by Leddy Harper
I dipped my head and ran my fingers through my hair, attempting to calm down my racing heart and see her logic. “Fine. I agree with you. But you said yourself that you need time to figure it out. Can we just wait until that point before making any decisions regarding school? For all we know, her teacher will come back and then this will be a moot issue. You’ve asked for time and I’ve agreed. So now, I’m asking for the same thing.”
She pulled her shoulders back and nodded. Her pursed lips showed me that she didn’t like it, but at least she’d agreed with me. “Fine. But the moment we decide to take this thing between us seriously, and commit to being with each other, I’m going to the school office to request a change if you’re still in this class.”
“I’ll go to them myself.” It was a lie meant to make me look good. Just the thought of going to the school office and requesting a student’s transfer because I was dating her mom made me nauseous. But at least I didn’t have to make the call then. I still had time to figure out a way around it.
“Okay then. It seems like we’ve got everything figured out.”
“I still want to bend you over my desk, Miss Jacobs,” I teased, hoping to lighten the air around us. Although, I wasn’t really joking. I really did want to take her again, not sure I’d ever have my fill of her.
“Keep your thoughts to yourself, Mr. Taylor.”
“I think we broke those rules years ago.”
She winked and turned around to leave, stopping at the door. “Parent-teacher conferences are coming up. Make sure my meeting is the last one of the day.” And then she vanished, leaving me standing still in front of my desk with an impossibly hard dick.
Between Bree’s job and her father being released from the hospital, we hadn’t spent much time together since her visit to my classroom. Her dad was released Saturday, so she’d taken the night off work to help him settle in at home. She then spent the entire day on Sunday at his house, so I didn’t get to hear from her until she called later that night after Ayla had gone to bed.
“What’s the deal with your stepmom?” I asked, wondering why she needed so much help from Bree and her sister.
“Robin suffers from severe migraines. She has to get Botox injections every three months to calm them. When she has flare-ups, they’re debilitating. However, for a week after she gets the injection, she suffers from a continuous headache. It’s not quite a migraine, but it’s enough to knock her down. She doesn’t drive when she’s like that, and stress only exacerbates them. Because of the wedding, she pushed the treatment back, not wanting to chance the headaches that weekend. So Monday morning, she went in for the injections. Dad’s accident set off a massive migraine, and she’s been suffering ever since. That’s why she’s had to rely on me and Sarah, since Clarissa is still on her honeymoon. I feel bad because we haven’t even been able to get ahold of Clari.”
“Is there anything you need help with? Anything I can do?”
“No, but thank you. Timing just sucks really bad. My parents have been there for us—especially for me with Ayla—that I’m glad I can give it back.”
“Why does Robin get such bad migraines?”
Bree groaned, and I could tell it was a topic she didn’t care for. “We don’t know. She’s had scans done, but they couldn’t find anything wrong. They have no idea why she gets them or what to do for them other than the Botox.”
“Don’t tell my sister this…she might fake a headache to get Botox,” I teased.
“Oh no…this is nothing like that. She gets thirty-one injections. Seven in the forehead, four on each side of her head, ten in the back, and six in her shoulders—three on each side. It’s very painful.”
“Damn…all for a migraine.”
“It’s not just a migraine. It’s chronic.”
“That makes me never want to complain of a simple headache again. That’s got to suck.” I didn’t know what else to say, feeling as if I’d offended her without meaning to.
“Yeah, tell me about it. Imagine how I was when I first moved here. I felt like I couldn’t say anything about my pregnancy aches around her. She never held it against me, or played the ‘I’ve got it worse’ card. But I remember times when my feet were so swollen I could barely walk, and she’d help me raise them and bring me things to keep me off them, all while barely being able to see past her own pain.”
“She sounds like an amazing woman.”
“She really is. Apparently, she’d wanted my dad to get custody of me a long time before that, but he couldn’t. And I found out that they used to have a lot of fights over me. She’d get mad that he never called me very much, and he’d get mad that he couldn’t and take it out on her. It made me feel really bad to hear that.” Her voice was quiet, and the image of her lying in bed filtered through my mind.
“She told you that?”
“No. The girls did.”
“How was that? Suddenly having two sisters?” I wanted to hear every detail. I wanted to know everything about her and her life since us.
“Amazing. I was so scared before moving. All I could picture was Cinderella. I thought they’d be nasty, and that Robin would make me her bitch. But it was nothing like that at all. They all welcomed me in with open arms.”
“I’m really happy for you, Bree. It makes me really happy to know that everything has worked out for you.” And that was the truth.
“Thank you, Axel. I know it sounds really weird to say, but I don’t think I would’ve made it had you not left. It was a really shitty thing that happened, and I don’t like how it affected you, but I firmly believe that if one thing about us had changed, I wouldn’t be here right now. I wouldn’t have Ayla, I wouldn’t have my dad, Robin, or my sisters. My job sucks; I’m not doing what I want to do. And I’m living with my sister. I was a teen mom, money is tight, and sometimes I get lonely…but it sure as hell beats what I had to endure living with my mom. I was shown that there is an entire different side to life.”
“Yeah. I know what you mean. It doesn’t matter what I went through, just as long as you came out a winner. My poor choices damaged me…but it didn’t kill me. At least I’m still here, and we’ve found each other again.”
She fell silent for a moment, but then cleared her throat and said, “Axel? You said you drank a lot, and then decided to be sober. Did you go to rehab or anything? Or do you have to go to those AA meetings?”
“I never went to rehab. I realized my ways before I’d gotten to the point where I needed to seek outside help. My sister and Danny were enough of a support for me. And I’ve thought about checking out some meetings, although I never have. For the most part, I don’t even think about drinking. Well, I didn’t until you showed back up.”
“I make you want to drink again?”
I let out a light chuckle, even though my situation was far from funny. “No. Not really. But you have to remember that I started drinking because I didn’t know how to handle the loss of you. I didn’t know how to sort through my feelings regarding everything that happened between us. So instead of being an adult about it, I decided to numb it, not wanting to deal with it at all. And then you came back and set me straight on everything I’d assumed before. It was like everything I thought I’d buried long ago has been dug up, and is now haunting me.” I paused to take a breath, organizing my thoughts. “But to answer your question, no. You don’t make me want to drink. I thought about it once. But I know better than to go down that road again.”
“I’m glad,” she whispered.
“You sound tired. I’m going to let you go.”
“Goodnight, Axel. I’m picking Ayla up from school tomorrow, so maybe I’ll see you in pick-up line. If not. I’ll call you after we come back from my parents’ house and she settles down.”
I fell asleep, looking forward to seeing her after school the next day.
The following morning, I found an unfinished kitchen table at the end of my street, and put it into the back of my truck on my way to work. I planned to
take it to Bree after school and surprise her with it. The anticipation of giving it to her, and the look on her face is what passed the time quickly.
With only ten more minutes left in the day, I went over some flyers that I put in the folders to send home with the kids. “This weekend, the kindergarten classes are having a father-daughter dance on Saturday night and a mother-son bowling game on Sunday. Your parents need to have the forms filled out and turned into the office by Friday.”
“What if we don’t have a father?” one of the girls in the front row asked quietly.
My heart sank for her, and I immediately thought of Ayla. “You don’t have to come with a father. You can ask your grandfather, or an uncle to be your guest. Maybe a grownup you’re close with.”
The little girl smiled and went back to getting ready to leave.
“We’re going to line up in five minutes, so make sure you have your folders and lunch boxes in your backpacks.” I turned and sat behind my desk, putting my own things away for the day.
“My papa still isn’t feeling good. And I don’t have anybody to go with me to the dance.” A small, timid voice spoke up from in front of me, melting my heart.
I glanced up and my heart fell as I saw Ayla standing in front of me with the saddest expression on her face. Her aqua-colored eyes seemed dull, not quite as full of life as I had become accustomed to. “I’m sure your friends won’t mind sharing their daddies with you. And I’ll be there for anyone who needs someone.”
A smile lifted the corners of her tiny lips a little.
“Listen to me, Ayla. I’m sure your papa feels real bad he can’t be there for you. But I bet he’ll make it up to you as soon as he’s feeling better. You two will have lots of adventures together, once he’s feeling well again. And as far as your dad, I think if he could, he’d love to be in your life.” I don’t know why I said that, maybe to make her feel better? Whatever the reason, it only made me question more. “Do you know anything about your dad?”
“Mommy says I laugh like him,” she said with a brighter smile.
“And what kind of laugh is that?”
She ducked her head, hiding her rosy cheeks as her shoulders bobbed up and down with the quiet laughter that took over her body.
“Well, I know one thing for sure…you blush like your mom.”
“Mommy also says I talk like my dad, too.”
“Oh, yeah?” I asked, my curiosity piqued. “And how’s that?”
“She’s always correcting me. She says, ‘You sound like your father’ every time I say something grammarly wrong. But she doesn’t say it in a mean way. I think she likes it because she gets a real big smile and laughs. Oh! And I know his favorite music. She’s played me some of the songs, but some parts we have to skip over because they aren’t appropriated for kids.” She began to hum a familiar strand of Guns N’ Roses.
The room suddenly became really warm and my body felt on fire at her words. “Ayla, honey…have you ever seen a picture of your father?”
“Mommy gave me a picture of him, but it’s not really of him.”
“What’s it of?”
“Weird eyes.”
My heart raced in my chest. “What kind of eyes.”
“She says they’re from a wolf.”
My lungs refused to work and the room began to spin. My eyesight turned dark and spotted as my brain threatened to shut down. There was no way. It was impossible. Images frantically ran through my mind at warped speed: Her hands on my bare chest. My body between her legs as she sat on my kitchen counter. Her fingers working my belt. Me, telling her how we didn’t need to go that far. Her, telling me how much she needed to feel safe. Bandaging her back one moment, and then soothing her with my body the next.
Me, giving in, pulling a condom from my wallet.
Sitting on my couch.
Bree on top of me.
Her virginity.
And then my mind ran through her words since I found out about Ayla. The things she’d told me about her father: He was just some kid from school. She was in a place where she needed him. The condom must have been defective. He gave her exactly what she needed. And that Ayla was an even mix of Bree and…
I narrowed my eyes on the little girl in front of me, taking in her every feature and comparing it to mine and Aubrey’s. She had really blond hair—the color of mine as a child—yet it was curly like Bree’s. Her eyes were a bright, blue-green shade, the color you’d get when mixing blue with greenish-yellow. There were a few of Aubrey’s freckles on her nose—a nose that, now that I look at it, looks very much like mine—and her coloring was right in between mine and her mother’s, olive yet fair.
How the fuck didn’t I see this before?
Because you weren’t looking…
Because you’d worn a condom that never ripped.
“All right class,” I said, standing from my seat in the hopes of clearing the haze from my brain. “It’s time to line up.”
All the kids grabbed their backpacks and lined up next to the door. I kept Ayla next to me as I walked them to the parent pick-up area in the back of the school. I didn’t have to be back there since the school took turns having different grade levels monitor the lines, and this week wasn’t kindergarten. But I wasn’t out there to work. I had something else on my agenda.
The moment Ayla’s name was called, I escorted her to Aubrey’s car. I noticed the smile through the windshield immediately, right before she caught sight of me. That’s when her smile fell. She obviously saw the look of fury on my face. I opened the back door and waited for Ayla to climb in before tapping on the driver’s side window.
“Take her to your sister, your parents’ house, I don’t care,” I growled into the open window, not caring that Bree’s face had gone ghostly white and still. “Just take her somewhere and meet me back at your house in thirty minutes.”
“Axel—”
“You don’t get to argue with me. You don’t get a choice in this. Drop her off. Meet me in thirty minutes. Don’t make me wait, Aubrey, or I swear to Christ…” I let my threat hang, not wanting to finish it in front of Ayla. She was too small to hear the things I wanted to say to her mother—the things I needed to say.
I couldn’t even look anyone in the eye on my way out of the school, worrying that they’d see the rage that burned inside me. My steps were hard and fast as I stormed to my truck, not paying any attention to the world around me. I had so many thoughts crammed inside my head, fighting for control, threatening to take me under. My mind became consumed with fear, worry, anger…any and every emotion under the sun, and it made my drive to her house pass by quickly. I paid no attention to the speed limit, couldn’t recall how many—if any—red lights I’d hit on my way. It was nothing but a blur. But by the time I pulled up to her house, throwing the truck in park, my hands ached from the way I’d apparently gripped the wheel with every ounce of strength I had in me.
Bree wasn’t there by the time I pulled up, and I had to wait for her. The waiting only served to increase my temper, adding fuel to the fire as every moment passed. A fire that had been lit inside my chest and then, it’d burned into an inferno, causing my skin to blister regardless of the ice-cold air blowing through the vents as I waited. The time it took me to get there blurred, yet as I sat in my truck parked in front of her house, waiting on her to show up, I felt every painful second as it ticked by.
Finally, her car pulled into the driveway. I didn’t wait for her to get out before stomping toward her. I didn’t wait for her to open her door before I grabbed the handle, swinging it open, nearly pulling it from its hinges. And the moment she stepped out of the car, I slammed it closed, rocking the entire vehicle on its wheels. I stalked toward her front door, not bothering to wait for her.
“Axel—”
I slammed my palm on her closed front door, immediately cutting off her words. Without turning to her, keeping my stiff back in her direction, I growled in the deepest, most angry voice I’d ever used, “Just
open the damn door. Unless you want your entire neighborhood to know how pissed I am at you right now.”
Her hands shook violently as her fingers attempted to work the lock. The keys dropped to the porch, and without the patience to wait on her, I picked them up and finished the job myself, worrying that the anger-fueled strength I used would break the key off in the deadbolt. I flung it open, marched inside, and paced the small living room with my head buried in my hands. I had so much to say, so many questions and thoughts I needed to get out, but they all fought for control. I couldn’t seem to organize anything in my head to get out what I needed to.
Aubrey sat quietly on the couch, studying her twisted fingers in her lap. In one glance, my heart broke for her, imagining what it must’ve been like for her to be seventeen and pregnant. But the moment didn’t last long before I remembered her lies, her deceit, and that’s when the heartbreak quickly turned to betrayal.
I stood in front of her, every muscle in my body twitching, as I bent down enough for her to feel my words. “I dare you to lie to my face, Aubrey. Look me in the eye”—I waited for her tear-filled gaze to meet mine—“and tell me Ayla isn’t my kid.”
Her face scrunched with pain before she covered it with her hands.
“Stop!” I grabbed her wrists and pulled them away, making her look at me. “You don’t have the right to hide from me. You don’t have the right to cry. Look me in the eyes and tell me who Ayla’s father is.”
She hiccupped a sob.
“Tell me!”
“You are!” she screamed through her tears, pushing me away and standing up. Getting in my face, finding her own anger, she yelled, “But you don’t have the right to question me! You don’t have the right to come in here and point fingers, assign blame, and condemn me. I’ve done it all on my own for six years, ever since finding out I was pregnant. I don’t need you.” Her voice may have been strong, and her body told of the fight she experienced inside, yet as if I could hear her thoughts, I knew she was anything but strong.
