2. Caleb
Caleb
I didn’t mean to fall for the noise. But I did. It started with a small comment that piqued my interest. We were wired to listen when someone said, “Did you hear?” It was human nature.
Last night, I was sucked into romantic drama at the bar.
Max, the bar’s newest employee, was trying to date Amanda, who worked next door at the pizza joint.
She apparently had a casual fling with Nicky, the assistant manager and my friend since high school.
Max was threatened by Nicky and his now platonic friendship with Amanda.
He went on and on all night to Nicky about how Nick was “too flirty” toward Amanda.
All Nicky did was remember her standing drink order.
I was too old for infantile gossip, yet I found myself staying an hour later than normal listening. It was like a train wreck. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t pry myself away. No matter how tired I was today because of it.
But I was tired, which meant I’d be maneuvering too slowly for my kid who happened to be like the Energizer Bunny.
I was also bound to fuck up whatever hairstyle she wanted me to try to replicate.
Noelle would scold me and then remind me how all her classmates had mothers who helped do their hair in styles that were too advanced for me.
“Dad,” Noelle whisper-yelled into my bedroom.
I threw the pillow over my head and groaned. Like clockwork.
I swore she had some kind of radar for when I was starting to wake up. Truth was, I hadn’t slept well in the last nine years, but I wouldn’t change it for the world.
“He’s not here. Check the neighbors’,” I mumbled, hearing her approach my bed.
Her hands grabbed the pillow and threw it on the floor. I was exposed to the bright light beaming into the room. She was far too strong for your average nine-year-old. Which wasn’t all that surprising since I did teach her to be tough. Call it a consequence of being a solo dad to a daughter.
I always worried that I was messing her up—making her too tough, too masculine.
“Daddy, I need help with my braids for art class. Jessica is doing a Dutch braid.” I could practically hear the eye roll she gave me.
Hell, she scolded me yesterday that I fucked up her French braids. I never could get those right. My hands weren’t supposed to cross in directions I didn’t know existed.
I could make all sorts of different concoctions behind the bar. I even dabbled in home repairs, but braids were my kryptonite.
I never could have dreamt my life being like this.
In my mid-thirties, I worked long hours at a bar and spent every spare minute I could trying to be the best single parent to a daughter who was my entire world. Everything I did was for her.
Even though her mother didn’t stick around long enough to learn how she liked her grilled cheeses cut (in quarters) or find out what her favorite activity was (painting) or what her biggest fear was (clowns), I never once questioned my decision to be a single dad.
Her mother never fought for custody or even visitation rights for Noelle.
I selfishly felt lucky because ultimately, I knew that was the best decision for my kid.
But the situation made me sad for Noelle.
She was barely six months old when her mom said she “couldn’t handle it anymore. ”
“Okay, I’ll watch the YouTube tutorial again,” I promised as I rose from the bed.
“I don’t know if that will help. Can we stop by Grandma’s?” she pleaded, clutching Mr. Snuffles, her favorite stuffed elephant.
“No, Grandma is at the gallery. She had an early meeting with some people from the city. You’ll see her later for your art class,” I informed her, hugging her good morning.
My mother was a fantastic artist who owned a gallery in town. She was finally able to live out her dream after years of working mindless jobs to pay bills and support me.
“Hopefully they aren’t brats like the last people she met with.”
I cocked an eyebrow and fought the urge to laugh. The people from New York City were different from the small-town culture Noelle was used to in Grand Haven. It was hard not to see the differences when city folk visited our small town.
Grand Haven’s population was a little over three thousand.
It was the kind of place where people waved at each other even if they didn’t know your name, where the coffee shop filled up before sunrise, and where the same three older men played chess outside the general store every morning except Sunday when they went to church.
There was one bar, one diner, one pizza joint.
It was small by comparison to the city, but it was home.
“Let’s not say shit like that about city people, okay?”
“What about The Grand? Can we stop there? Even Fiona does better braids, and she says she’s practically blind.”
Fiona was my mother’s best friend and owned The Grand, the local bed-and-breakfast.
I cringed, realizing I’d cursed again. For years, we’d been trying to implement a swear jar and I was pretty sure between the regulars at the bar and myself, we’d already saved enough for Noelle’s college fund.
I was trying so hard. I guess braids weren’t my only kryptonite.
“You forgot my art supplies at home,” Noelle announced as she rifled through her backpack.
Once I put the car in park, she jumped out of my pickup truck and pranced around the sidewalk.
She had her long, brown hair—just a shade lighter than my own—twisted into two messy braids, one already starting to unravel as she skipped over to the coffee shop.
Nuts About Coffee was a spot on Main Street run by one of my mother’s best friends and pseudo aunt/grandmother to Noelle, Ms. Kenzie, and her daughter Jena.
They baked the most delicious pastries and bagels; you name it, they baked it.
And the coffee … the coffee was out of this world and exactly what I needed after staying up too late last night.
I exhaled and rubbed a hand over my scruff. “ I forgot? Pretty sure you packed your own bag this morning.”
She rolled her eyes and stressed, “You’re the dad. You’re supposed to double-check.”
I opened the door, ushering Noelle inside, and was greeted with the most amazing smell of fresh bread and other baked goods.
We took a seat at our regular table in the far-right corner. After getting situated, I leaned back in my chair and smirked. “Damn. Guess I’ll just have to quit my job at the bar and be your full-time assistant.”
She grinned. “Dad, you know Max can’t do it alone. Nicky would murder him if he was left alone with him for too long.”
Max had only been working at Bar for the past six months.
We needed extra help, especially in the summer months.
Grand Haven became a tourist destination for those trying to escape the hustle and bustle of the city and wanted a change of scenery from The Hamptons.
Grand Haven was also a steal compared to Hamptons’ prices. Definitely more bang for your buck.
I loved the business from a money standpoint but hated serving pompous assholes.
Nicky and I went to NYU together, and when I needed someone to help me with the bar, he jumped in. He was the person who introduced me to Roxy, Noelle’s mother. They both were aspiring to join Wall Street, but Nicky, like myself, preferred small-town living.
Like Noelle said, Max couldn’t do it alone. Nick could handle things if I wasn’t able to make it in for whatever reason, which happened more than I liked, because being a parent always came with surprises.
I did whatever I needed to get by. I knew I wanted to jump into running a business rather than taking classes about business.
Some might say it was naive and that I got lucky. Truth was, I was lucky.
I was lucky Nicky took me to Bar—original name, I know—on my twenty-first birthday. I was lucky that my own sperm donor left my mother but felt guilty enough to leave me a small trust fund when he died.
I was lucky to live in a small town where the banks took a chance on a young single father to buy a bar with a low interest rate.
But being lucky didn’t discount any of the hard work and sacrifices along the way.
I sacrificed relationships because it would take me away from my daughter.
I couldn’t risk her getting close to someone only for her to have the rug pulled out from under her.
I sacrificed having any real alone time because I’d rather spend my free time with my kid.
I sacrificed many of the experiences my friends had because on the rare chance I wasn’t with Noelle or at the bar, I did odd jobs around town to save extra money for Noelle’s college fund or special occasions.
Despite all of this, I didn’t have any regrets. I was blessed.
If it weren’t for my mom, Ms. Kenzie, and Fiona, taking it upon themselves to make sure I didn’t completely screw up this whole parenting thing, I might’ve fallen apart a long time ago.
A perk of small-town living was having a village.
Many parents—let alone single parents—weren’t afforded that, let alone a good one, like mine.
Jena made her way over to the table, a dish rag slung over her shoulder and flour covering her apron. “Hey, guys.” She poured coffee in the white mug in front of me. “You look exhausted, CJ,” she said.
Ms. Kenzie helped raise me when my mom was working two jobs to provide for us. Jena came along when I was ten and she was like the little sister I never had.
I sighed. “I feel exhausted.”
“And apparently, he forgot my art supplies,” Noelle added, shooting me a smirk.
Ms. Kenzie came up behind her daughter. “You look like shit, CJ.” She was never one to mince words. She handed Noelle a pastry to “test.”
“Thanks,” I muttered, taking a sip of my coffee.
“You do look raggard, Daddy,” Noelle said with her mouth full.
“It’s haggard,” Jena corrected as she walked over to the counter to help a customer.
“Noelle, dear, would you like to help me ice the cupcakes for the high school’s open house?” Ms. Kenzie offered, glancing at me.
I waved her off and Noelle ran behind the counter, complaining to Jena about her braids.
Ms. Kenzie turned to me and clicked her tongue. “You need a night off. How about Noelle comes over to my place tonight? That way you can get some rest and she can keep me company while Jena sneaks off with Keith.”
I rolled my eyes. “They’re still sneaking around?”
Ms. Kenzie nodded and looked to her daughter behind the counter. “She’ll tell me when she’s ready. Plus, I get to spend time with my other favorite girl.”
I hesitated. I hated being away from her, but I also knew I needed the help. “You sure?”
Ms. Kenzie gave me a pointed look. “I helped raise you, didn’t I? I think I can handle a nine-year-old.”
Noelle must have heard Ms. Kenzie’s booming voice because she clapped her hands together. “Sleepover at Kenzie’s!”
I heard Noelle ask Jena if she was going to be there, and Jena started stammering and trying to hide her blush behind her teal bangs. Giving up, she ushered Noelle into the kitchen.
Once they were gone, Ms. Kenzie spoke again. “You need to accept our help more often.”
I knew that was true. But I wanted to be present for as much of my child’s life as possible. She didn’t have a mom. Not one who wanted to be with her daily, anyway. I always wanted Noelle to feel important and safe. Even if that meant being lonely.
I changed the subject, knowing my dating life—or lack thereof—would be brought up in no time.
“You like Keith, right?” I pondered aloud, thinking of Jena and Keith’s not-so-secret relationship.
Keith was a good guy and he happened to be the mayor of our sleepy town.
He was actually the youngest mayor Grand Haven had ever had.
He was my age, and his parents owned a diner on the outskirts of town where we used to hang out.
“Liking him is one thing. Him dating my only child is another. You’ll see how it is. ”