Daddy Next Door

by Kylie Walker

  Will spread his hands, looking aghast, flustered. He didn’t speak for a long time as if I’d slapped him. Perhaps I had. My memory was growing blank, leaving me not entirely certain of what I’d said, or if I’d argued, or if I’d even been convincing. But after a long moment of silence, Will nodded. “Thank you for this information. Really. I don’t think I could have made a decision without you.”

  We shook hands as we rose, digging our feet out of the sticky floor. He led me back to the bug project, where I collected my silver beetles, clutching the framed pictures in my arms. As I did, Marnie lashed forward, pointing. “You should have never gotten involved with this. Don’t you know how to mind your own business? She isn’t your daughter. You’re in this for his money. He was nothing when I met him. And now, I should have known. You sniveling gold-diggers are always around the corner, hunting for fresh blood…”

  “That’s enough, Marnie,” Tyler said, cutting between us.

  The silence was sharp, ringing in my ears. I felt glued to the floor, waiting for someone to tell me to leave. Marnie turned to Will, a rodent-like look in her eyes. Will looked flustered. After a long, even gasp of air, he found words.

  “Tyler,” he said, addressing him and ignoring Marnie, who sought his eye contact. We all waited, anticipating what would he say?

  “I think it’s best if you begin arranging Rachel’s schooling out west,” he finished. “I think that might be the first good decision I’ve made for you and Rachel since this all began. And for that, I am sorry.”

  The following few minutes were a flurry. Marnie, enraged, began to scream at Will and at Tyler—and even at Greg—saying obscenities that definitely didn’t belong in an elementary school. Other teachers, schoolchildren, and their parents eyed us all suspiciously, like a car accident that could cause them to lose control. Tyler smiled, throwing his arms around me and hugged me tightly, before running to Rachel’s classroom to tell her the news.

  The hug was too brief, just enough time for me to inhale his scent, just enough time for me to miss his arms around me. I gazed at him while Marnie and Greg continued to bicker with both Will and one another. Ducking away from the school, I made my way back to my car, where I collapsed into the driver’s seat and fell into a fit of tears.

  I knew I’d changed Rachel and Tyler’s life, forever. But I also wasn’t sure I would ever see them again or where I even fitted in the scenario.

  Chapter 22

  Tyler

  Rachel’s first day at her new school corresponded with my first day working full-time in San Francisco. Graciously, Hank let me out of after-work beers and tech chats to go pick Rachel up from her science-track elementary, where she’d actually be working with lab equipment and doing real, data analysis. Walking across the Mission, past the jangling streetcars and through the swarms of bright-colored, fresh-looking people, I felt overjoyed. We had done it. We had moved across the world, to a different life—one with greater advantages for both of us. And Marnie was officially off our backs for good.

  Moving had happened quickly. They’d needed me out here as soon as possible, and I no longer felt good about leaving Rachel at Marnie’s. Especially after everything that had happened. Will arranged the paperwork, and I collected boxes, putting our little two-bedroom colonial on the market (cutting the price nearly in half, due to the kitchen, which was being fixed in the coming weeks). Samantha had found us an apartment, just in the nick of time, and I’d sent our small things across the planes, opting to buy us newer, better furniture once we arrived.

  Quinn hadn’t been home when we left. In fact, she hadn’t been around often—seemingly throwing herself into her job and allowing us to leave without too many strings attached. Even seeing Rachel seemed too difficult. Rachel asked her a few times, over quick, takeaway meals and in between packing sessions. I’d shrugged, saying we couldn’t worry about her any longer. “We have to go our own way.”

  I dreamed of her. She swam in and out of my unconscious mind, naked, her breasts gleaming in the moonlight, as she’d been that last time we’d been together. There hadn’t been any finality to it. We hadn’t said any proper goodbyes. Perhaps I would always wonder about her. Perhaps I’d never be able to find room in my heart for another woman.

  Or perhaps, I would move on. The way people often did.

  Rachel was sitting outside her school, five minutes after the bell rang, wearing her school uniform and letting her black Sunday school shoes hang down. Her neck was craned over her schoolbook, making her look intent and focused. I felt I could see our next 10 years, almost perfectly. Her gradual ascent to the top of her class. Her college years. And all the while, me, alone, but by her side: making sure she took all the right steps.

  Could that be enough?

  “Hey, squirt,” I said, placing my hand on the top of her head and shaking her hair. “What’s up?”

  “Hey!” Jumping up, she hugged me. We began our walk toward the road, as we bantered about the things she’d learned that day. Just like our past days in the old truck, which had clunked down the road until I’d sold it before leaving for good.

  “They’re know-it-alls, Dad, and they think I’m an idiot from the east coast. But I’m showing them. And you won’t believe it. We’re covering bugs for the next three weeks. Most of the stuff I already know all about! I have to run home and call Quinn.”

  My heart quaked at the name. We hadn’t spoken about her openly, not since leaving North Carolina, and I’d thought Rachel sensed this was a topic we needed to stay away from. But her eyes sparked with excitement, waiting for my response.

  Did she know exactly what she was doing?

  “I don’t think we should call Quinn, baby,” I said, leading her down the road. “Why don’t we grab some tacos on the way home?”

  “Dad. You can’t ignore Quinn for the rest of your life,” Rachel said, her eyebrows drawing tight over her eyes. “I’m not stupid, Dad. I know what you guys meant to each other.”

  “All right. All right.” Placing my hand on her back, I guided her to the taco stand across the street. Without answering, I busied myself with the cook, asking for three al pastor for myself and three chicken for Rachel. She crossed her arms over her chest, rolling her eyes, sensing my tactic. But when we sat at the picnic table next door, with our sodas, she changed the subject. She knew I wouldn’t cooperate.

  The tacos were enough of a peace offering, at least for the moment.

  That night, I was meeting with a photographer, who wanted to do ‘new faces in San Francisco tech’ article. Rachel came along to the shoot, bringing her textbooks for a brief study session. I prepped in the side room, donning an expensive suit and sweeping my hair into dark waves. Then, for about thirty or forty minutes, the photographer positioned me in various statue-like forms. With buttons unbuttoned and my cuff links up, near my ‘chiseled jawline,’ as he put it. With my eyes penetrating, ferocious at the camera, leaving the cameraman to scowl back: “This is remarkable,” he said. “Really good.”

  Rachel had no use for it. I already sensed she wouldn’t have use for makeup or pretty things in the future and the sheer fact that I’d spent 40 minutes in front of a camera probably disgusted her. As I approached her, post-shoot, I realized she was sitting with Samantha—slim, wearing a bright pink dress, and perched alongside her, feigning interested in Rachel’s science textbooks. Rachel was speaking with spastic motions, telling her about one bug or another.

  What was she doing there?

  The moment I appeared at the table, Samantha peeked up at me, her eyes bright. She gestured toward the textbook, giving a fake grin. “Rachel here was just explaining the—something beetle? South—“

  “It’s from Brazil,” Rachel said, rolling her eyes. “I said that five times.”

  “Rachel,” I said, bringing my hands to my waist.

  “You were really remarkable out there,” Samantha offered, not bothering to pretend she was paying attention to Rachel a
ny longer. “I booked the shoot, so I knew you’d be here.”

  Her attraction to me was apparent as if you could smell it in the air. Rachel was staring at me, her mouth pressed into a frown, as she listened. Samantha continued, hunting for my approval.

  “Anyway, I know you mentioned today was Rachel’s first day. So I brought her a little present.” Reaching into her bag, she drew out a small notebook, coated with pink-lined flowers. She presented it to my daughter, whose eyes looked abrasive, with all the anger of her mother.

  As she wrapped her hands around it, I heard her scoff—slightly, quietly. Then, after a brief look from me, she responded. “Wow. Thanks.” But her words were fake, ill-formed. It was clear she wouldn’t find any use for someone like Samantha; big-breasted, bright-eyed, hopeful, without the brains of Quinn.

  Nobody would replace Quinn in Rachel’s eyes. And not in mine, either.

  After a long, awkward pause, I traced my hands through my dark hair. After giving Samantha a lukewarm smile, I suggested she come over to our place, for a ‘thank you’ drink. “You did so much for us, helping us move here. Really, it would mean everything to us if you could come.”

  When we arrived back after I’d poured two glasses of wine for Samantha and I and a soda for Rachel, I sensed the tension wouldn’t pass. Samantha was asking Rachel sterile questions about her studies, about any friends she might make in San Francisco, about what she thought of the city so far. Rachel responded with clipped sentences, making my stomach curdle. After she had sipped the rest of her fizzing pop, she lifted herself from her kitchen chair and excused herself, whipping her ponytail behind her as she left.

  “Wow,” I said, collecting her pop can and her glass. “I can’t even imagine what the teenage years are going to be like.”

  “Oh, I can tell you they’re going to be miserable years for you,” Samantha laughed. Her cheeks were crisp, red with alcohol. Her smile was sloppy and welcoming. She was falling for me, or at least very near it. Why did she want this so bad?

  “I’m sorry. I think she’s just stressed out from the move. It was a lot of change very quickly.”

  “Sure,” Samantha whispered. She rose up on her feet, joining me near the sink. I was rinsing the soda cup, over and over again, watching the water spill out below. “You know California has a drought, don’t you?” she asked.

  “Ha,” I laughed, feeling strange. “Right.” I turned off the water and turned to her, finding her lips to close to mine. “I guess I should probably look over my notes for the presentation tomorrow.”

  “Why would you do that?” Samantha cooed. “You’ve had a long day, as it is. And you’re looking too good, after that photo shoot, to waste it.”

  I sensed my dominance taking hold. I stretched out my height and set my jaw, staring down at her. If I wanted to, I could thrust her against the wall and fuck her little blonde brains out. But just thinking about it, entertaining the idea for a mere second, I knew it wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted to be alone; alone with the constant spinning thoughts in my head. Instead of kissing her, as she wanted, I led her toward the door and opened it, knocking my head toward the well-lit hallway with its beige carpet and white-washed walls.

  “I guess I’ll see you there tomorrow.”

  I didn’t watch her go.

  When I shut the door closed, I stood against it, pressing my palms flat. Rachel appeared behind me, giving a gruff sigh.

  “I don’t know why you brought her here,” she said, her voice darker than normal. “You know what she wants from you?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Rachel.”

  “Of course you do, Dad,” she said. “She wants to be your girlfriend. But Daddy, I wanted Quinn to be your girlfriend. Why did you—“ She trailed off, blinking up at me. She looked tired, finally giving into the tirade of emotions from the previous few weeks. “Why did you leave her behind?”

  “It’s more complicated than that, Rachel,” I almost shouted, locking the door with a click. I immediately regretted using that tone with my daughter.

  “It’s not more complicated. It’s as simple as anything else in science. Two cells, coming together. You match each other, down to your electrons,” she said, her voice becoming small, like a string.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Rachel.” I brought my fingers to my face, scrubbing at my skin. “Quinn needed to stay behind in Raleigh. She needed to start over, without us,” I answered, pouring myself a large glass of wine. I sensed Rachel was in the mood for an argument, that she would trash anything of reason. Despite her smarts, she saw the human world in shades of black and white, without nuance.

  Quinn and I loved each other, and we were meant to be together. If only it were as simple as that.

  “Well, that woman is certainly nothing compared to Quinn,” Rachel sniffed, sensing that I wouldn’t stand for this conversation. She drew herself back from the room, rolling her shoulders. Her lips were purple from grape soda. “And I don’t think Quinn had a life without us. And I didn’t have a life without her. Did you ever think of that?”

  She rushed from the room, tossing herself onto her bed and then slammed the door closed with a kick of her foot. With a last, haggard exhale, I guzzled a full glass of wine, knowing she was absolutely right.

  Chapter 23

  Quinn

  When they left, it nearly destroyed me. I sensed Tyler, and I had so many things left to say—that when our eyes met across the grass of our yards, we were joined in sexual yearning. But they were busy, adding box after box to his truck and then shipping them across the country. Despite telling myself that this was the proper move for Rachel, I couldn’t avoid my feelings of melancholy. I found myself out on long walks with Randy, leash in-hand, weaving in and out of the shadows of the late-afternoon sun, wondering if I had made the right decision in moving to Raleigh at all.

  My job was my only joy. As Everett grew accustomed to my skills, he gave me more responsibilities, keeping me at the lab even more often. I threw myself into it, creating new sleep studies, as I wasn’t sleeping well myself, analyzing my own behaviors and patterns in a way that aligned with the mice’s. It was a bizarre time, with many late-night episodes of past-loved television shows and many peeks out the window. And then, before I really knew it, Tyler and Rachel were gone. That part of my life was over. Workers came in and out of the house, repairing the kitchen in the wake of their absence, and Randy and I were left alone.

  Everett asked me about it after the first week. In the break room, he pointed at my rather sad-looking, plastic Tupperware, and asked, “Why haven’t you been eating?”

  I shrugged. “What do you mean? I had a snack. I not really that hungry.”

  He knocked his head back and forth, worry glowing in his eyes. “No. I know you haven’t been sleeping. You’ve been forgetful; checking your experiments twice, sometimes three times.”

  “I don’t want to make a mistake,” I told him, my voice soft. How had he seen that in me? Was he really such a diligent scientist?

  “Anyway,” Everett said, his face glowing red with embarrassment. “I don’t mean to bring it up. It’s just I know you’re still new here. And if you ever want to sit down and talk to someone about your—new adjustments—I’m here.”

  The outreach was so kind, and I felt my heart crumple beneath my ribcage. But I just shook my head, still clinging to my Tupperware. “Oh, no. I’ve just been under the weather lately. Thanks, Everett.”

  Saturday morning, I had a message in my email inbox from one Emery Hurtzill—ex-best friend. I blinked at it several times, unsure how I should proceed. Was she apologizing? Saying she wanted to be friends again? Would I even welcome that from her, or would it make my now very small life seem even smaller?

  Clicking on it, I found myself reading a short, clipped message of joy.

  “Quinn, I wanted to thank you. Because you stepped out of the way, Chris and I were able to reconcile our
differences and become a happy couple. Thank you for that. And know we will never forget you.”

  Jesus! Another punch in the stomach. Quivering, I lifted from the couch and paced my living room floor, with Randy perched in the corner, ready to spring into action the moment I made a false, playful move. As I paced, I felt large tears roll down my cheeks. I had never felt so sorry for myself. I wasn’t sure how to dig myself out of this damn hole. How to find hope again. Did I belong in Raleigh? Could I possibly belong anywhere? Or would I always be ‘the weird science girl,’ just as I had been in school?

  A moment later a dark blue car crept into the driveway, clipping over the small pothole and then rolling to a stop several inches in front of my garage door. Ducking toward the window, I peered into the sunshine. The figures in the front seat were dark, especially with the bright light bouncing back against the front window.

  But I knew, with a sudden jolt, that it was them.

  My face didn’t change. I thrust myself toward the door, yanking it open and standing, poised, with my hands on either side of my waist. I felt breathless, unsure if I was just dreaming. Rachel hopped from the car first, her ponytail bouncing in that familiar way, giving me the same eager smile she’d met me with when I’d picked her up from school.

  “Quinn!” she shrieked as if I were the most important person in her world. She threw her arms around my waist and hugged me close. Her tears matched mine. Over her head, I looked at Tyler, who was still standing at the entrance of my porch. His dominance was alarming; his face stoic and firm. Only his eyes—eager and filled with love—told me the truth.

  He had come back for me.

  “What are you doing here?” I whispered, speaking directly to Tyler.