Gravity, p.6
Gravity, page 6
“Daddy.” The term of endearment falls off my tongue. I’ve never used it with him or at least not that I remember.
“I’m so sorry, Gracie. So sorry.” He continues to rock me back and forth in his arms.
I’m not sure when or even how, but at some point I wake up in my bed at my apartment. My father sits at the end of the bed with concerned eyes and an aged face.
“Was that a nasty nightmare?” I ask with a thick, dry tongue.
He hands me a bottle of water. “No, baby. I’m sorry it wasn’t.”
Once the water hits the back of my throat all of my reality comes crashing right back in. My stomach lurches. I think about running for the bathroom, but why? I have nothing left. I sit up in the bed and puke all over the sterile comforter. Tears mix in and I find myself not being able to catch my breath again.
My father’s big hands pick me up from the vomit soaked bed and cradle me to his chest. I’m not sure how long he holds me because my world goes black.
13
Gracie
I clutch to the baby bump protruding from the sleek black dress. There’s no way I can walk into the funeral. Everyone will know our secret. Amos wanted to tell his momma. How in the hell can I bring more pain to this family right now? I don’t want the focus on me today.
I stay near my rental car at the pond on the ranch. It gives me the perfect view of the grassy hill where they’re laying Amos to rest. The sea of people walking up to the set of chairs is overwhelming. The cloud of grief floating over the ranch is heartbreaking.
Soon the sound of the Pastor’s and Molly’s voice floats down to the pond. I can’t make out the words, so I cry. I haven’t been able to stop the tears since my father broke the news to me. I fall to the ground in a huddled mess listening to the chatter from the service.
It takes long hours before everyone finally leaves. I slowly walk up to the hill making sure no one is near. I threw on one of Amos’s large Army hoodies to disguise my belly. God, I just wish I had the courage to come clean with his family, but he wanted to tell them. A whisper in the back of my mind keeps telling me he’s coming home and this is all just a horrible joke.
His casket still remains above the ground. The ground is prepped and ready to lower him down into it. My palms burn when they touch the cool wood on the casket. It’s finality and the evil punch line to this joke. This is real.
Right now it hurts too much to cry or even think.
“Amos,” I whisper.
There’s no reply and I feel my heart crack. The crack is already so wide with no hope of ever healing. Everything inside of me longs to crawl into the casket with him. I belong with Amos.
“I found out what we’re having.”
“Amos. Amos. Amos,” I slap the casket. “Why, baby, oh, my God, why?”
I fall to my knees with both palms placed on the casket. My forehead drops to the wood, I close my eyes, and lose hope of any chance at a future.
“I’ll love you forever, Amos Marshall.”
When the gloomy rain clouds open, I finally lift myself from the ground, and turn back to the pond. Each step feels like a nasty betrayal to Amos. It becomes harder and nearly impossible to keep going. It’s final and I’m walking away from him forever. Fuck, it hurts.
I glance over to the barn and see his grandpa standing in the open doorway. He nods to me and offers a weak smile. Instinctively, my hands go to my stomach and I pray to God it’s hidden well enough, but something in the old man’s eyes tells me he’s wise beyond his years.
Everything hurts right now. My head is a mess and the only thing I can hear is Amos’s sweet voice about wanting to tell his momma. I try to argue back with him about common-sense, but with the look on his face and excitement about wanting to tell his momma, Amos will always win out.
14
Gracie
Four and Half Years Later
“Momma, are we almost there?” Little feet kick into the back of my seat, again.
I have to bite down on my bottom lip to keep my damn cool. “One hour and we will be at our new home, sugar.”
“How long is that, momma?”
“Two Sponge Bobs.”
“Can we stop for some chicken nuggets?”
“Yes.”
I’m thankful when I see little fingers tapping on an iPad. I can only hope the magic of the tablet will entertain the little mind for a bit longer. I have no idea what I was thinking when I decided to drive across America instead of fly. We’ve seen some cool sights and shared many laughs, but these last three hours have dry humped my last nerve.
My little baby has been a champ, but there’s only so much a grown adult can cope with in a tiny car driving endless hours. I’ve finally decided to go back to the big sky country. It’s time and I can only hope I have enough courage to follow through with it.
I’ve bought a house thirty minutes away from Beartooth Ranch with the help of my father. I wouldn’t say he’s transformed into a loving dad, but things definitely changed the night he told me Amos was killed. He’s had no interest in being a grandpa and is still immersed in his career. It’s the way he ticks. My mother has never wanted to have anything to do with me after I gave birth. She held onto the hope right up until the last minute that I’d give the baby up.
When my little bundle of joy came screaming into the world at nine pounds and two ounces with dark curly hair and piercing blue eyes, I couldn’t comprehend how my mother still fought for adoption.
“Momma, I need to poop and want chicken nuggets.”
“Okay, baby. I see a McDonalds up ahead.”
“Yes! Not your yucky naked chicken.”
I roll my eyes and stifle a giggle while turning into McDonalds.
15
Gracie
“I don’t want to go to a new school, Mommy.”
“Honey, you’re starting kindergarten this year, so it’s really not a new school.”
“I know, but my best friends Luca and Lily won’t be there. They’re like my people, duh.”
My Juliette will never know how much that simple comment kills me. It shatters my soul to the core. It’s what my parents did to me and eventually what has led me to despise both of them. That’s not something I’d ever want for my own child since she just has one parent in this brutal world.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her the real reason we are making Montana our forever home, but no matter how many years pass, it never eases the pain. We’ve made the move and now it’s just me who has to muster up the courage to introduce Juliette to the Marshalls.
“Okay, sweetie.” I adjust the bow on the top of her head and give her a quick kiss. “I know it will be hard and scary, but I bet you’ll make three new friends by the week’s end.”
“Really, Mommy?” Her forget me not eyes sparkle back at me.
“Yes, sugar butt.”
“How much are we talking here?” She pops a little hand on her hip.
And then it’s moments like this that make me believe Amos meant forever. Juliette may resemble me with her brown hair and button nose, but she’s all her daddy.
“A chicken nugget meal.”
She reaches out her little hand to shake. “Deal, mommy.”
I shake her hand and straighten her bow once again. I’m pretty sure I’m more nervous than her with this new adventure. But in mommy mode, I mask all the fears and trepidations.
I adjust her Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles backpack on her back. Michelangelo is her favorite, which in turn means orange is also her favorite color. Juliette despises pink and it practically takes a miracle to get her into that hue. I grab her hand and lead her to the door. Her little fingers tremble wrapped around mine.
“Mommy, stop.” Juliette stops dead in her tracks. “Daddy.”
She releases my hand and whirls around to one of the pictures of Amos on an end table. Juliette bends down and kisses the frame.
“I love you, Daddy. Hope you’re there with me today. Wish me luck.”
Tears build up in my eyes, but I’ve become the master of holding them at bay. Juliette talks to her daddy all the time. I’ve shared the few videos that I have of Amos. Promptly, followed by the talk about cuss words and bikinis.
The shine of the silver ring he gave me so many years ago gains my attention. I’ve never taken it off and never will. I know he’s here with us and always has been. They say time makes it easier, but not in my book. I miss the man more and more as the days drift by.
“Let’s go, mommy.” She wraps her tiny fingers in mine.
She’s quiet on the ride to school. It’s my little chatterbox’s sign of being nervous. The girl is always talking or scheming up a new plan.
Juliette always gives me the courage to continue on in life. She’s my forever Amos gifted me. It’s our gravity that keeps us centered no matter how painful it is.
“Do you want me to walk you in?” I turn to see Juliette studying all the running bodies.
“Um…I think I’m sick.” Her eyes bulge out of her head.
I open the door and hop out quickly then grab her from the backseat.
“My tummy really hurts, Mommy.”
I bend over and scoop her up in my arms. “It’s just nerves.”
“No, Momma. I think I’m going to get the bad poops really hard.”
I stifle laughter and then kiss her cheeks. “It’s because they’re so many butterflies in there. This is exciting and you’ll be just fine, Juliette Amos Marshall.”
Juliette studies a man holding a girl her same age and it seems she’s having the same nervous issues as Juliette.
“I wish my daddy was here.”
I kiss her again. “If you’re daddy was here, he’d have you laughing your as—butt off. He’d be cracking jokes and probably flirting with your teacher.”
“What’s flirting, Momma?”
“It was daddy’s charm.”
“Will you stay with me?” She asks, wrapping her arms my neck.
“I will for as long as I can. I will also be here right when school gets out.” I reach into the front pocket of her backpack. “And look who will be here watching you all day at school.”
I hold up the orange Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle and she squeals clutching him to her chest.
“See, sweet butt, everything will be just fine.”
“Thank you, Mommy. I love you.”
I place Juliette on the ground and I’m surprised when she bolts toward the open door leading to her classroom. I stand back watching her bustle around the room. The momma bear in me wants to march right in there to make sure there are no mean girls like I dealt with in school.
Juliette finds her name on the coat hooks and hangs up her backpack. I watch her kiss Michelangelo and then tuck him safely in her bag. She then reaches up and yanks the precious bow from her hair.
“That little shit,” I whisper.
A deep chuckle floats from behind me. “They have their own minds. Don’t they?”
“Yes, and she’s all her daddy.” I turn to a tall man with dark hair and full beard.
“Strong spirits, that’s all you can ask for.”
“Yeah.” I nod, turning back to the classroom to see Juliette already talking to a group of students.
I check my watch and know I have to make it to work. I take one final glance at Juliette and send a quick prayer to God asking him to watch over the love of my life. When I turn around to walk away, I hear her squeal.
“Mommy.” She’s barreling toward me with arms wide open.
I kneel down letting her leap into my chest.
“I won the bet. I have new friends. Chicken nuggets for dinner, the good ones.”
I squeeze my eyes shut with happiness and hug my little girl. “I knew it, Juliette.”
“Okay, Mommy, I have stuff to do and things to make happen. No time for this.” She plants a kiss on my cheek and sashays off.
And that’s my Juliette, she stormed into my world and makes it entertaining every single day of my life. I turn and walk to the car. It’s not until I reach it that I realize I was very rude to the other parent trying to talk to me. Hopefully, he can excuse my bad manners and chalk it up to first day of school nerves.
Numbers and accounting was my passion until Juliette. I ended up dropping out of college and ever since my world has centered on her. I found a new love that actually entertained women my age with children. I became a licensed beautician. And wouldn’t you know I’d have a daughter who never wanted her nails painted or hair done.
The downfall to moving to a small town is that there are not many openings for a hair stylist. So, the planner in me made a detailed action plan. I’m currently waiting tables at a local diner. It’s actually depressing how much I make in tips there compared to my salary as a hair stylist. The tips are phenomenal. The Shed in this small town is the happening joint with great food.
My co-workers are kind and caring. No judgmental stares or bitterness. It’s nice to be away from a cutthroat market. I’m even slowly learning about some of the locals and what they order after a week of working.
Our neighbor lady is a sweet old grandma. She watched Juliette over the past week. They baked cookies and made crafts all week. It was surreal watching my daughter eat up the grandmotherly attention. It makes the real reason for moving here a little easier.
Letty, our neighbor, welcomed us with open arms the afternoon we moved in. Instantly sparking up a connection. She has no family around and just wishes to have company. We spent several afternoons on her porch before I felt safe leaving my Juliette with her.
“Order up.” Tripp rings the bell gaining my attention.
He’s not friendly at all, but then again isn’t prying, so I chalk that up to a win. I make sure to tip him at the end of each of my shifts for getting food up quickly and high quality at that. Seems he appreciates the respect, which only makes my job easier.
I drop off the three piping plates of breakfast food to my table and make sure they’re set to enjoy a meal. I peer over to the corner booth to see a new patron and snag a menu before making my way over to him.
When he looks up it’s the man from this morning. I’d recognize the thick beard anywhere.
“Good morning.”
“You again?”
I’m a bit shocked by his greeting until a contagious smile breaks out across his face.
“Yep, me again.”
He takes the menu from me. “Figured I’d drown the sorrow of my little girl going to kindergarten in pancakes, syrup, and bacon.”
I laugh gently at his comment. “It sucks.”
“Yes, it does.”
“You have a little girl?”
The question is dumb, but seems to fly right out of my mouth.
“Yeah, she was talking to yours before I left.”
“Awesome.” I fiddle with the pen for a second before I remember I’m at work. “Are you ready to order?”
“I’ll take the breakfast special and an extra stack of pancakes.”
I scribble down the order and then look back up to him. “Need an extra plate to split it?”
“Nope.”
“The breakfast special comes with pancakes.”
“Don’t judge. I just sent my princess off into the real world.”
“Gotcha.” I wink and take off to put in his order.
I mentally berate myself for the stupid wink. It wouldn’t be the first time I gave a guy mixed signals. It just felt refreshing to talk to someone similar in age about the same crap I’m going through.
I finish writing up a table’s check when Tripp rings the bell one more time. It’s the man’s two plates of heaping food. I squirt extra whipped cream on his pancakes this morning to help with his turmoil. Hell, he probably even deserves a dash of sprinkles if I had them.
“Here you go.” I slide each of the plates in front of him. “Would you like any hot sauce?”
“Tabasco, please.”
I return quickly and set it in front of him. “Enjoy.”
The rest of my tables are just finishing up their meals giving me a slight break in action. I check my phone to see if the school has called for any reason and of course they haven’t. I have to repeat to myself over and over again that Juliette is just fine and enjoying her day. I mean Michelangelo is watching over her after all.
I giggle to myself before taking a drink of water.
“Something funny?”
I look up to see the man from the corner booth staring at me. He startles me making the water in my hands shake for a moment.
“Sorry, do you need something?”
“Just my check please.”
“I’m sorry. Thought you were still eating.”
“Had to shovel it in. Work called.”
I scramble to total up his check and then pass it to him.
He digs in his back pocket pulling out a worn, brown leather wallet. It looks familiar, but I must really be going crazy.
As he digs around for the right amount of bills, he asks me a question. “What brought you to town?”
“How do you know I’m new in town?” Of course I decided to go on the defense.
“Lived here a while,” he replies, while picking out the bills from the wallet.
When he looks up at me his whisky colored eyes are friendly making me instantly feel like a dick for being so rude.
“Sorry, I’m just overwhelmed today.” I take the bills from him, ringing up his ticket at the register. “I moved back to be closer to some family.”
The words taste like a bitter lie when they roll off my tongue.
“Nice.”
“Yeah, my daughter’s father was raised around here.”
“I’m a transplant from California,” he replies.
“Gotcha beat. I’ve been all over, but technically a transplant from Boston.” I hand him back his change and receipt. “I’m Gracie and my daughter is Juliette Marshall.”
