“Ellie,” I say sweetly as if my calm, soothing voice will pull her back to me. “You don’t understand, baby. I can’t do this. Life. I can’t do this without you.” My words in the form of a plea go unheard, unanswered, ignored by God, Ellie, and anyone and anything that was ever supposed to support me. This isn’t fair.This isn’t fair. “Ellie, I need you. We need you. Please, come back.”
CHAPTER TWO
I’m pacing incircles around the living room, desperately searching for a neon blue backpack. How can something that bright just disappear? God, she’s going to be late for her first day of kindergarten and I will have already failed before the school year begins. “Olive?” I call out. “Have you seen your backpack?”
I yank up the cushions on the couch, knowing the bag can’t exactly fit under here but I’m running out of places to look. I’m freaking out right now. That’s what this is. I’m definitely freaking out because I’m not ready to send her to school. She’s too young. She’s not ready. She won’t want to let go of me. I should just homeschool her—maybe that would be best, but then I’d have to quit working with AJ, and he’d kill me if I did that. Not to mention that Olive and I would both starve.
“Daddy, what are you doing?” Olive asks, in her squeaky little voice. I turn around, dropping the cushion down. “Did you lose something?” She walks toward me with her backpack firmly perched on her shoulders, lunch bag in hand and wearing a smile that tells me she’s not nervous to leave me. It’s me who doesn’t want to let go ofher, not the other way around. Having her with me for these last five years has been my lifeline...my way to keep a piece of Ellie near me. My heart aches for a brief minute as I stare through her, imagining what this moment would be like if Ellie were here. Would Ellie be crying? Probably, but she’d also be excited for Olive, and she would help me be brave as we send our little girl off to her first day of kindergarten. At least I know she would approve of the eye-blinding blue backpack. It was her favorite color, too.
“Nope, I didn’t lose anything. I was just straightening up.”
“No,” she croons with a toothy smile. “You were looking for my backpack.” I swear there is a twenty-year-old living inside of my five-year-old. “Don’t worry, Daddy. I’m going to be okay today. And so will you. I made you lunch and breakfast. And I plugged your phone into the charger because the battery bar turned red.”
I kneel down and open my arms up, waiting for her to run to me like she always does. “You made me lunch and breakfast?” I ask as I tighten my arms around her tiny body.
“Yup. I made you cereal for breakfast and bread and mayonnaise for lunch. Now you won’t have to make lunch by yourself today.” A tiny breath escapes her lips and her eyes look at me with as much seriousness as a five-year-old could muster up. “You told me yesterday that you would be sad not having anyone to help you make lunch while I’m at school, and I didn’t want you to be sad.”
My chest tightens a little more. “You are the most thoughtful little girl in the world, Olive. Thank you for making me meals.” Her wet lips press against my cheek and her hands squeeze against my back.
“We’re going to miss the bus,” she says. I look up at the clock, seeing we have five minutes to get to the bus stop down the street, so I scoop her up and head out the door. I don’t want to let her go. I’ve kept her by my side for five years. And to show for that, she’s probably the only five-year-old who could install a carpet with her eyes closed. Every day has been a “bring-your-child-to-work day” and I’ve loved it. Today will be the first job without her next to me in five years.
By the time we reach the end of the driveway, AJ is pulling in. His window is down and his head is craned out of the window. “Is my big girl finally going to school today?” he shouts over.
“Uncle AJ!” she shouts, wriggling herself free from my arms so she can run to his truck. “I’m going to school!”
AJ throws the truck into park, hops out and swings his arms around Olive. It’s seconds before she’s sitting on his shoulders. “You are going to have the best day, little girl.” He tickles her senselessly until she’s hanging upside down and completely out of breath.
“We’re going to miss the bus,” I tell him.
“Well, Mr. Serious Pants said I have to put you down,” AJ says in a mockingly deep voice. “Can’t miss the bus on your first day, Ollie-Lolly.” With one last giggle, Olive runs back to my side, slipping her hand into mine.
“Come’on, Daddy,” she drawls.
“I’ll be back in twenty,” I tell AJ.
“I’m heading right over to the job site. Just meet me over there when you’re ready,” AJ says. I give him a quick nod and continue toward the bus stop. “Hey, Hunt.”
I look back at AJ as we continue to walk. “Yeah?”
“She’s going to be great, bro. Don’t worry.” AJ is a man of many words, but most of them are filled with humor, sarcasm, or things I don’t need to hear. It makes up for my serious disposition, but when he says something from the heart, it means a lot.
“Thank you,” I say, waving over my head.
“I’m excited,” Olive says as we approach the bus stop.
“I’m going to miss you today,” I tell her, taking in the scene of a half dozen moms and what must be ten kids.What if the bus driver doesn’t see her get on?
“It’s just kindergarten,” she whispers into my ear.
I chuckle against her cheek and place her down. She’s quick to take off, throwing her backpack to the ground so she can join the other kids running across the grassy area. She doesn’t know any of them but she doesn’t care. Olive makes friends with everyone she meets, just like Ellie did. I could learn a thing or two from my intelligent daughter.
“Hi there,” one of the moms says as she approaches me with her hand outstretched. “Are you new to the neighborhood?”
I clear my throat from what feels like a gummy substance lodged between my tongue and tonsils.Keep your shit together, Hunter.“Yeah, ah, Olive and I just moved in a few weeks ago,” I manage to get out while shaking her hand—her warm, inviting, and surprisingly strong hand.
“Oh, you’re the new neighbors in the yellow house?” she says, pointing down in the direction we walked from. I don’t look to where she’s pointing, though, since the wind blowing through her long, auburn hair seems to have caught my attention.
“Yes, Ma’am, we are.”Ma’am? Really? Smooth.
