Authors: A. L. Jackson
Why couldn’t I just forget him? My daughter was almost five years old, but it felt like it had just been yesterday since Christian had callously forced us out of his life.
And it still hurt.
I was so angry because of the bitterness that remained, my incapacity to move on—my inability to love again.
Shaking my head, I fought against the tears.
A car horn blared, making me jump and pulling me from my daze. The lane sat open in front of me where the cars ahead had already passed through the intersection. I grimaced as I glanced in my rear-view mirror at the frustrated driver behind
me, threw my hand up in an apology I wasn’t entirely sure he would see, and accelerated to free the buildup of traffic.
I wasn’t always like this. Really, the pain only surfaced in the quiet times. I had so much love in my life. I would never discount it or take it for granted. When I was alone, though, it was impossible to ignore the heaviness in my chest—the ache.
I hated him for leaving it there.
No one should ever have that much control on someone else’s heart, and I would never allow myself to become so vulnerable again.
Arriving at the bank five minutes before nine, I drove around to the back and parked in the same spot I did every day. My aspirations of becoming an attorney had long since been forgotten. Finishing my bachelor’s degree had been nearly impossible, it taking me more than two years of night school to finish my last year. Three grueling years of law school were not something I could entertain.
I wasn’t willing to sacrifice the time with my baby girl.
Lizzie was my world.
My pregnancy had been incredibly difficult. The blow Christian had inflicted had affected me both emotionally and physically. That first night had been one of the most terrifying of my life. Every coherent thought I could form as I came in and out of consciousness focused on the possibility that I might lose my baby. It was a possibility I was sure I would not survive. My heart had been left in tatters—mangled. The love I had for the child was the last string holding me together. I could feel my body trying to reject the pregnancy while my heart and mind warred to keep it.
I’d remained hospitalized for three days before my body finally conceded to the growing child within me, but at that time, I had no idea of the fight ahead of me. I’d been ill the entire time,
my body never fully giving in to the normal phases of pregnancy. While my doctor told me morning sickness tended to last through the first twelve weeks, I’d vomited every morning until the day Lizzie came. I’d had to withdraw from classes and put my academic career on hold while I sat at home and nursed myself through those nine miserable months.
But I couldn’t complain. I had accepted it was a small price to pay to keep my child.
I’d been in love with my baby since the moment I’d learned I was pregnant, but that love couldn’t prepare me for what I felt the first time I held Lizzie in my arms.
There were no words to describe the love and the devotion that flooded me as my baby girl was placed against my stomach, her shrill cries rattling through the delivery room. As I had reached out and ran my fingers through the shock of black hair on my daughter’s head, Lizzie had immediately calmed. With that caress, I found the purpose for my life.
Releasing a heavy breath, I leaned my forehead on the steering wheel, trying to clear my mind of the conflicting emotions swirling through me. The contrast of love I had for my daughter and disdain for Christian made my head spin, knowing without Christian there would be no Lizzie. I couldn’t even begin to regret a relationship that had brought my child into the world. I could only regret the way it had ended.
I ran my hand through the front of my hair and pushed my long, blond bangs from my face before reluctantly stepping from my car. I stood on the pavement and straightened my white blouse and black slacks, bolstering myself for another day of insignificance.
It wasn’t that I particularly disliked my job. I was thankful for it. It was just hard to spend the long days of unfulfilling monotony away from my daughter.
Clicking the button on my key, my red four-door Honda Civic chirped, assuring it was secure for the day. After being hired at the bank a little more than a year before, I’d bought the car and my house, both used and a little worn, but mine nonetheless. It was something I had worked so hard for, a house in a safe neighborhood with a backyard for my daughter to play in, and it was an accomplishment of which I couldn’t help but feel proud.
I walked through the doors, immediately greeted by Selina, one of the other tellers. “Morning, Elizabeth,” she said, ever cheerful.
“Good morning.” I smiled back at the young woman who was barely more than a girl, her dark brown hair pulled back in a stylish ponytail and her makeup done to perfection around her dark chocolate eyes. Selina had an aura about her, an unmistakable zest that drew me in. I supposed it was a subconscious connection to the girl I used to be.
I took my spot two windows from Selina and plastered an over-friendly smile on my face. I spent the day fielding the constant influx of customers, focusing only on the simple tasks in front of me and the ticking clock, counting the hours until I was back with my Lizzie.
As soon as the clock hit five, I was on my feet and heading out the door, anxious to make it home before Lizzie and my cousin Natalie.
Flipping open my phone, I read a text from Natalie that said she was going to the grocery store and would be home by five thirty.
I freed a long sigh of appreciation as I buckled myself into the seat of my car. Natalie was a lifesaver. I honestly didn’t know what I would do without her and Matthew.
Next to Lizzie, they were the two most important people in my life.
Matthew had been the one person I could rely on while I was ill with my pregnancy. From the moment I woke up in the hospital to the moment I gave birth, he had been there. I almost felt embarrassed to remember that we’d once been lovers, though it was a relationship that was never meant to be.
It wasn’t that either of us found the other unattractive. It was just that Matthew had felt no spark in our touch, and my heart still belonged to the one who had destroyed it.
When we’d moved to San Diego when Lizzie was five months old to be close to my mom and the rest of my family, I’d known the precarious relationship Matthew and I shared couldn’t last. I’d just had no idea it would end so soon.
It was here he met Natalie.
When they’d eloped to Las Vegas seven months later, my family, especially my mother, had been so angry with them and couldn’t understand why I
wasn’t
. What they
didn’t
understand was how much Matthew had already sacrificed for me, for Lizzie, and there was no chance I’d stand in the way of his happiness.
At the time, Natalie had just turned eighteen, but it didn’t take long for me to see the real connection they had. Natalie may have been young and naïve, but it didn’t minimize the love she felt for Matthew. And Matthew—he adored her.
The four of us had become a sort of pseudo-family, but a family nonetheless. The couple lived less than five minutes from Lizzie and me, partaking in the daily care of the little girl as if she were their own. I knew Matthew and Natalie loved the role they served in our lives, though I couldn’t help but feel indebted to them.
Who wouldn’t?
It was selflessness in its purest form.
Just before five thirty, I pulled into the garage of my small two-story house, the white paint fresh and lawn trimmed from the countless hours of effort Matthew had put into its care. The moment we’d pulled up in front with the realtor, I’d known that this cozy house would become our home. I’d immediately fallen in love with the flowering myrtle trees flanking each side and the two citrus trees out back.
I gathered my things, and just as I stepped from the car, Natalie pulled up in her small white sedan and parked on the street.
My face lit up in a smile. It was here I found my joy. It was a joy that erased every painful memory of the day. Here I couldn’t remember the ache in my heart or the sadness that washed over me in the quiet of my car. Here I was happy.
I smiled and waved as I walked down the driveway.
Before I could reach them, the back passenger door flew open and Lizzie shot out, throwing her arms up in the air. The child’s face glowed happiness as she ran barefoot up the drive, her blue eyes flashing excitement.
“Mommy!”
I scooped her up. “Hi, baby girl.” I clung to her, kissing the soft apple of her cheek, finding relief in the weight of my daughter in my arms.
Being away from her for so long during the day was nearly unbearable.
Lizzie snuggled in closer, her tiny fingers gripping the back of my neck through my hair. Drawing her nearer, I breathed her in.
I was certain no one had ever loved a child as much as I loved mine.
I pulled back to see my daughter’s perfect face, my voice soft as I spoke. “How was your day, sweetheart?”
“Oh, Momma, I had so much fun.” Lizzie leaned away, pulling her arms from my neck so she could express her story with her hands. “It was
B
day at school today, and then we sang a bee song ‘cause it starts with the letter
B
and . . .”
I grinned at my daughter, my face bursting with the force of my smile. The sound of her voice made my heart soar, my chest filled with affection as Lizzie relayed a play-by-play of her day. I was in awe of how smart my daughter was, how intuitive, how perceptive she was of the things around her.
“Then we colored pictures, and I made one for you and Auntie Natalie and Uncle Maffew,” Lizzie prattled on with excitement and distinct preschooler pride.
“That sounds like so much fun, Lizzie. I can’t wait to see the pictures you colored,” I cooed at my child. “So, were you a good girl for Auntie Natalie after she picked you up today?”
As if I really needed to ask—I couldn’t remember a time when my daughter had misbehaved.
“Mommy”—Lizzie’s voice turned very grown up, and I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing—“I’m always a good girl.”
“Yes you are, aren’t you?” I sang as I nuzzled my nose into Lizzie’s neck, causing her to squeal with laughter.
“Stop, Mommy! No tickles!”
Laughing, I leaned over to place my daughter on the ground, but not before Lizzie looked up to me, her face in near wonder. “And I saw a nice man today, Momma.”
Confused, I looked to Natalie for clarification, wondering what on earth my daughter was talking about. Natalie grimaced with Lizzie’s words, but mouthed
later
, obviously wishing not to discuss it in front of her.
It left me feeling uneasy, but I shrugged it off, assuming it couldn’t have been anything major since I hadn’t received a call from Natalie.
Natalie and I unloaded the groceries from the car with Lizzie in tow.
I followed them into the living room of my modest house, a feeling of satisfaction coming over me. I still was unable to believe I finally had my own place. The comfortable brown suede couch sat in the middle of the room, facing the television, the beige carpet in between littered with toys and pillows. This was by far my favorite room. It was a rare day Lizzie and I weren’t on the floor, playing toys or sitting on the couch reading a book.
Lizzie skipped along in front of us on the pathway between the back of the couch and the stairs on the way to the kitchen, humming the song she’d learned earlier in the day.
As we piled grocery bags atop the faux-granite countertops, I couldn’t help but notice the way my cousin’s hands trembled, her jaw held rigid. It was completely out of character for someone so laid-back.
Digging blindly into a bag, I started putting away groceries while I observed Natalie, finally becoming too impatient to wait for her to offer an explanation.
“What’s going on with you today?” I demanded, my tone low and concerned.
Natalie glanced over at Lizzie, who sat at the kitchen table coloring, before she looked back at me.
“There was just this guy who freaked me out at the grocery store.” She tried to play it off with a shrug, but the grimace on her face revealed her alarm; her voice was little more than a whisper as she attempted to hide our conversation from Lizzie.
With my brow creased and head tilted to the side, I tried to read on her face. “What do you mean?”
“He just . . .”—Natalie squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head as if it were painful for her to recall the event—“. . . kept staring at Lizzie.” She opened her eyes, meeting mine. “The most disturbing part of it was Lizzie seemed to be just as interested in him as he was with her . . . it was just . . . so . . .
weird
.” Natalie hesitated before she settled on the word as if she were unable to find another way to describe the interaction.
My daughter’s words from earlier came to me, the ones about seeing a nice man. I was going to need to have another talk with her later about the dangers of talking to strangers. Right then, though, I was after details, unsure if this was really something I needed to be concerned about. While Natalie’s intentions were always good, she had the tendency to exaggerate.
“What did he do that made you so uncomfortable?”
“Well . . .” Natalie breathed heavily through her nose, turned back to the groceries, and resumed the task as she spoke. “I was picking out apples, and when I turned around, they were just staring at each other.”
That sounded
weird
, just like Natalie had said. Chewing on my lip, I tried to keep the panic welling up in me at bay, focusing on listening to Natalie while I set two boxes of Lizzie’s favorite cereal into the cupboard.
“Then it was like every aisle I went down, he was there, and I was sure he already had things from those aisles in his cart. It
really
felt like he was following us. The scary thing was Lizzie kept asking me to slow down so she could talk to him. When I asked her if she knew him, she said she thought so, but when I asked from where, she said she didn’t know.”
My skin prickled with goose bumps as chills ran down my spine. I looked over my shoulder, just needing to confirm that my daughter was there. Lizzie was still coloring and quietly humming to herself—safe. I said a silent prayer of thanks, before turning back to the bags in front of me.