Forever Right Now

“I’m right there with you,” I said. I felt a tightness around my heart unclench, and a swamp of unfamiliar, strong emotion nearly drowned me.

My daughter.

“So you going to help or what?” I said, gruffly. “Someone once told me this single-parenting shit is hard.”

“There’s that exceptional memory of yours again.” Jackson grinned, then his face fell. “You’ll have to move out, you know that, right? The other guys aren’t going to do any Three Men and a Baby. Kevin’s already panicked that we’re losing street cred.”

“I’ll find a new place.”

Jackson stared at me a few moments more, then blew air out his cheeks and laughed. He lifted the baby bag off my shoulder and slung it over his. “Christ, this is heavy. You are one crazy bastard.”

I eased a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Jax.”

“Yeah, yeah, just don’t call me at two in the morning asking me about whooping cough or… what are they called? Fontanels?”

I laughed but a gust of cold, SF wind tore it away.

I hefted the baby in my aching arms, held her tighter to me. “Come on,” I told her. “Let’s go home.”

I woke with a start when my chin touched my chest, and blinked blearily. The Muni was screeching to a stop at Duboce. I shouldered my bag and got off, and walked the block and a half to the cream-colored Victorian in which I rented the second-story flat.

I passed the first floor door where Elena Melendez lived, and shot it a small smile, then dragged my tired ass up to the second. In my place, I took off my jacket, hung it on the stand and tossed my bag under it. I veered left, straight to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee, then to the living area, to my desk by the window. The clock read 4:42 pm. Technically, I still had eighteen minutes to myself.

I slumped in the chair and closed my eyes... then opened them again.

I didn’t want those minutes, I wanted my girl.

I headed downstairs, taking them two at a time and knocked on #1. Hector, Elena’s five-year old, opened the door.

“Hey, Hector,” I said. “Can you tell your mom I’m here?”

He nodded his dark-haired head and retreated. I heard from inside, “Sawyer? Come on in, querido. She’s ready.”

I stepped inside Elena’s flat that smelled like warmth, spices, and laundry soap. It was a tad cluttered, but not messy. Homey. A family lived here. Elena—a plu

mp, forty-five year old woman with thick dark hair in a braid down her back and large, soft eyes—was bending to pick Olivia out of the playpen.

I smiled like a dope when Olivia’s little face lit up to see me. Her blue eyes were bright and clear, and her wispy dark curls framed her cheeks that were rounded with thirteen-month old baby chub.

She reached for me. “Daddy!”

Not Dada or Dah-yee, but Daddy. All syllables. My stupid heart clenched.

Elena handed her over with a soft smile, and Olivia wrapped her little arms around my neck.

“She had a good day. Ate all of her peas.”

“You did? Were you a good girl?” I kissed Olivia’s cheek and then fished in my pocket and pulled out my wallet. Olivia made a grab for it, and I gave it to her after I pulled out a check. “Thank you, Elena.”

“Always my pleasure, Sawyer,” she said, pocketing this week’s pay. She reached out and gave Olivia’s little wrist a tug. “See you Monday, little love.”

I took my wallet out of Olivia’s hands—and mouth—and shouldered the diaper bag. “Say bye-bye.”

“Bye-bye,” Olivia said.

Elena clasped her hands over her heart. “Already so smart, this one. Like her daddy.”

I smiled. “Come on, Livvie,” I said. “Let’s go home.”