We grew up and everything was fine until high school happened. That place was like the unwanted gift that kept right on giving. She became a cheerleader and somewhere along the way, I merely drifted into the background.
Soon, she didn’t even remember my name.
At graduation, I asked her out. I was ready to be with her then, to build something with her. It was only supposed to start with lunch at the local diner.
She smashed my heart—broke me in ways I thought were irreparable and ensured the entire town knew just how disgusting I was to her.
“Dad?”
“Mmmm?” I didn’t look up from the sketches I’d been inspecting before submission.
“Christine would like you to sign some papers,” Teddy said.
I arched a brow, saved what I’d been working on and turned to look at my daughter. She’d grown into the spitting image of her mother—except she inherited my nose.
Poor child.
I smiled, kissed her forehead. “Have her come in.”
Teddy nodded and left me alone in the room again. I adjusted my clothes, shoved my hair back—I needed a haircut—and rolled the specs I had sitting out. I was dropping each in their tubes when a knock sounded at the door.
“Come in,” I called.
She stepped in and I turned and extended a hand. When she handed me the papers, I took a quick read to see what they were. It was what she did for my grandmother, sign in and out forms and the like. I signed them and handed them back, all without looking at her for any amount of time.
Once I did, I turned my back to her.
She tarried, almost as if she wanted to say something. But I didn’t want to hear any of it—I wasn’t ready and didn’t think I would ever be.
Her presence filled the space and when she exited, closing the door softly behind her, I felt the air lightened.
Exhausted, I fell into the leather chair and dragged a hand down my face.
With Teddy’s mother, I was more than happy. She’d loved me and our child beyond reason and I loved her fiercely. The only times I thought of Christine over the years was in that strained, whatever happened to, kind of way. Esme and I usually talked about Christine over wine or lazy nights after Teddy was asleep.
Esme would cuddle into my chest on one of the comfortable cushions she’d been so fond of. Sometimes I would wonder what would have happened had I noticed Esme sooner. She went to the same school and had loved me longer than I’d loved Christine.
“You’ve always been my destiny,” she’d said at our wedding. “All I had to do was be patient.”
When the cancer took her, I wondered what kind of cosmic punishment that had been.
“Dad?”
I knew what that meant. It was Teddy’s way of reminding me I had promised not to work all day. I smiled at her, sent off my designs and waited the few seconds it took to receive and saved the confirmation. I closed the laptop and followed her down the stairs.
Teddy had put together an in-house picnic for us.
I smiled.
“What’s this?” I asked, walking in and sitting at the foot of the bed facing Nan and her. She had a spread of cheese, fruits, carrots cut into bite-sized pieces. On a roll-a-way stand on the floor was a jug of grape cola for us and tea for Nan.
“You two should be going out,” Nan said. “Not staying in with an old woman.”
“Nan, we’ve discussed this,” I told her. “At least once per week, we’re spending lunch with you. We love having you around.”
She smiled. “Christine is still as beautiful as before.”
I shoved a piece of cheese atop a cracker into my mouth and crunched down on it.
“I still remember her,” Nan continued as though she hadn’t seen the look of distress I couldn’t keep off my face.
“You knew Christine before?” Teddy asked.
“Yes,” Nan replied for me. “Your father asked her out.”
“Oh!” Teddy cheered up. “What happened?”
Teddy had taken to reading those extremely annoying teenage love stories I hated so desperately. I blamed her mother.
“Nothing happened,” I replied while pouring myself a drink. “Can we not talk about it?”
“Nan?”
I rose and left the room. Whether or not I was telling the story or hearing it, suddenly it cut like a knife. I needed to find a way to get over her again.
Pulling on my coat, I pulled my gloves on and went for a walk, through the snow and the wooded area behind the ranch. The path let me out just behind the church and the cemetery where Esme was laid to rest.
“Sorry I didn’t bring you flowers, my love,” I told her, using my gloved hand to box the snow from her angel. “I know you told me never to walk out on Teddy. You also told me not to live the rest of my life alone—I seem to be breaking all my promises to you. But I needed some silence to clear my head.”
Christine
Cheap wine, cheese and enough jerk chicken to feed a small town—I sat around with Primrose Poy. Since arriving back in town, she was the only friend I had. Bailey didn’t count. Though we were friends in high school, she was now my boss.
I met Primrose my final year in high school when her parents moved into town. We hadn’t been friends long enough for Primrose to realize what a vane person I had been.
“I don’t know why you work for her anyway.” Primrose flipped some black hair over a shoulder to exposed, her beautiful face. She curled a leg under her and sipped some wine. “You have the brain to start your own business! I mean, you were a fantastic writer back in the day.”
“Yeah. Back in the day.” I shoved a piece of jerk chicken into my mouth while grabbing a jug of milk from the fridge. I had work the next day, but these nights with Primrose were the only thing I had to look forward to. “I need something to pay the bills right now. And I love what I do.”
“Yeah. All I’m saying is, you can’t work every second of every day. You need a break—especially now when you have to face your karma every day.”
“He barely looked at me, Rose.” I sighed as I set the milk on the center table and sat across from her on the floor. “It was almost like—like I was this horrible person and he couldn’t stand to look at me.”
“You were that horrible person.”
“Thanks,” I said dryly. “Thanks for that.”
Primrose exhaled loudly while setting her glass on the floor beside her butt. “Listen, from what I heard, you tore his heart out. But over the years, he moved on. He married Esme Fletcher.”
I moaned. “He married Esme? How did that happen?”
“You made it happen.”
“Huh?” I asked.
“After you embarrassed him, everyone kind of turned their backs on him,” Primrose explained. “Esme looked out for him. You know, I think she’s been in love with him since forever. But he was so wrapped up in you, he never really noticed to give her a chance. Then you got out of the way and she was able to snag her man.”
I winced.
“I know it hurts to hear. But you didn’t want him.” Primrose poured some milk in one of the plastic cups I’d brought back from LA with me. She didn’t speak again until she’d swallowed a few sips. “And they were in love. Until the cancer came.”