16. Este #2
“Never did go to my prom,” Dom tells us as Reed and I both react with wide eyes.
“Kind of a once-in-a-lifetime type of event. Why wouldn’t you go?” Reed asks as she texts, smiling down at her cell phone.
“My girlfriend at the time was a non-conformist. Wasn’t interested in the idea, so we skipped it in our senior years and drove up to Dallas for a concert instead.”
“Lame.” Reed sticks out her tongue and gives Dom an exaggerated thumbs down.
“Well, we all know prom was a life-changing night for me.” I can’t help but giggle.
“Mom, how did you know Dad was The One?” Reed asks suddenly and somewhat insensitively, given that Dom’s right next to us.
I suck in air through my teeth and then sigh.
It’s time to come clean. “I didn’t. He was the guy I was dating when I got pregnant, and then every day after that was work.
Relationships always take work, and when you’re a young adult with a baby, things are even harder.
I loved your father because he was your father, and toward the end, things were good again, like they were when we were carefree teenagers.
We dated for three years before you came around, and we had some good times together. ”
“Are all relationships work or just the ones that include babies?” Reed asks, looking up from her phone for a minute.
“All relationships require a lot of trust, communication, and compromise, which can feel a bit like work. There’s sacrifice involved sometimes, and it’s when one does more sacrificing than the other that it becomes a problem because then resentment builds,” Dom tells her.
I nod, all too familiar with that kind of resentment.
“We did better when Dad was gone,” Reed admits. “He was mad a lot. Not at me, just at life, I think.”
My eyes turn to hers, and I see that this is hard for her to talk about, so I tilt my head and keep listening. Dom, to his credit, gives a nod and a “yeah,” and then quiets.
“I think Dad preferred his missions to being at home, too. It’s like he was disappointed every time he wasn’t jumping out of a helicopter or something.”
“He was an adrenaline junkie.” I take a long sip of wine, remembering the date he’d taken me on once—skydiving—something I never want to do again. I prefer my airplanes to take me somewhere fabulous, with a great view and a five-star hotel, and I see no reason to jump out of it.
“He was bored at home. I heard him tell his friend he was bummed that an assignment went to a different squadron.”
I wince because I’d heard my late husband say similar things, which made me feel like he didn’t want to be home with us.
“It sucked how Grandma and Grandpa moved up to Dallas a year after we moved here. I know Grandpa got a huge promotion, but it felt like being abandoned again. So soon after Dad.” Reed frowns.
I can’t help but lean over and hug my daughter. It’s clear she’s still struggling after losing Cole, and all I’ve done over the past three years is worry about her.
“Oh, sweetie. I’m sorry. I have a bone to pick with them about that, too. Despite knowing they had to go, it would’ve been nice to have had more of their support over the last couple of years. I hated ripping you from your friends in North Carolina to move back here.”
“You needed to be near your parents and Mallory, and I know Fort Bragg never felt like home for you after Dad was accepted into Delta Force.” How did I end up with such a thoughtful child?
“I haven’t heard the full story,” Dom interjects as he finishes his plate and sets it aside, staring at me with eager eyes.
“Well, when he joined up, he started at Fort Hood in Killeen. I resisted moving until we got married at twenty-one, and then I kicked and screamed my way to Killeen, about two and a half hours from here. We initially lived off-base in a townhouse. My parents visited every other weekend.”
“It had a big yard,” Reed remembers. “With a tire swing. And a sandbox.”
“I pushed you in that thing for probably a thousand hours.” I grin.
“Anyway, we were in Killeen until the last five years, when he was accepted into 1st SFOD-D, and then we had to move to Fort Bragg. That’s when I gave up my career as a seventh-grade history and social studies teacher.
Just couldn’t find a job in North Carolina.
I took a part-time job working with a team of local realtors, learned the basics, and then, after my husband died and we moved back here, I accepted a job as my high school bestie Mallory’s assistant.
I like it, and it’s always fun working with friendly faces all day.
We were barely here a year when my parents moved, though, which stung.
” I frown over at Reed, who nods in agreement.
“It was shitty timing, but at least we had Great Grandma and Great Grandpa then.”
I reach for her hand and squeeze it.
“Yep, pretty shitty,” I agree. “I wasn’t expecting them to get in a fiery wreck, die together, and leave me everything. To this day, I think they changed their wills and insurance policies when Mom and Dad moved to punish them for leaving us.”
“I didn’t realize that. Do you think your parents were mad about that?” Dom asks.
“Well, they weren’t happy,” I confess. “They wanted me to gift them the Holland Creek property, and I refused. I was still thinking we could move on to it, sell this house eventually, and hopefully make a few bucks. With some lucky breaks at work and Mallory’s generosity, I was able to keep it.”
“And now you’re selling half to Dom so that veterans can have a community.” Reed smiles in approval.
“I’m still so grateful for that. We’ve got a lot of work going on now, and the fence is up!
We have six tiny houses ready, and we have plenty of applicants; I’m about to choose the first three.
I'm just waiting for the background checks to come back clear. I don’t want any felons or anyone with active psychosis,” Dom tells us.
The money from the twelve-square-acre sale to Dom just cleared my bank account this morning, and I moved half of it over to Reed’s college fund. The rest went into my Fun Money account, which I’m saving for a rainy day that hasn’t arrived yet.
Perhaps a few rainy days, because after everything I’ve been through, I figure I deserve it.
Hell, I’ve worked my ass off saving every dollar I can to make sure Reed has the future I wanted before I got pregnant with her. To wind up wherever makes her happy, even if that means she’s a couple of states away in Florida.
“Good idea,” I tell him belatedly, putting my bank account out of mind. “I appreciate that you want to make the community as safe as possible. Okay. Who’s ready for dessert?”