1
Colt
PRESENT DAY
“Daddy, stop moving.” Nellie drags the y out in a long and drawn-out process. We’re sitting at the kitchen table. She’s got a nail design kit out, part of her birthday present she received from one of my mechanics yesterday. Every year, we celebrate Nellie’s day on her actual birthday and let her make the choice of what she’d like to do that year. A party, an experience, or like tonight, when we go to my parents’ house, where my sister will be, and Nellie will gorge on cake and ice cream.
Never mind the other food we’ll be inundated with—steak, potatoes, corn on the cob, and salad are on the menu tonight. Nellie will eat two ears of corn, declare she’s full and is saving room for dessert. It’s the one time of year I don’t push her to eat a little bit more food before the sweets. Well, her birthday and Christmas. What’s the harm in having a couple of days a year when you get what you want for breakfast, lunch, and dinner?
“Sorry. If I don’t answer Aunt Kara, she’ll keep texting me until I respond.” My sister is what I call a repeat offender. She’ll hound you in any form necessary until you answer whatever question or statement she sends. It doesn’t matter if it’s a meme. One time, I gave her the universal thumbs-up. My sister calledme a grandpa, or more accurately, she said I text like our dad. Through it all, she still kept going on about the subject until I gave her the response she wanted.
“It’s your hands.” Nellie shrugs, and I have a hard time sitting still with the chuckle threatening to leave my body. She may be seven as of today, but there’s no doubt about it—she’s older in soul than ever. A lot of that has to do with being surrounded by my parents and sister.
“By next week, you’ll be doing them again.” She looks at me with a sharpness, an attempt to convey her annoyance at what Nellie loves to do, which is our nails.
“Almost done. Once they’re dry, we can leave.” Her tongue slides out to moisten her upper lip and stays in place as she focuses on what she’s doing. I don’t mind that my hands will be a mess. It’s not like what she’s doing will last longer than a day, and after working with motor oil and grease, they’re shot to shit anyway.
“And what if that was Aunt Kara on the phone, changing plans?” Nellie plops the brush back in the container after finishing her stroke on my pinky finger. My daughter went with a bright pink alternating with a pastel purple. I told my girl to go for it today. All the other times, it’s been black, dark green, or anything else that will semi blend in when dealing with customers. Many give me weird expressions, but I don’t much care what they think, though having to explain it more than once a day gets fucking exhausting.
“Aunt Kara would never!” My sister would get a kick out of this right about now. She’d follow it up with talking about audacity this or audacity that, then Nellie would pick up on the word and do something similar. While my daughter is a pretty even mixture of her mother and me, her personality is a replica of Kara’s.
“Fine, you’re right. She didn’t say that. She did say if we don’t hurry up, all the cake will be eaten.” Our family is chompin’ at the bit to celebrate my girl. Good came from bad, and while today is a day of remembrance, having Nellie helps us weather the storm.
“Can I have your phone? I need to call her.” Have I mentioned she also carries on a conversation like a full-blown adult?
“Where’s your tablet?” I allow her free rein when it comes to calls and text messages. All the other shit, I had Jude, a buddy of mine, lock down.
“I don’t know. It’s probably dead.” Nellie puts the nail polish back in the container with the others, along with the nail clippers and emery board, waiting for my answer.”
“It’s all yours. Make sure you charge your tablet or at least bring the charger with you this time.” I watch as her dark, nearly jet-black hair falls in sheets, some in her face and some over her shoulder. My mom picks the battle of trying to get it out of Nellie’s face, which lasts all of two seconds before it’s covering her eyes again. That’s a battle I’m not fighting. Nellie girl showers, washes her hair, reluctantly eats her vegetables, and has no problem getting a later bedtime out of me. The battle I choose to fight is her brushing and flossing her teeth. The girl has a bad habit of forgetting, and one whiff of her dragon breath has me pointing in the direction of the bathroom.
“I think we should get a house phone like Mimi and Poppy.” She brings the phone closer to her, taps in the six-digit code, pulls up Kara’s contact, and foregoes bringing it to her ear. She puts it on speaker phone, and while I should be doing anything else besides sitting on my ass, there’s something about watching my daughter interact with her aunt that keeps me planted in my seat.
“Aunt Kara, don’t eat the cake without the birthday girl,” Nellie greets her aunt.
“Nellie Bellie, when are you getting here? You know I can’t resist a sweet treat like ice cream cake.” Nellie’s eyes light up. She’s had the same dessert for two years in a row now, asked for it this year, too, the one thing we would never do is tell her no on her birthday.
“You got it!” She wiggles in the chair, hands going up in the air, and I’m more than ready to save the day if she so much as teeters off the edge. My girl can be kind of clumsy when it comes to dancing, especially when there are circles involved.
“Of course, we did, so how about you hurry up and get your cute self over here so we can chow down?” It’s nearly noon. I’m surprised Kara has held back this long.
“We’re about to leave now. Except we have to stop and visit Mommy.” I clock it the moment it happens: her voice quivers, she blinks rapidly, and her breathing intensifies. The promise I kept the night Brooke’s life ended and Nellie’s began is eating at my little girl. We talk about her mom, and there’s even a photo of her on Nellie’s nightstand, but the older she becomes, the more she feels like she's not a part of it. Her feelings intensify, and not for the first time, I am second-guessing taking her to the place where her mom is laid to rest.
“Yeah, I know Nellie Bellie. I went by earlier today myself. The flowers Mimi and Poppy put out are beautiful, and there was even a butterfly floating around.” That turns Nellie’s frown into a smile. Butterflies were Brooke’s favorite and are now our daughter's. I’m pretty sure she knows every species known to man. The second favorite on her list is rolly pollies. Anytime she finds the crustaceans, they provide endless hours of entertainment. Nellie watches them, holds them in her hand, and the only time her tablet is near is when one of us is suckered into retrieving it for her to take as many pictures as possible.
“Really? Think they’ll be there when we go?” Nellie slides off the chair, carrying my phone with her through the apartment. I’ve thought about relocating us to a house near my parents’ place, then thought better of it. I can walk Nellie to school from here. If I have to work late, it’s easier on her to be in her own bed than to shuffle her from my parents’ or my sister’s place.
“I hope they are. You can tell me all about it when you finally get to Mimi and Poppy’s.” I don’t hear the rest of their conversation when Nellie disappears into her bedroom. Since she’s abandoned ship, I take the opportunity to pick up after our nail session, noticing my own nails have more polish on my skin than the nails themselves.
I clean up the kitchen from breakfast, load the dishwasher, wipe down the counter, then make a cup of coffee to take with me. The weather is still on the colder side with a fuck ton of humidity. Which reminds me to make Nellie some hot chocolate to warm her up after we visit with Brooke.
“Come on, Daddy, it’s time to hit the road.” Nellie comes back as I’m pouring the contents into a to-go cup for her and a coffee mug for myself. She’s in a puffy jacket that’s fur-lined along the hood, a sweater peeping through from her haphazardly zipping the material up, jeans that have Kara written all over them, bedazzled and embroidered with flowers, and then there are her boots: hot pink, sparkly, and worn in more ways than one. She has a new pair to open up today.
“Lead the way, birthday girl.” I grab the two cups while she spins on her heel, hair whirling around, and we head for the door, even with the sinking feeling in my gut that today, both of us might end in tears of some sort. Nellie because her mom is gone, and it doesn’t matter how you slice it, it’s hard being raised by a single dad, even with family. Seeing my little girl upset tears me up something deep, and there’s not a single fucking thing I can do to keep the pain at bay.
2
Colt
