way this baby should still be in diapers, sucking on a pacifier and sleeping with you! You're unprepared as a father, a poor excuse for one and you hit her...you know you did and you're not getting her back off me. You can go to hell for all I care. I can't believe you.." Lyla starts to cry in my mom's arms and eventually, she reaches out to me. "Shh, it's okay honey...it's okay...you're gonna stay here with me for a while..."
"Mom, I swear to god." I bawl my hands up into fists. I really don't want to hit my mom...I'll never hit my mom but I swear to god I'm tempted right now. "I did not hit her. Look at her...why would I hit her? She's my daughter...give her here. She loves me and I love her. Please just give her here. For a minute. I did not hit my daughter. She'll tell you herself." I take Lyla off her anyway, against her wishes and all. "Didn't you fall off the couch, Ly?" She nods her head. She's crying and rubbing her eyes. "Mom, don't do this. She already lost...don't do this. I know I'm not a good dad but I wouldn't dare hurt her more than she's already been hurt. Don't do this. I just really need you to watch her for me. Please don't do this. But trust me on this. I didn't touch her." I kiss Lyla's head. "I didn't..."
"Just tell me the truth, Alex. If you did this to her... I just want to know." She stands there and shakes her head.
"I didn't hit her." I sigh. "Now will you please just watch her? I really have to go to work..."
"Give her here." She holds her arms out again. It's very clear to me that Lyla doesn't want to go to my mom anymore, after hearing her talk to me like that but I know that there's a part of Lyla that doesn't know what's going on. The only thing she knows is that me and my mom were cussing at each other and I think she understands that my mom thinks I hurt her lip and her face. I know she doesn't want me to leave her again and I don't want to leave her either but my dad's not home and I have no other choice. I don't want to have her around all those kids at the daycare knowing how shy she is.
But this will be the LAST time my mom ever babysits for me.
A/N: For my reviewer named Sarah, I saw your review about how you never saw a toddler that you could consider beautiful and I just wanted to tell you that that comment made me smile so hard for some reason. Idk why, but it did. Also, I forgot that you don't follow me on tumblr or anything like that and almost everyone on here does, so they already have a mental picture of what Lyla looks like since I've posted multiple pictures of her face claim. I never really took it into consideration that some people aren't aware of what I write Lyla to look like because I just assumed that everyone saw her FC on tumblr. The way Lyla looks is sort of hard to describe in words because she is a very...unique looking child.
So, for anyone interested in knowing what/who exactly I have in mind when I write Lyla, you can head over to my tumblr and drop something in my ask box and I'll reply with a picture of her FC. My tumblr is flawlesspeasant . tumblr . com for those of you that don't know.
