12. Bristol
“Do you have time to stay for dinner?” my mom asks as I strap my daughter into her car seat. “I feel like we never get to spend time with you anymore. If I couldn’t convince you to let me keep my granddaughter occasionally, I’d never see either of you.”
A few months after I found the nerve to tell my mom I was pregnant with her first granddaughter, my father was transferred to Naval Personnel Command in Millington, TN. It’s a little over a three-hour drive from Tyson’s Creek to my parents’ front door, making it easier for us to see each other whenever we find the time, not that I find the time very often. Between raising Rebekah and the dance studio, I don’t have much free time to do anything besides sleep.
My mom comes to visit Tyson’s Creek often, sometimes spending the entire weekend spoiling both of us, but my dad is usually tied up with something at work, which suits me just fine, although my relationship with my father has gotten better over the last few years, and even more so since Rebekah was born. He’s a much better grandfather than father. He may not have a lot of time away from work to spend with her, but he makes a point of seeing her as often as he can.
I roll my eyes at my mom, then walk over and kiss her cheek before leaning down and giving my dad a peck on the forehead. “I love you both, but I really have to go.” I check my watch and move a little quicker. “We can have dinner together when you come down this weekend, okay?”
“And I can have Rebekah while you’re at class?” my mom questions as she follows me toward the door, pushing it open and holding it long enough for Rebekah and me to walk out.
“Yeah, sure. But if I get any lip from Leia, I’m blaming you.”
“Fine. Leia gets to see you both whenever she wants because you live so close to each other.” My mom pouts as she leans down to plant a kiss on Rebekah’s forehead.
“Nothing is stopping you from moving closer to Tyson’s Creek, Mom. I’m sure they’re gonna kick Dad out of the service soon.” I giggle, trying to hide the yearning in my voice.
I’d love nothing more than my mom to live closer to us, but my dad is still in the military. He promised my mom he was going to retire a few times, but something always comes up at the last minute. I’ve never asked if it was his decision or the government’s that he wasn’t allowed to retire, and if I’m being honest, I don’t know if I’d believe whatever answer he gave me. I gave up years ago on the hope he’d put my mom, Melissa, and me ahead of his career.
“I don’t know what the future holds for your father. He has a very important position at Command, but he promised he’d find more time to spend with us.”
I highly doubt that.I plaster on the same fake smile I give her every time she mentions spending time with my father. It’s not that I don’t love my father, but there’s still a part of me that doesn’t know if I can trust him with my heart. Some people are better to love from a distance, and my father is one of them. I won’t be hurt or disappointed that way.
“Both of you are welcome to come visit us in Tyson’s Creek whenever you want.”
“You know your father is busy with work.” My mom grimaces before plastering another bright smile on her face. “But I’ll get with him so we can make plans for us to come and visit together soon.”
“Sure thing, Ma.” I give her one last smile, then head toward my car and quickly lock Rebekah’s seat into the holder.
“All right, baby girl. Let’s get you home.” I glance in the rearview mirror at her smiling face before pulling out of the driveway and heading home.
I have exactly four hours to get home and in the house and make sure Rebekah is occupied before Seth calls me. He should be getting his dinner break in a few hours. Ever since they started their construction on Seaside Heights a few days ago, he’s been working nonstop. Hopefully, once he passes the civil service exam and begins working as a county deputy, the hours will be a little more regular. Who could’ve imagined that I’d worry about someone else’s schedule? I shake my head and smile as I pull my car out of my parents’ driveway and head for the freeway.
Seth and I have been spending more and more time together recently, making it even harder to continue keeping Rebekah a secret from him. At first, I told myself that it wasn’t the right time to tell him and that I needed to find the perfect opportunity, but the longer I wait, the harder it becomes to tell him. My excuses are sounding less and less plausible, even to me, and I know in my heart that the longer I wait, the more devastated Seth will be because I’ve been lying to him.
I would like to believe that this is nothing more than a mother’s instinct to protect her child from pain, but I can’t keep lying to myself, either. I’m afraid. Afraid of his reaction to finding out he has a child. Afraid of his anger at me for keeping it from him. But most of all, I’m afraid that he won’t want to have anything to do with either of us because that’ll shatter my soul into a million tiny pieces.
“I need to tell him, and soon,” I whisper into the quiet car as I try to think of anything else besides Seth, but fail miserably. I spend the next few hours imagining every probable outcome to tell him about our daughter—the good, the bad, and the indifferent. Each one plays in full color through my mind as I make my way back home.
Although I can’t think of anything besides Seth on the drive, I make it back to Tyson’s Creek in no time. As I turn left onto my street, my phone suddenly rings.
“Shit,” I mutter, worrying about Rebekah hearing me.
I thought I’d have enough time to get her into the house and be occupied with some toys before he called. Ignoring the call, I hop out of the car and unbuckle our daughter before grabbing the diaper bag. Just as I’m shutting the door, my phone rings again.
“Your daddy is persistent today,” I coo at the baby as I scurry toward the house and let myself inside.
I set Rebekah and her car seat on the coffee table, then dig through my purse for a few minutes before locating my phone. Sure enough, my screen is illuminated, notifying me of two missed calls from Seth. My phone rings for a third time, and Rebekah fusses in her seat.
“Can’t he just give me a few minutes to get situated?” I mumble to myself as I reject the call, then shoot him a text.
Bristol
Hey, I’m on the phone with my mom. Can I call you back?
Seth
Hey, beautiful. Sorry for the repeated calls, but I have news to share.
I inhale deeply, attempting to calm the thoughts running rampant through my mind. No one calls someone three times in a row if it’s not important to them. My mind races as I imagine what he could want to tell me. My guesses range from him dying of an incurable disease to him getting recalled to the Marines. The probability of either of these options happening is practically nonexistent, but there’s no telling my brain that.
Seth
I passed.
I sigh in relief as I flop down on the couch, dropping my phone beside me.
“Your daddy is trying to put me into an early grave,” I say to Rebekah, who gives me a blank stare, as if asking who or what I’m speaking about. “Let’s get you out of that seat.”
I lean forward and unbuckle the many restraints keeping her safe before pulling her out.
“You are the most beautiful girl in the world,” I say as I kiss both her cheeks and nuzzle my nose into her neck, blowing warm air across her skin, which makes her laugh.
Seth
There’s no getting rid of me now.
I read the text and smile. “As if I wanted to get rid of you.”
If it were up to me, Seth and I’d never be apart again. He has kept every promise he has ever made to me, but there is still the fear that at some point, we won’t be enough for him. That he’ll find something more important to him than being here with Rebekah and me. Not wanting to go down that rabbit hole again, I fire off a response text before shoving the phone into my pocket and striding into the kitchen with Rebekah in my arms.
Bristol
That’s amazing. Congratulations! I should be finished with my mom soon. Can I call you in an hour?
I check the time as I put Rebekah into her highchair, grab a jar of chicken and carrots from the cabinet, and empty the contents into a kid-safe bowl. As I pull a chair in front of her, my phone vibrates in my pocket. Not wanting to ignore him again, I set the bowl on the highchair tray and pull out my phone.
Seth
I need to get back to work, but I’ll call you on my way back to the house.
That’ll give me enough time to feed Rebekah, give her a bath, and maybe even put her to bed if everything goes as planned. Just as I’m about to lock my phone, another text comes through.
Seth
I miss you.
My heart melts for the millionth time. This man is the personification of what every woman wants in a partner. However, the nagging voice in the back of my head chooses this moment to remind me that everything can change at the drop of a hat, igniting the flames of my fear again, reminding me for the millionth time since I left my parents’ place that I need to figure out how to tell Seth about our daughter before it’s too late.
Bristol
I miss you, too.
I add a heart emoji and a winking face before hitting send on the text and giving Rebekah my full, undivided attention. Just as I’m turning around to grab the bowl off the tray, I feel something splatter against the side of my face.
“Are we not hungry?” I smile as I turn toward my little girl and find her hands covered in what was supposed to be her dinner.
Apparently, we are now in the playing-with-our-food stage. Rebekah giggles before shoving one of her hands almost completely into her mouth and licking it.
“How about we use a spoon like a big girl, shall we?” I quickly grab a towel out of the drawer and clean her hands before getting back to feeding her dinner.
Things seem to go smoothly for the rest of the evening, although she doesn’t eat much. She does her evening workout in the umpire while I reheat some spaghetti from dinner the night before and shove it down my throat. Thankfully, I even get to eat it while it’s still warm tonight. That’s not always the case.
After I finish eating, we share a lavender-scented bath before I get her ready for bed and give her a nightly bottle. I’m just laying her down in the travel crib in my room when my phone rings. After checking to ensure the baby monitor is on, I leave the door cracked and answer the call.
“Hey, stranger,” I chirp into the phone, my southern drawl coming out a little more than I would like.
Seth chuckles, which sends a shiver of pleasure through my body. Who could have imagined that the sound of one person’s voice would affect me this much?
“Hey, beautiful.”
“Trust me, I’m far from beautiful right now,” I mumble as I look down at my oversized sweatshirt.
“You’re always beautiful.”
I swoon internally as I drop onto the couch. “You don’t have to lay it on so thick. You’ve already got the girl.”
“Do I?” he questions.
Seth and I haven’t exactly tried to label what we’re doing. Yes, we’ve had one date and have lunch together often, but I haven’t given him any hint about how much his being here in Tyson’s Creek means to me.
“Yes, you do,” I whisper, holding my breath.
I’ve laid almost everything on the line by uttering those three simple words. Seth has shown me time and time again that he’ll do anything to ensure things work out between us. It’s time that I put in a little effort, too.
“What questions do you have for me today?” I ask as I get a little more comfortable and turn the television on low, not wanting to put too much focus on my response.
“Favorite food,” Seth responds.
I hear something rustling in the background. Ever since he came back to town, he’s been asking me random questions about myself every time we see each other. We spend hours talking about nothing at all, and it means everything to me.
“Don’t laugh. Culver’s. I love the sourdough melt with extra pickles. If I’m having a particularly bad day, I get a chocolate milkshake to dip my fries in.”
“I had Culver’s for dinner tonight. Brady grabbed us some burgers, but I drew the line at dipping my fries in my milkshake. Potatoes and chocolate are two things that just do not go together,” Seth snickers.
“You’ll be eating your words after you try it once,” I mumble into the phone as I pick up the remote and begin flicking through the channels, landing on reruns of Golden Girls. “How about you?”
He pauses for a moment. “You.”
The deep timbre of his voice sends a shiver down my spine, making my cheeks heat with embarrassment.
“Be serious.” I whimper as I rub my thighs together, attempting to gain some relief.
Seth and I haven’t spent much time alone together since the night he cooked me dinner, but not for lack of trying. We meet for lunch and get coffee before I open the studio whenever our schedules line up, but anything besides that has been hard. Between his schedule at the construction site and my work at the studio, it’s been next to impossible. But then I also have Rebekah to worry about. The girls have told me numerous that times they’d watch her whenever I asked, but they have lives and families of their own.
This would all be easier if you just told him about her.
Shut up, brain. No one asked you.
I’d love nothing more than to go back to the woman I was before our daughter was born. To be desired by someone as a woman, not as a source of nourishment and comfort. Now that Seth is back in my life, he has awakened a need I forgot I possessed.
“I am,” he insists.
“Real food,” I scold him as I push off the couch and head toward the kitchen. I need a cold drink of water and to steer the conversation back toward safer territory.
“I’m a sucker for Mrs. Thomas’s fish fry, but I do have a soft spot for Mexican food,” he replies.
“Well, you’re in luck. I make a mean chicken enchilada. Maybe if you’re a good boy, I’ll make them for you someday.” I instantly regret my word choice as Seth’s boisterous laugh rings through the phone.
“Do you really want me to be a good boy?”
“It depends on your definition of a good boy.” I fill my glass with water and gulp it down. I need to redirect this conversation. Now.
“What’s your favorite TV show?” I blurt out.
I plop back down on the couch as another episode of Golden Girls begins on the television. Memories of all the nights when Selina and I would discuss which Golden Girl we were in our teens fill my mind.
“I didn’t watch television much.” He lowers his voice slightly. “Being bounced around between foster homes didn’t leave much room for fun. I went to school, then to work when I was old enough, and then home to do my homework.”
I pull my bottom lip into my mouth and begin nibbling on it. Seth has told me about his life growing up in foster care after his parents died. My heart aches for him, realizing all the things I had in life and took for granted. I spent most of my teens angry at my dad for always being gone, resenting the time the military kept us apart, but mostly I missed him. I can’t imagine what it would be like if my parents were gone and I knew they were never coming back.
“I can hear the wheels turning in your head, Bri,” Seth chuckles.
“Sorry. Sometimes my mind wanders when I’m tired,” I retort quickly, not wanting to bring up anything too heavy.
We continue to ask each other questions like this for a while longer. Nothing too heavy or personal, but the usual “getting to know you” first-date questions, even though we both know we’ve progressed so much further than that.
“What’s your favorite flower?” he asks, breaking a short silence.
“Are you planning on screwing up sometime soon?” I joke, but the idea of Seth bringing me a bouquet of daisies and sunflowers on my birthday, or even for no reason at all, sounds appealing.
“No, but you never know. I need to be prepared just in case.” He laughs nervously.
“Sunflowers and daisies are my favorite. Roses are useless. Never bring me those unless you plan on being in the doghouse for a few months. They’re beyond pretentious.”
“Duly noted.”
“Can I ask you a personal question?” he asks as I turn off the television. Something in his tone tells me this is going to be a serious question.
“Shoot.”
“Do you want kids?”
I gasp in shock. Who would have thought Seth would touch on the one subject I’ve been trying to find the right time to bring up since he came back to town? This will be the perfect opportunity to have some of my questions answered. If Seth tells me he doesn’t want a family or children of his own, I may have to rethink how our relationship will look moving forward, but I still need to tell him about our daughter. He has a right to know, and this might be the perfect chance for me to tell him.
However, instead of blurting out that he already has a daughter, I settle for telling him the truth, or at least part of it. “Sure. I always saw myself having children and settling down. I mean, I live in a small town. The white picket fence and two-point-five kids with a dog were drilled into my mind from birth.” I giggle nervously before asking the one question I need to know the answer to more than anything. “Do you?”
“Do I what?” Seth clears his throat. “I mean, my parents died when I was eight. I spent the next ten years in foster care, bouncing around from house to house, until I joined the Marines. Most people would say children were out of the question, but I could imagine having little copies of you running around the house.”
My cheeks instantly heat as I think of our daughter, who’s lying in a crib down the hall. Her bright red hair and hazel eyes are a little combination of both of us. The doctor swore her eyes would darken to more of a brown color, but they were wrong. Although her red hair and her hazel-colored eyes were uncommon, I knew deep down that they’d stay the same. A one-of-a-kind creation from a one-of-a-kind relationship like ours.
“So, you imagine having kids with me?” he mumbles nervously.
It seems like we’re both stepping into unfamiliar territory now. I open and close my mouth a few times, searching for the right words. Trying to figure out how to tell him we don’t have to imagine having kids together because we already have a beautiful baby girl.
“Seth…” I begin.
I’m cut off by the sound of Rebekah’s loud wails coming through the baby monitor beside me on the end table.
“Shit!” I exclaim as I rush down the hallway, my heart in my throat.
Rebekah hardly ever cries. A few whimpers here and there when she’s hungry, but nothing like this.
“Wow. You need to turn the television down,” he teases.
Thank the Lord he came to his own conclusion about the crying baby, because that isn’t the way I planned on telling him about our little girl.
“Yeah,” I breathe as I tuck the phone under my ear with my shoulder and reach in to pick up Rebekah.
She is hot to the touch, her chubby little cheeks pink from the heat, and fat tears are rolling down her face as she cries louder. Panic begins to well in my chest at the idea of my little one being sick. Rebekah is hardly ever sick, but when she is, it’s usually something that involves a visit to the doctor and some antibiotics.
“Is everything okay?” Seth asks, his voice filled with concern.
My heart squeezes in my chest, wanting nothing more than to tell Seth what is going on, but I can’t, not right now. If I tell Seth about Rebekah right now, he could want to meet her and demand an answer that I don’t know how to give him. Right now, I need to focus on my baby girl and do everything I can to ensure she gets better.
“Yeah, but I really should get going. I hate to end our call, but I have an early day at the studio tomorrow.”
Seth yawns loudly, causing both of us to laugh. “I think you have the right idea. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, beautiful. Good night.”
“Good night, Seth,” I respond before ending the call and throwing my phone on the bed. I rush into the bathroom and grab the baby thermometer, running it across her forehead to her temple. It takes me a few passes before I’m able to get a clear reading: 101 degrees.
“Fuck!” I wail, as tears stream down my face.
Now is not the time to lose it, Bristol. You need to be there for your daughter, since no one else is. But there could be someone else.
“I know. I know,” I mutter into the room, suddenly regretting my decision even more to keep Rebekah from her father.
I’ll figure out a way to tell Seth about Rebekah soon. He deserves to be here for her, for us, to experience the good, bad, and hard parts of having a little one. Like right now, I would love nothing more than to snap my fingers and take whatever is wrong with her away, but I can’t, and it breaks my heart.
“Shhhhh, baby girl,” I whisper against the top of her head as I grab the infant’s Tylenol and a syringe out of the medicine cabinet and shove it into my pants pocket before running a washcloth under cool water. I squeeze it tightly in my right hand, hoping to get most of the water out before walking back into the room.
I lay her down on my bed as gently as possible and open her pajamas, pulling her tiny arms out of the sleeves before running the cool rag over her forehead and stomach. Now that she is lying down, I pull the medicine out of my pocket and draw out the right dosage.
I rub my finger on Rebekah’s chin, hoping to coax her into opening her mouth. “Come on, sweetheart. Mama has something that will make you feel better.”
After coaxing her for a little longer, she finally opens her mouth just enough for me to shoot the medicine inside. She coughs a little but keeps it down.
“All right, sweetie. Hopefully, you’ll feel better soon.”
For the next hour, I rock her back and forth, trying everything I can to soothe her, but it’s all to no avail. Tears roll down both of our cheeks as I wrack my brain, trying to come up with something else to make her feel better.
I text Audrey, asking her for advice, but get no response. She’s probably already asleep or busy with her family. I stare at my phone for a few moments, weighing the pros and cons of texting Seth, but decide against it. He won’t know any more than I do about this, but I’m sure we could figure it out together.
“Let’s check your temperature again,” I mumble as I lay Rebekah down and check her temperature again. The light flashes her temperature: 100.4. I sigh in relief. At least the medicine is helping a little.
“Do I need to call the doctor?” I ask my little girl, as if she could answer me.
Rebekah has never had any type of fever before. She even took to teething like a champ. No crying fits or issues sleeping since she started. All I have to do is make sure we have teething rings available for her to chew on, and we’re set.
This is a different story altogether. It’s completely uncharted territory for me as a first-time mom. I grab my phone off the bed, searching through my contacts for someone to call and ask for advice, but quickly change my mind.
“It’s just the two of us.” I sniffle as I bury my nose in my little girl’s hair.
Rebekah coughs and gags loudly before throwing up all over me and herself. “It”s okay, it”s okay, it’s okay,” I repeat like a mantra as I gently set her on the bed and rip my shirt over my head.
I should be worried about getting her spit-up all over my hair and other parts of my body, but I’m too tired to care. I pull her pajamas off her legs and wrap her in a blanket. No sense in putting her in a clean onesie if she’s just going to be spitting up for the remainder of the night.
I take a seat in the rocking chair in the opposite corner of my room and slowly rock back and forth. The rocking seems to do the trick, and she calms slightly, sniffling softly as she tries to calm down.
Fat tears roll down my cheeks as the exhaustion consumes me. The last time I looked at the clock, it was almost one in the morning. What I wouldn’t give for someone, anyone, who knows more about taking care of a child than me to appear, but there is no one I can turn to. Everyone has their own lives, and I can’t keep bothering them as I try to learn how to take care of my daughter.
I was ready to tell Seth about Rebekah earlier, but now I don’t have another choice. He should be here for the good and the bad. Her first stomachache and her first steps. I shouldn’t have taken this away from him, no matter what my reasons. I could have done any number of things to get a hold of him, but I let my fear get the best of me.
I need to do the right thing, for both mine and Rebekah’s sake. At times like this, when I’m at my wit’s end with no one to turn to, it would be nice to have someone else to rely on. Someone else that loves and cares for Rebekah as much if not more than I do, and there’s no better person to do that than her father.
And Rebekah? Well, every little girl needs her daddy.