Chapter Ten
Darla
I ramble around my galley kitchen in my favorite comfy clothes—a pair of ratty surgical scrubs, my old gray university sweatshirt, and my favorite flip-flops. To celebrate the last day of school, I am making Mexican food. Stella loves to make tacos. If I didn’t know better, I would think she was descended from the Aztecs. She eats chips like other kids eat french fries.
“You better hold off on those jalapeños. They’re killers,” I say to her as she pops another salsa-laden chip in her mouth. She seems completely unfazed by the heat, even though beads of sweat are already forming on her forehead.
“I know what else will kill you,” she says.
I take out the ingredients for our meal. “Yeah? What’s that?”
“A spinning wheel.”
I stare at her.
“It’s true. That’s what happened to Sleeping Beauty.”
“Ahh. It’s a good thing we don’t have a spinning wheel.”
“I know.” She bounces on one foot then the other. “Can I shred the cheese?” She blows a strand of hair out of her face.
I have absolutely no self-control around her. It has been the two of us for so long that it would be really weird to have a traditional household—a mom, a dad, two point five kids, and a dog. I’m so used to doing everything myself that I’m not sure if I could hand over some of that control.
At first, it was overwhelming because I had to take all the day and night feedings. I was the one who had to make a mad dash to the store during a tornado warning with a three-month-old in tow because I ran out of diapers. And I paced the floor alone, praying that God would let her fever break.
But we survived, and every day got better and better. Eventually, I found my groove, and with help from friends like Isaac, we’ve done pretty well on our own. He really stepped up to the plate since my father didn’t want anything to do with me and my illegitimate child, and my crazy sister had already moved to Los Angeles.
Isaac was there through it all—the pregnancy, the delivery, the post-partum anxiety, and all those times I needed someone to fall back on. He even helped out by watching Stella when I had to work the night shifts as a staff nurse. But the missing piece of the puzzle has always been the daddy-sized elephant in the room.
I tried to date, but that faded over time. It wasn’t worth the effort. The bar had been set so high that even an astronaut would have had trouble reaching it. The only person that would fit all my criteria was tucked neatly away in medical school, living the life he wanted.
He has some nerve, waltzing back in and acting as if life is peachy, as if he doesn’t even remember that one night. It’s as though he doesn’t even remember he has a daughter. Medical school must have zapped all his memory cells for him to forget something like that. The party, the baby, the emails, the rejection. It breaks my heart to think he has so little respect for the life he created when she is absolutely wonderful.
I hand Stella the shredder. “Here, make sure you don’t shred your knuckles this time.”
“Oh, Mommy, I only did that once.”
She takes the chunk of cheddar in her tiny hand and slowly starts making little bits of crumbled cheese. I don’t care if the shreds are imperfect. Cheese is cheese. Most of it lands on the floor, which Yeti willingly cleans up. I brown the ground beef on the stove, keeping one eye peeled over my shoulder to make sure she doesn’t get her little hands too close to the shredder’s sharp edges.
“I like lots of cheese. Daddy does too.” She must have been a fly on the wall, watching the recent turn of events.
“What makes you think that?”
She shrugs. “Don’t all daddies? Can we watch a movie tonight?”
I grin at my daughter. Sometimes I can’t keep up with her rapid shifts in conversations. She can go from what happened at school to some current event to that pretty butterfly outside the window in less than thirty seconds. All the while, I’m still trying to work my way through what happened at school. She sure does keep me on my toes.
“Sure.”
“Kade has a great daddy.”
And we’re back to daddy talk. This is starting to get freaky. If she has the ability to read my mind, we are going to be in a world of trouble when she’s sixteen.
“When do you think Daddy will be finished with that special, secret job he has?”
Not soon enough. “Soon, or at least I hope so.”
Every time she mentions my little white lie, my blood pressure rises ten points. I wish I could blame this on someone else, but it falls one hundred percent on my shoulders. A few years ago, she started asking about her daddy, and I couldn’t look at that precious face and tell her he didn’t want her. To protect her until she was old enough to understand the situation better, I went with the fib about him being away working, which wasn’t entirely a lie.
“But hey, we’re doing good, you and me, right?”
She shrugs. “You won’t get me a pony.”
I can hardly afford to feed the two of us, let alone a huge beast. And Stella has it in her mind that a pony can live in our postage-stamp-sized backyard. The neighbors would love that.
It’s time for me to change the subject. “Hey, Aunt Diane will be here in a few days. Remember, you’re going to spend a few weeks with her.”
Stella’s eyes get as big as saucers. “Oh yeah! She promised me she’d take me to Disneyland.” All her worries about spinning wheels and finding her daddy are forgotten like a dandelion after the seeds have been blown into the breeze.
I wish I could be more like a six-year-old. I’m still kicking myself for agreeing to this little adventure with my sister. When Stella found out she could meet princesses and Mickey Mouse, the battle was more than I could handle. I mean, Stella’s puppy-dog eyes and Mickey Mouse? My sister knew I wasn’t going to win this time. I like being in control, and I lost control to Mickey Mouse of all people. Darn that rodent and his high-pitched voice.
“I know. It’s the original park. The one in California near where Aunt Diane lives. You’re going to have so much fun.” My sister fell in love with a movie producer eight years ago when he was in town filming an episode of Nashville. Within three months, they were married and living happily ever after in Los Angeles. I do my best, but sometimes, my fifty shades of green peek through. But Stella’s time away might give me time to formulate a “meet your daughter” event.
“What did you do today at work?” she asks.
She always wants to know all about work—every detail of everything. She can finish the game of Twenty Questions before breakfast every morning. Mrs. Silva says needing to know every single detail of everything is a sign of intelligence. Stella must have inherited that curiosity from her father, because she sure didn’t get it from me.
“Well, I took the day off because… I wasn’t feeling well, but yesterday was very busy. You know I work at a teaching hospital, so every year about this time, new doctors come to work at the hospital to finish their training. They’ve finished school but need to learn all the skills that go with it. Miss Shelby, Uncle Isaac, and I help to make sure they’ve had all their shots, check their cholesterol, blood pressure, stuff like that.”
She giggles as she grabs two paper plates and places taco shells on them. “Uncle Isaac’s funny.”
He hasn’t been recently.
“Do you like him?” she asks.
I stop chopping vegetables. “Of course I do. We’ve been buddies for as long as I can remember.”
“Do you want to marry him?”
“I love working with him, but he’s more like a brother to me. And he’s been a bad boy.”
“Did he spit food on somebody?”
I laugh out loud. “No, but I’m sure he’s done that at some point.”
“Kade does that sometimes in the cafeteria. It’s gross. And you can’t marry Uncle Isaac. When Daddy comes home, you’ll want to marry him.”
God love her. “We’ll see.”
We inhale the tacos and lounge on the couch, downing chips as we watch a movie. Yeti sits at our feet, expecting every third chip to be tossed his way.
The doorbell rings, causing Yeti to go ballistic. Good thing his bark is louder than his bite. He may only be a ten-pound Chihuahua, but if anyone tries to take his treat away from him, he transforms into a Doberman. He runs to the door, doing circles as if he’s rallying the troops for battle.
Stella sprints to the door. “I’ll get it.”
“No, I’ll get it. You can’t even see out of the peephole.” I scoot her out of the way and peek through to see Isaac’s eye. It’s creepy. God, I hate when he does that. At least it wasn’t his tongue this time.
As soon as I open the door, Isaac says, “Romeo, oh, Romeo. Wherefore art thou, Romeo?” He’s still dressed in his khakis and polo shirt, looking as though he came straight from work. Oops. I guess my faux illness caused him to work overtime in order to get all the data from the physician screening entered into the database. I should apologize, but he’s in the doghouse, so I don’t feel too bad. Yeti barks at Isaac as if to say he’s glad some other old dog has entered his home.
“Down, Bigfoot,” Isaac says, petting the top of Yeti’s head.
Stella bounces up and down. “Uncle Isaac. Uncle Isaac.”
He plops his messenger bag by the door and scoops her up to run through the living room with her on his back, sliding on the fake Oriental rug in front of the fireplace. Both of them scream, “Whee!”
When Isaac visits, it’s like having two children in the house. He and Stella play so well together that it’s sometimes hard to remember he’s not her age. At least Stella can hit the toilet when she goes to the bathroom, which is more than I can say for Isaac.
“What did you bring me?” Stella asks.
“Stella,” I scold. “Manners.”
“Oh, it’s okay. I would never drop by without something.” And when Isaac wants the scoop, the “something” he brings is usually really good. He backs up toward the front door and points to his messenger bag.
Stella bounces again from one foot to the other.
“I’ve got… cookies from Becca’s Bakery.” He takes out a big paper sack from his messenger bag. At least it’s not a pony.
Stella squeals again. Oh, he has brought out the big guns. If he splurged for Becca’s Bakery, I know he’s serious. He holds the bag a bit higher than Stella can reach. She jumps for it over and over but never quite gets it.
No matter how mad he made me earlier, I know he would never do anything to hurt me, not on purpose, anyway. It’s time to get him up to speed on some details I’ve kept from everyone, even my best friend.
Stella reaches for the bag. “Mommy said you spit food on somebody today.”
He cocks his head to the side. “What?”
While Isaac is distracted, I snatch the bag from him and run into the kitchen. They both chase after me and tackle me to the ground. Yeti jumps in on the action.
The three of us settle in on the couch to watch Stella’s favorite movie, Finding Nemo, and munch on cookies dunked in milk. This is my slice of heaven. I can forget all my troubles because all I ever need is right beside me on this couch.
“I love this movie,” Isaac says.
“Are you going to cry?” Stella asks.
He dabs his eyes. “Maybe.”
“Stella, he cries at movies… a lot. I thought he was going to make a scene during that romantic comedy we saw once.”
“Hey,” Isaac says. “Jonah’s mom dies, and he wants a new wife for his dad. It’s so sweet.” He snatches another tissue and dabs the tears from the corners of his eyes.
“Hey, Isaac,” Stella says. “Maybe we can go find my daddy.”
Isaac’s eyes widen.
“Okay, sweetie, time for bed.”
“Aww,” Isaac and Stella moan.
“Bed,” I say. They both head to her bedroom, heads hanging low.
“I meant Stella.”
Isaac gives her a smooch and runs back to the couch to fumble through the bag of cookies.
After I have Stella neatly tucked into her bed, I stand over Isaac, tapping my toe. “Checking up on me?”
“Well, after the whole Romeo and Juliet scene, I needed to make sure you were okay… and to apologize for laughing at you. That was evil.” He leans back on the couch, looking as if he has confessed to a triple homicide. Boy, that whole apology thing wasn’t easy for him to spit out.
I focus on anything but his face. “Apology accepted.”
“What is it with this guy?”
I groan. Isaac pats the seat cushion next to him, and in a split second, my anger toward him is gone. I need to tell him everything.
I take one more peek down the hallway toward Stella’s room. “Okay. I’ll tell you.”
He flings his shoes off and folds his legs under him. If I didn’t know any better, I would think we were having a sleepover like we did back in the day. The only things missing are pillow fights and prank calls to old boyfriends. But the night is still young.
Isaac bats the tears from his eyes. I roll mine. He’s the most emotional person I’ve ever known, and I love him for it.
He fans his face. “That’s the most romantic thing ever.”
“Oh, please. It’s cute, but romantic?”
“Why haven’t you ever told me that story before?”
I shrug. “I guess I didn’t want to relive it. It’s embarrassing.”
All of a sudden, he gasps so loudly, it sounds as if he is sucking in all the air in the room. I sneak a peek over my shoulder to make sure he hasn’t woken up Stella.
“Oh! My! God! That’s why you named her Stella.”
I nod. “It was all I had of him. I wanted her to have some connection to him, regardless of whether he wanted us or not.”
He wraps his arms around me. “That is so sweet. I remember trying to convince you to name her a dozen different names, but you were hell-bent on naming her Stella. Makes sense now. You know, I spent so much time scratching my head, trying to figure things out. You weren’t the type to sleep around. None of it made sense to me. But who am I to judge? I kept my opinions to myself and helped any way I could.”
After what feels like an eternity, I finally continue. “I know it all sounds crazy, but I really liked him. I had only known him a few hours, but I felt like I had known him my whole life. He was different. He made me feel something I had never felt before.”
“That’s not crazy. That’s love.”
I snort. “I have no idea what love feels like. All I know is that seeing him again after all this time sent a shockwave of emotions back into my soul.”
“That’s good, right?”
I sigh. “I don’t know.”
Isaac puts on his shoes and takes out his keys. “But you have one thing wrong in your story. You said you really liked him.”
“I did like him.”
He wags his index finger in front of my nose. “Your eyes dance when you talk about him. You like him. Present tense.”
I rub my face with my hands. I know it’s true, but Theo chose medical school and Mallory. He flat-out didn’t want us, even after I sent him a picture of the sonogram. I thought that even if he didn’t care about me anymore, he would at least want to be in his daughter’s life. I’ve kept a copy of the “leave me alone” email all these years. It’s dog-eared and tear-stained, but I can’t throw it away. I wasn’t enough for him seven years ago, and I’m still not enough for him today, not even with a precious child as a bonus prize.
“Maybe. But it doesn’t matter how I feel.”
Isaac gives me a hug. “Would it make a difference if I told you I talked to him in the cafeteria a little while ago?”
I push him away and swat at his arm. “You didn’t.”
“Ow. It wasn’t planned, but I can tell you this—he’s really glad he found you. And… he’s not in a relationship anymore.”
Heat rushes up my neck. I need some Propranolol, stat. “Really?”
He rubs his arm where I hit him. “I know what you should do.” His eyebrows dance up and down, and he makes kissie faces at me.
I push him out the door. “Go home.”
He giggles all the way to his car. “Don’t be afraid of being happy,” he calls back at me. “You deserve it.”
Aww. I love my buddy.
“Bye, Juliet.”
I put my finger to my lips to remind him not to tell anyone. He does the same. Even though he sometimes has loose lips, I know he would never hurt me by telling something as sensitive as what I’ve confessed to him.
As he drives away, I think about the story I told him. Remembering was fun. But of course, I left out some parts—like the way Theo kept eye contact with me and kissed me as if he really loved me. He was either good at pretending, or he really felt something between us too. I remember that he wasn’t in any hurry for me to leave. He was perfectly content to sleep curled up with me. And it was the best sleep I have ever had in my life. I just wish our beginning wasn’t also our ending. I wish I had been good enough for him.
All those questions Stella was asking tonight confirm to me that she needs to know her father. Even if he didn’t think he wanted her before she was born, he won’t be able to resist her now. I deserve answers, and he deserves a second chance to know his daughter. How I’m going to do this… I have no idea. Perhaps with a friendly conversation over a hot cup of coffee and maybe a game of Truth or Dare sprinkled in.