Miss Fix-It

“You don’t get to use my plans as an excuse,” I scoffed. “And unless your daughter is a master manipulator, you would have been lonely.”

“She’s four. All four-year-old’s are master manipulators. If kids came with manuals, that would be the title of the chapter that talks about age four,” he said.

“There are technically manuals. They’re these wonderful, futuristic things called books.”

“None of which are geared toward a single dad,” he pointed out. “The last time I Googled something, I diagnosed Eli with a rare, deadly disease, learned that there are way too many styles of braid for any human being to master, and also found out how to get the kids out of the door by eight and have time to do my make-up.”

I paused. “I can see how that last one would be of use to you. Your mascara looks wonderful today.”

He dipped his head and laughed, his shoulders shaking.

I looked out over the trees at the end of the yard. The sun was beginning to set, and bright flecks broke in through the leaves.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Brantley shifted. “You mean another question, right? Since you just did.”

I quickly flipped him the bird, which did nothing but make him laugh again.

“Yes. I have a question.”

He nodded his head toward me, resting his arm along the back of the sofa. “Shoot.”

“Was it Ellie being Ellie, or do you get lonely by yourself?”

He opened his mouth, then stopped. Closing it again, his eyebrows drew together in a frown that made deep furrows across his forehead. “I don’t know. I used to, right after Katie died. Now, I think I’m so used to being alone, that even if I were lonely, I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.”

I looked down, playing with a loose bit of thread on my shirt. “Is it hard? Like…Do you ever think that one day you’ll wake up and it was all in your head? That she’s actually alive?”

“It’s hard, but she’s gone. There’s no changing it. I knew she was going to die, and I made peace with it before.” He tapped his fingers against the cushion. “But, no, I don’t ever wonder if it wasn’t real. Too much changed for it to never be real.”

Slowly, I nodded. “It’s weird. I used to dream that when I was a kid. That my mom hadn’t died, and one day I’d come home from school and she’d be baking cookies. I think I convinced myself she was a spy once and that’s why she wasn’t around.”

He smiled. “Grief is weird. When Katie died, I didn’t cry. I was numb, but I couldn’t show any pain. Everyone thought I was weird, and I swear, if she hadn’t been so sick, I would have been questioned over her murder.”

That made me laugh. “So, you’re a psychopath. Good to know.”

“Don’t tell anyone. I think I’m starting to make friends and I don’t want to scare everyone off.”

“Your secret is safe with me. Don’t worry.”

“Thank God. I might still have to kill you, though.” He smirked. “Do you…This is probably a really dumb question, but do you miss your mom? Like really miss her.”

“I miss her every day,” I answered softly. “It doesn’t hurt to miss her anymore, it just kinda is, you know? It’s more like it’s become a part of me and is as natural as the delight I feel when I find an extra Twizzler in the packet.”

“A Twizzler.”

“Ah, you haven’t been introduced to my obsession yet. Everyone who comes to my house has to bring me Twizzlers. You’d be surprised how steady that candy stream is.”

“Good to know.” He paused. “And thanks. For answering the question. It gives me hope that when the twins understand, maybe one day they’ll be able to cope with it.”

“Do you miss her?”

He blew out a long breath. “I don’t know, honestly. It’s a bit like the loneliness. I think if I do, I miss what she would do. Like, Ellie’s hair, or cutting their nails, or sewing up the knees of Eli’s jeans. Does that sound bad?”

“I think it makes sense.” I bent my knee and hugged it to my chest. “You miss the fact that they don’t have a mom. You miss what she represents instead of her as a person.”

He rubbed his hand down his face slowly. “God, that sounds bad.”

“I don’t think so.” I glanced away before meeting his eyes. “That’s what my dad missed, too, I think. Our lives changed so suddenly, and he had to learn to do all this stuff he’d never done. I don’t think he’d ever threaded a needle in his life until after Mom died. Over time, he reached a point where he missed what she was more than who he was. He had to learn to be a parent all over again.”