This turned out significantly longer than planned. But, the muse will go where it goes. There is a trigger warning for OC character death.
"Being a family means you are a part of something very wonderful. It means you will love and be loved for the rest of your life." ~ Lisa Weedn
She doesn't know how this became her life. She never expected, even in her wildest dreams, that she could live true to her name. As a child she lost hope for the good. Her dreams consisted more of growing up in one home than of growing up with a loving family. She wished for a job to pay the bills, not anything more. She wished to not be teased, but not to be loved. In her mind it just wasn't in the cards. And never did she wish for a child so bright, so full of life. Sure, she'd considered the possibility, but it was never more than a penny in a wishing well: an illogical and inefficient fantasy.
June 6th, 1991: Age 2
"Happy," Patrick says, his voice lighter than she's heard it in a while. "I have a surprise for you."
"A suwprise?" Happy asks, toddling over to her father, a tiny smile on her face.
"Yes, a surprise." He picks her up, moving her to his hip, pushing her black locks out of her eyes. He really needs to get better at this whole hair thing, he grumbles. He walks her into her bedroom, flipping on the lights before walking over to a sheet-covered object.
"It's a little house." Happy hiccups, her tiny body wiggling out of Patrick's grip.
"Now how do you know that?" He grins, laughing at his bright little girl. She shrugs. "Not gonna tell me your secrets, huh?" He places her on the ground and ruffles her hair. He pulls off the sheet, haphazardly tossing it out of the way, quickly enough to get a good look at his daughter's face. She's not exactly smiling, but she has a look of fierce determination on her face-her eyebrows are slightly furrowed, her mouth puckered, her head tilting ever so slightly.
He asks, still in the process of decoding her reaction, "It's a doll house. Do you like it?"
Happy nods. "My house." She walks closer, sticking her head inside the tiny rooms, earning a chuckle from Patrick. "I like it." She sits down, running her fingers over the faux carpet and lifting up a tiny doll. "Who is this?"
"The family that lives in the house." Patrick points to the figurines. "There's a mommy and a daddy and a baby."
Happy doesn't say anything, but she places the doll back at the kitchen table. She moves on to the living room, investigating the little trinkets-couches and a television for starters-her eyes still alight with curiosity.
And, as Patrick looks on, he can't help but feel that familiar tug. His heart crying out, his happiness in this moment clouded by grief. Grace would've loved this. She would've loved you. But he doesn't say it. He can't say it. She doesn't deserve the burden of his pain. So, instead, he kisses the top of her head and tells her he'll be in the kitchen. She mumbles something that he thinks is more so directed at the house than at him, and he takes it as his cue to leave. Maybe, just maybe, the six-pack would help mitigate the pain.
When he leaves, she carefully lifts up the dolls once more and hides them in a little box under her bed. "It's time for conswuction," Happy tells them. "I'll get you later."
Except she doesn't get the chance. Once she arrives at the group home, she never plays with a doll again.
December 14th, 1997: Age 8
"Good afternoon, children," Ms. Waldi walks into the classroom with a smile on her face. "So today we have visitors. Prospective parents who are looking for that very special child to help them form a family." Happy grins. Maybe this will be my chance. She wants to be loud, to be able to shout and laugh and jump up and down, but she forces herself to stay still. They won't like you if you do that. So she sits and continues to listen to the instructions. "So, best behavior. They will be watching." Ms. Waldi turns to Happy, a slight look of disdain marring her features. "And that means no wrenches, no ratchets." Happy deflates, turning over her nut. "A proper toy for a proper lady." She hands Happy a doll, complete with a dress and flowing blonde hair, and Happy just nods.
"I'll be better this time, Ms. Waldi." She means it, she really does, even if that means pretending to like dolls and playing make-believe games and being happy all the time. She can do it. She's trying.
"I'm sure you will be." The older woman walks out of the room, mentioning that she will be back shortly to lead the children into the common area.
"You're so lucky," the girl next to Happy, Rosa, says. Happy turns to her, confused. "That's a new toy," Rosa says, pointing to the doll. "Dolls are my favorite."
"Oh." Happy looks at the toy, turning it around and around in her small hands. She doesn't see the appeal. Looking to Rosa, she asks, "Do you want to play with it?" She extends her hand.
"Really?" Rosa accepts the toy, hugging it close to her chest. "Thank you!"
"It's okay." Happy folds her hands together to stop them from shaking nervously. "I don't really like dolls anyway."
"But they're so much fun." The little girl stands from her chair, spinning around with the doll. "You can play house."
"I know." Happy shrugs.
"My house before this," Rosa chatters excitedly as Happy recalls that Rosa has been in the system since infancy and, up until now, had lived with the same foster family for eight years, "had lots of dolls and toys. I liked to play house and doctor and pool with them. One day I'm gonna do that with my family." She nods her head resolutely. "What will you do?"
The question is innocent enough, but it fills Happy's stomach with dread. "Maybe I won't have a family."
"No, silly." Rosa puts her hand on her hip. "Everyone gots to get a family some time."
Happy nods, unsure but not in the mood to argue, when Ms. Waldi returns. "Alright, children. Let's go meet our guests!"
Later that night, with most of her friends missing-with mostly everyone missing-she resolves that she was right. Not everyone will be lucky enough to get a family after all.
August 28th, 2007: Age 18
She had accepted at an early age that her life would not amount to much. As far as she was concerned, it would be a life of her and her tools. That was enough-that had to be enough-in fact, it would have to amount to everything.
So when she is eighteen, living on her own and free of bouncing from group home and back again, she takes her lack of family in stride. It isn't until another woman, much softer than Happy, but strong in her intelligence and opinions, tries to knock down some of those walls so close to Happy's heart, that she ever considers anything different.
"I'm Jade," the young woman says, waving her hand with a friendly smile adorning her face.
Happy looks up from her schematics, but only for a second. She's one day into college and already she's being approached by the people-people, the ones who everyone can't help but like. Don't they know I'm not like everyone else? Happy had grumbled to herself earlier in the day. I knew this stuff when I was five. But she didn't voice it: this college may be her ticket into a job, something that would pay the bills and fortify her as an intelligent and independent young woman. But seriously, she should've skipped a bunch of grades (and maybe she would have, had she stayed in one place long enough for her teachers to notice). Looking back down, Happy draws a forty-five degree angle for the roof.
This girl, though, Jade her name was, is not giving up. She takes a seat at Happy's table, resting her head on her hand. "That's an interesting schematic. What are you designing?"
Happy continues to draw; however, her interest is piqued. Most people think she's weird, mean, and too smart to talk to. Happy likes to think it is true, but it does make things more lonely.
"Is this based on colonial architecture?" Jade cranes her neck to see more. "Second Spanish period?"
Happy finally looks up, tucking her pencil behind her ear. "Yes." She squints her eyes. "How do you know so much about architecture?"
"I took a class." Jade shrugs. "It was an art history class. Some kind of special topic course." She smiles. "What about you?"
Happy contemplates hiding behind her work again before deciding that Jade isn't half bad. She could try to talk, even if it got her nowhere. "I'm a mechanical engineer. Physics. Math. Designing and building. That's my thing." She motions to the blueprints. "This is just a hobby. Something to keep my mind busy."
Jade nods. "You're very talented." She offers another smile. "What made you choose to come here?"
Happy takes a look around the quad, the bold letters of the college on the building ahead. "It's a long story."
"Want to get a coffee? I have all day."
Thinking it couldn't be that awful and that boy, did she need a coffee, Happy nods. "Sure." She stands, collecting her materials before neatly storing them in her bag. "I'm Happy, by the way."
"Nice to meet you, Happy."
And for the first time since she was two, Happy thinks there may be some good left in the world after all. She has a friend.
February 7th, 2008: Age 19
"It's going to be okay, Happy," Jade says, a tiny smile on her face.
Happy is sitting by her bedside, her hands gripping Jade's tightly. "Jade-" She looks from her girlfriend's pale skin, to the black circles under her eyes, to the blue tinge of her hands.
"You're going to be okay." Jade gives Happy's hands a small squeeze; it's all she can manage in her current state.
Happy sighs, her stomach still in knots. "What do you need?"
"Just for you to be here." And so they sit. They sit in the silence that is no longer calm. Happy tries to warm Jade's fingers as they wait. The nurses come in twice. The doctor once.
After what seems like forever, Jade turns her head to look into Happy's eyes. "Hey, don't worry about me, okay? I'm going to be fine." But Happy sees the pain hidden behind her eyes.
"Statistically-"
Jade rolls her eyes, a slight grin forming on her face. "I know you're a number person, but let's not think about that." She rubs her thumb over Happy's palm. "I'll be okay. Because no matter what happens, I had a good life. I got to be with you. I'm happy."
Happy wills herself to hold in the tears. This wasn't the way things were supposed to go. Not after she let down her walls. Not after she found someone who made her truly happy. And yet, here they were. In less than three hours, Jade would pass. And Happy would lock herself in a hospital supply closet and cry. Cry for everything she never had. Cry for everything she lost. Good things don't happen for Happy Quinn. So she leaves. She leaves her home, her school, her state. She runs to escape the pain of the memories.
November 29th, 2011: Age 21
"I can't let you do that," Happy says, hands on her hips.
"I don't have a choice, Happy." Walter turns toward his computer, typing another algorithm.
"Like hell you don't." Happy huffs. "Hack the system. Change the visa. Change your status."
"That's already illogical considering the fact that if I get caught, all of us are going to jail." Walter looks up and she is able to see the agitation in his eyes. "Besides, they already sent me notification. I'm on their radar now."
Happy slams her hands on his desk. "Find another way." She can't lose this, too. This ragtag team of geniuses. They're her home. And if she's not going to have a family of her own, she needs this. She needs something .
Then, she stiffens, standing up straighter. "Let's get married." After all, it won't matter for the future she has planned. Plus they would get to stay together, as a team. It's the best choice for all of them. Or, at least, it has to do.
December 25th, 2014: Age 27
She has a father. A real, living, breathing father who lives just fifteen minutes away from the garage. A father who, up until recently, has only caused her pain. But he knows.
"You look just like her. I knew who you were the first time you walked into my shop." He says it, voice tender, his nervousness evident. "After your mother died, I was lost. I hit the bottle. Hard. Still do. You were so special. Deserved better than me." She staring now, entranced by his confession. "I always loved you."
It's those words, so beautifully strung together, that send her mind into overdrive. Because he did love her. He did care about her. And he had tried to do what he thought was best. To give her a better family. One without a broken father. One that was whole and full of light. All too suddenly she's moving toward him, embracing him a hug tight enough to make breathing difficult. And as he holds on just as tight, she lets out a breathless laugh of relief.
She had a father. She has a father. She has a father and she has friends. It's almost too good to be true. But he's standing here, hugging her, his breath ragged against her hair, and she knows it's real.
May 5th, 2016: Age 28
Life goes on and life gets better. Or she likes to think it does. She knows that logically she should be cautious, and in some ways she is. She hides her past. She hides her true desires. However, on the other hand, she gives her heart. She dates Toby. She becomes an aunt to Ralph. She supports Sly and gives advice to Walter. She soon finds out that that is not enough.
She couldn't say yes to his proposal. She saw the signs. The hints. The direction their relationship was going in. But she couldn't open her mouth. She couldn't let him leave. She couldn't be the one to ruin her own happy ending. And yet, here she is.
"You broke my heart," he says, week after week.
And she gets it. She really does. She still wants him to understand. She still wants to make things right. "I love you." The words are heartfelt, so soft and vulnerable. And she realizes she should have said them more. But she didn't and she can't change the past. She can only accept that she destroyed her chance at bliss. All for a thin veil of security.
July 18th, 2017: Age 29
She didn't know if they would recover, but they do. There are fights and counseling sessions, tears and ice cream. There are heartfelt confessions and the uncovering of painful truths, but they survive. She loves him and he loves her. He wants to marry her.
She's mourning the loss of a baby that never was and she assumes he is as well, but in the midst of the sadness, there is also an inkling of hope. They will have a family. Not today, but someday. And now more than ever she realizes that the things she pushed away-the family, the dolls, the friends-were really the things she wanted most.
Later that night, when both are in bed, sweaty and sated, perfectly content, Toby pulls her closer, leaning her on his chest. "Our kid is going to be awesome." He says it so quietly, afraid to break the peace, but a lazy smile settles over her mouth at the comment.
"It's going to be the best kid ever." She chuckles at her choice of dialogue. They are words she is so unused to using, but they feel right.
"Don't call our future child an 'it.'" Toby shakes his head. "She's going to be a badass mechanic. Or dancer. Or doctor." He leans in to place a kiss in Happy's hair. "Anything she does will be badass."
Happy raises her eyebrows. "How do you know our child will be a she?"
"Father's intuition," he says, smirking. "Plus, I did go to Harvard."
"What's that have to do with anything?" Happy turns her head to glance upward at his eyes. "The med school card doesn't even apply."
"I like to brag sometimes." He smiles. "And our kid will definitely be a girl."
"If you say so." Happy rolls her eyes good naturedly.
"I say so."
January 3rd, 2020: Age 31
"She's perfect," Toby says, cradling his daughter's delicate, beanie-covered head. "I love her already."
"You better," Happy laughs before groaning in pain. "Hurt like a bitch."
"Happy! Tiny ears." Toby leans in to whisper in his daughter's ear. "Mommy needs to watch her language." She mutters a "hey!" He continues anyway. "But she's pretty amazing. You're going to love her. I know I do." He moves his lips to press a tiny peck on the baby's forehead, causing her to stir. Opening her eyes, her gaze flits around the room. "Well aren't you curious."
"She needs to eat." Happy motions for Toby to hand her their child. He settles her into Happy's open arms before sitting next to his wife, placing an arm around her shoulder. "This is going to take some getting used to," Happy says, guiding her daughter to latch.
Toby murmurs his assent, rubbing his fingers over Happy's shoulder. "She needs a name."
Happy nods, gently rocking the baby as tiny suckling noises begin to filter through the room. "Why did we wait until the last minute again?"
"Because we can't just give her a name! We have to let her choose the name."
"I know," Happy laughs, "Eidetic memory, remember? It's just, now she's here and we still have no names."
Toby shrugs. "Be patient." He turns to look at their little girl, thinking. "How about Ada?"
"Too old school."
"Olivia?"
"She's not an Olivia."
"Abby."
"Mean girl name."
Toby scoffs. "I knew a nice Abby."
"Well I didn't." Happy repositions her daughter to relieve some of the pressure on her arms.
"It's your turn." He sees Happy furrow her brows. "Not so easy, huh?"
"What about Mairin?" She nuzzles her head into his neck.
"That's…" Toby considers it, staring at their tiny angel, "perfect." He squeezes her side. "Mairin Grace."
Her heart soars at the tiny word. "I love you," she whispers.
"I love you, too." He looks at Mairin. "And you. I love you."
As Mairin finishes eating, Happy rests against Toby; she's in a little pain, but she's content. "I was right, you know." Happy grunts in question, comfortable and having almost been lulled to sleep in the silence. "She's a girl."
She doesn't fight him, only smiles and tucks herself further into him. This, she thinks, is a good life to live.
March 1st, 2023: Age 33
"I love you this much!" Mairin shouts, her arms open wide.
"Well I love you this much," Happy smiles, opening her arms wider.
Mairin tilts her head before laying down on the couch and spreading her arms and legs wide. "I love you this much."
Happy chuckles. "I love you," Happy says, inching closer, "this much!" She starts tickling her daughter, laughing along with her sweetheart. After a minute, Happy stops her attack, moving Mairin's legs and sitting down on the couch. Mairin cuddles into her mother's side. "You're the best, Mommy."
Happy's heart swells. "And so are you, Miss Mairin Grace."
She wasn't always like this. Learning to be a mom took time. Opening up and letting loose took time. But loving her family with all of her heart never did.
Her family. She likes to think there's no greater gift.
"A mother's love for her child is like nothing else in the world. It knows no law, no pity, it dares all things and crushes down remorselessly all that stands in its path." ~ Agatha Christie
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