Love, Laughter and Happily Ever After: A Short Story Collection

by Daisy Prescott

  “Language!” John grabs her and covers her ears.

  “She’s a baby. She can’t understand anything we’re saying. Have you heard yourself? You’ll be lucky if her first word isn’t fuck.”

  “Shut up, asshole.” His eyes widen. “Fuck.”

  I chuckle as I pick up the diaper and huge pile of wet wipes. There are at least ten. “I’m not sure how many you normally use.”

  “That seems about right. There’s a baggie in there you can put everything in.”

  I pull out what looks like a doggy poop bag. It even smells nice. “Fancy.”

  “Diane’s mom sent them.” He shrugs.

  “These should have a skull and crossbones on them. Or the nuclear waste symbol.” I crack myself up.

  Hey, being easily amused makes life a lot easier to deal with, especially during the tough times.

  “She sends a lot of stuff.” I eye the pile of toys stuffed into baskets and totes in their living room behind him.

  “She takes her grandmother role very seriously. Because she can’t be here all the time, she sends things. Weekly. We’re going to need a bigger cabin soon.”

  John’s mom died years ago. He’s not close with his dad. Unlike my immediate family of siblings and countless nieces and nephews, John’s family is pretty small. He sees his aunt and uncle a lot. His aunt Helen has happily taken over grandmother duties. She’ll babysit or bring over a casserole every day if John would let her.

  “Where is Diane today, anyway?”

  He rubs his beard, then reaches for a chubby little hand, and kisses the back. “She woke up this morning and said she needed a day to be Diane and not Mommy.”

  I furrow my brow. “What does that mean?”

  “I’m not really sure, but there were tears. Lots of tears.”

  We meet each other’s stares and widen our eyes.

  “Oh.” Tears are never good. Unless they’re “happy tears.” Whatever those are. Honestly, even those are a little scary. A sobbing woman can break a man in a matter of minutes. When it comes to dealing with our emotions, men are most definitely the weaker sex.

  A hormonal, crying woman? Something to be feared and coddled. Best from a distance. Men are fixers. We’ll fix what’s broken, tinker with what works fine, and sometimes mess things up just to fix them later and be a hero. We like concrete solutions. We’re simple like that.

  This is the reason why I have the florist’s number in my phone. Sometimes the solution is flowers and pizza from Sal’s. Sometimes I stop and get a bottle of Hailey’s favorite wine. There are times when I need all three, plus chocolate. Those times I do a drive by delivery and go hang out at The Dog House until I get the all clear.

  I’m not a coward. I’m smart enough to know that sometimes women need to be alone. Or with other women. Hen house without the rooster. Fine by me. Breaks my heart to see Hailey or any woman I love in tears.

  Not afraid to admit that. Not in the least.

  “Where’d she go?” I swing the full baggie. Realizing what I’m holding, and drop it.

  “She called a friend and they went over to town. Last minute spa day and shopping. Lunch.”

  Town can mean anything from the ferry dock to Seattle and beyond. “Off island is good. Right?”

  “She mumbled something about wearing clothes that aren’t covered in someone else’s bodily fluids and not being a cow. At that point, she was crying so hard, I couldn’t really understand her. I just hugged her and told her she’s beautiful.”

  “Smart.”

  We both nod, then stand in silence staring at Alene who is holding John’s finger. I’m pretty sure we’re both thinking the same thing. Someday the little person in his arms is going to turn into a woman— a complicated, beautiful creature who will befuddle us and whom we will protect from pain with everything we have.

  She already has both of us by the short hairs of our hearts. If you lean into it, it doesn’t hurt. It’s only painful if you try to pull away.

  “I need to feed this one. Mind if I do that before we eat?”

  “Pizza’s cold and the beer is probably warm.” I walk ahead of him, tossing the diaper bag on the couch before heading to the garage to dispose of the baggie.

  Returning to the kitchen, I find John opening the microwave to heat up the pizza. Alene perches in his arms like a small supervisor. She misses nothing, and claps when he reaches for the bottle warmer.

  “I’ll put the beer in the fridge for a bit.” I open the door and am greeted with baggies of breast milk. A lot of them. My mouth gapes open. I can understand why Diane feels like a cow. She’s a freaking dairy queen.

  “If you can’t find room for the beer in there, try the one in the garage.”

  I notice he doesn’t call it the beer fridge anymore. Shifting a few things around, I’m able to lay most of the bottles flat. I stuff two into the freezer for a couple of minutes.

  John sits in a rocking recliner and feeds the baby while I sip on my own bottle.

  The two of them are in a bubble. If we lived in a cartoon world, little baby chicks and hearts would be circling his head while she pats his scruffy face and drinks her lunch.

  I sit alone on the sofa and feel like I’m watching a stranger. My wingman, my best friend from our teens is now a dad. All six foot too many inches of bearded, flannel wearing, grumbling guy is grinning at his baby, the spawn of his loins, like he’s never seen anything more beautiful in the world.

  “What’s happened to us?” I don't mean to say it out loud.

  “We grew up.”

  Alene pops off her bottle, dribbling milk down her chin as she twists to look at me. I swear she ducks her chin and flirts. Can’t say I blame her. I have that effect on women of all ages.

  “She likes deep voices,” John laughs.

  “You are so screwed.” I shake my head.

  “Just you wait until you have your own.”

  I choke on air.

  Chapter 3

  While the baby naps, we eat pizza and shoot the shit.

  I have a second beer and John has his first.

  “I can’t have more than one in case I need to drive somewhere.” His eyes wander over to the baby monitor. The light reassures us it’s on and working.

  I hear familiar lyrics from my own childhood.

  “How long have we been listening to baby songs?” I point at the speaker in case John needs clarity. “Are these the original lyrics? I always sang it ‘do your balls hang low.’ Huh.”

  He grabs the remote and switches playlists. “About a half hour. Happens to me all the time now. I took Diane’s Jeep yesterday and found myself singing along to John Jacob Jinglelheimer Schmidt.”

  “You still know all the words? That’s impressive.” I give him a semi-sarcastic thumbs up.

  “It’s basically the name over and over again.”

  “I bet you rocked it like you did Taylor Swift.”

  “How’d you know about… oh, right. Diane and Hailey are friends.”

  I nod. “No secrets.”

  For a few minutes we settle into a comfortable quiet, sipping our beer and eating slices of pizza.

  “Speaking of gossip, you talk to Dan lately?” I ask.

  He shakes his head no. “Why?”

  “When I stopped in to get the pizza, there was woman there.”

  John stares at me. “So?”

  “I didn’t recognize her. She was fancy. High heels and painted nails.”

  “Like a hooker?”

  “Hookers are fancy?” I shoot him a glare. “No, Seattle fancy. She glared at Dan while he ignored her from behind the counter.”

  “How do you know he was ignoring her?”

  “He wouldn’t look over at the tables. At all. I even moved around in front of the counter so he’d have to look in that direction. Nope. Kept his head down.”

  “Spurned lover?”

  “Spurned something, but I doubt she’s an ex. Too hoity for him.”

  As far as we both
know, Dan lives the life of a monk. Never see him with a woman. Hell, we rarely see him outside his pizza place. Other than the trip to the San Juans last year for John’s bachelor weekend with the Kelso brothers, we don’t socialize with him much at all. I know Erik Kelso is on some local business council with him, but I get the feeling Dan keeps to himself for reasons he also keeps to himself.

  He works six days a week, lives alone, and that’s about all we’ve got. The man can talk your ear off about wood-burning ovens, best types of wood, and area farms, but ask him something personal and he clams up. I know he’s not from the island because he opened the pizzeria about five years ago when he moved here. His house sits on a high bluff overlooking Holmes Harbor. Rumors say he spent a lot of money on it. Where he got that kind of money is anyone’s guess. He hates big business and banks. If someone ever brings up chain restaurants or franchises, watch out. He’ll give an earful about the evils of corporate America squashing the dreams of the honest small businesses.

  He’s kind of an odd duck.

  Hailey and Diane think he’s hot. They call him a silver fox, whatever that is. I think he must put something in his pizza dough that’s affected their brains. Or it’s the jalapeño and pineapple nonsense they love that has both convinced that Dan’s quiet loner status equals romantic movie hero.

  “Strange indeed. As long as he keeps making great pizza, what, or who he does, is none of my business.”

  “Yeah. Just odd, that’s all.” I shrug.

  The baby monitor comes to life, letting us know Baby Day is awake and demanding our servitude.

  John sets down his beer. “I’ll get her. You want to take a walk? She likes to check out the neighborhood and wave at her admirers in the afternoon.”

  I wipe my hands on my jeans. “I’ll get the stroller ready.”

  “You sure? Last time you gave yourself a blood blister trying to open it.” He dodges the balled up paper towel I throw at his head.

  “Damn you and your overly sophisticated baby gear.” I’m laughing. He’s right. The stroller is one of these deluxe deals where you push one button and it unfolds like magic. I rub my thumb against my index finger at the painful memory.

  I open another beer and pick up the stroller. I pop open the queen’s carriage outside the front door. It even comes with convenient cupholders for mommy’s wine or daddy’s beer. These designers think of everything.

  John and Alene come out. Babe follows behind. Baby Day’s bundled up in a pink fleece jacket. In her hand she holds a hat that I’m guessing should be on her head. Currently she’s using it to hit her dad’s shoulder. Everything is a weapon around her. Understanding clicks about why parents have to lock down everything and hide the sharp objects. These micro-ninjas are dangerous.

  I catch John staring at the stroller.

  “Are you using the cupholder for your beer?”

  “Yeah. That’s so cool they added them for the parents.” I pick up the bottle and take a swig. “You want me to grab you one?”

  “That’s not for beer, you doofus. It’s for bottles, baby bottles and sippy cups.”

  “You mean those wine sippy cups women like?”

  “No,” he grumbles. “Although Diane has one of those.”

  “So does Hailey. Her mom got her a set for the hot tub.”

  Babe wanders along the sandy shoulder, nose to the ground. I stroll beside John and Princess Alene. We create the world’s smallest parade as we walk down the road. This time of year, things are quiet down here at the beach. It’s sunny and warm for early October and a few of John’s neighbors are puttering around their properties. Sure enough, Alene waves and smiles at everyone we pass.

  Occasionally Babe walks beside the carriage, even putting his nose close to Alene.

  “Does he always check on her?”

  “I’m telling you, he’s a great baby sitter. I totally trust him.”

  “Except for earlier.”

  “Don’t tell Diane. She worries too much. I want her to be able to have breaks and fun with her friends without thinking I’m too incompetent to take care of my own daughter.”

  His daughter.

  The pinging in my chest returns. I rub the spot, but the twinge doesn’t go away.

  “You’re the most competent man under forty I know.”

  “Who else do you hang out with? The Kelsos? Yeah, not a lot of competition for being a real adult with them.”

  “Erik’s doing all right.”

  John bursts out in laughter. “Nothing like your ass going viral to make you grow up.”

  With a chuckle I join him. “Yeah, but the calendar was my idea. Pretty brilliant if you ask me.”

  “A calendar wasn’t exactly on your mind when you threatened to streak down Anthes street.”

  “I still think we should do a naked sprint down First. Raise money for another charity. Prostate cancer’s been done. Maybe testicular cancer? Save the balls?”

  John rolls his neck. “Damn, when are you going to grow out of this need to be naked outside?”

  “Never?” Being naked outside is amazing. Unless there are raccoons and rangers involved. “You have to admit last summer’s snipe hunt was pretty awesome.”

  With his eyes closed, John shakes his head. His voice is low when he speaks. “Damn, I can’t believe that was only a year ago.”

  I glance at Princess Pea-shoot’s chubby arm hanging over the side of her stroller. “A lot’s changed.”

  John ducks his head to see her. A happy laugh rewards him. “I can’t imagine my world without her.”

  I trip over a pebble.

  “Don’t give me shit about it, Donnely.”

  After righting myself, I catch up to him. “Never. I’ve seen the same thing happen with my sisters and their babies. I think babies must emit some sort of special chemical. Hailey is always sniffing baby heads like an addict.”

  He rubs his jawline. “You two ever talk about kids?”

  A conversation from April right after Alene’s birth echoes in my head. “Hailey talks about starting a family.”

  “Just Hailey?”

  “I usually change the subject. Between Lori and Diane, her friends are giving her baby fever. We’re not ready. We live together. We have Nameless. We’re already a family. Isn’t that enough?”

  What I don’t say is that sometimes I fear I’m not enough. Can’t I have her all to myself for a while before I have to share her body with an invader? Before someone else becomes the number one in her life? I love being the focus of her love. I don’t want to split her attention. How ridiculous would it be to be jealous of a baby? I don’t want to be that guy.

  After remaining silent for a minute or two, John responds. “I get that.”

  We continue in silence to the end of the road.

  I’m happy. Damn, content even. I don’t like change or the unknown. I’ve worked as a welder for over a decade because it’s easy and I know what to expect. I live on land owned by my family for generations. Hell, I didn’t have any real responsibilities in my twenties. Not even a pet fish. Then Hailey King crashed back into my world and I realized how much I’d been missing by not growing up. I love her beyond my imagination. However, after proposing within the first year we dated, I’m stalling on setting a date to make her mine forever.

  As we turn back from the channel to the lagoon, realization hits me.

  I like being engaged. I like knowing she’s mine.

  But I’m in limbo again, living in the status quo because it’s comfortable.

  Thing needs to change.

  John and I are sprawled on the couch, watching college football when Diane gets home. It’s dark out and we’ve only turned on the lights in the kitchen, leaving the room in shadows from the blue glow of the flat screen.

  John jumps up and greets her with a hug. I feel like a creeper watching as he kisses the top of her head, then tilts her chin up. When he goes in for the kiss, I focus on the television and the sleeping baby on my chest. They sof
tly whisper to each other for a few minutes.

  Leaning away from John’s arms, Diane spots Alene asleep on me. “Look at you, Tom Cat. Hold still.”

  Before I can do anything, which isn’t much given the sleeping baby, she snaps a pic with her phone. Typing away on her screen, her smile widens.

  “Please tell me you didn’t post that to Facebook,” I whisper.

  “I’m not that cruel. No, I texted it to Hailey.”

  Great. “You’re a menace, you know that right? Don’t give Hailey any ideas.” My annoyance is mostly an act. Hailey’s eyes get all dreamy whenever she sees me holding a baby. There’s a look she gets I’ve learned to recognize which often leads to her jumping me as soon as we’re alone. I not so secretly love it when she takes the initiative. Diane’s doing us a sexual favor.

  After setting her phone on the counter, Diane quietly moves to stand in front of me. She leans down and softly kisses the top of Alene’s head. “Want me to put her to bed?”

  “Nah, it’s okay. She’s not bothering me.” I spread my hand out on Alene’s small back. Her body is so warm and cozy, like a sweet smelling, onesie wearing hot water bottle.

  “Tom, she can’t get used to sleeping on a man’s chest again. We’ll never get her to fall asleep in her crib.”

  “Again?” I raise an eyebrow.

  Diane’s eyes cut to John and I see him brush his hand up his neck. “Yeah. Softie over there would pick her up if she so much as frowned, then hold her until she fell asleep again. She used to hold onto his beard even in her sleep. We got a squirrel stuffie. The tail makes a nice replacement.”

  Instead of teasing John, which would be so easy to do right now, something pings in my chest. Like a rubber band hitting my sternum, there is a little sting and I want to rub it away except I can’t because there is a baby cover the spot.

  “Shut up, Tom.” John cuts me off from the insult Diane lobbed to me.

  To ease the ache behind my ribs, I go for it anyway. “I always did think your beard was harboring some woodland creatures.”

  He groans. “And there it is.”

  I chuckle, which shakes my chest and Alene stirs, scrunching up her face and gripping my shirt. She manages to trap a few chest hairs in her tiny fist. It’s painful enough to make my eyes water, but I don’t want to disturb her. I try exhaling away the pain.