All This Time

by Stacy Lane

  I pull out my phone as she skips over to his right side. Brielle climbs up on the arm of his recliner, and Dad shifts awkwardly. She doesn’t care though, plops her little bottom on the cushion and cozies up closer.

  After taking a few, Brielle inspects for approval. Dad looks over her shoulder.

  “Can you send me those? I’d like to have a copy if you don’t mind,” he asks.

  “Do you have a cell phone?”

  He says yes, and I must make a comical expression, because his lips purse in a sulky manner.

  “I’m up with the times these days, you know.”

  “I didn’t say anything.” Biting the inside of my cheek, I fail at relaxing my face. He calls out his digits and I send the two best pictures from the bunch. Dad closed his eyes in the other three.

  His cell chimes and he pulls it from his pocket. Seconds later the mumbling curses begin.

  “Grandpa, let me help.” Brielle takes the phone from his bulky, rough hands.

  My eyes shoot to him, and his to hers. We’re both stunned at the effortlessness of Brielle dubbing him Grandpa this soon. It’s natural for a child to take to their family with the kind of ease she’s demonstrating. It’s the effect on me that shocks my system. I feel it all; the elation and the pain. I’m not completely alone anymore. She has someone other than me to give all the love in her little heart to. But then there’s the regret of keeping her all to myself by rationalizing protection was what had been best. She was missing out on so much because of my selfishness.

  My dad’s blue eyes sparkle as heavy puddles fill up. I can’t recall ever seeing that much emotion on his face.

  Brielle sits next to him, oblivious to the tidal pool of jubilation circling her.

  “There you go,” she chimes. “I put it as your lock screen too.”

  “My what screen?” He clears his throat, looking down at the phone. “Oh, well, look at that. I didn’t know I could change the picture.”

  “I guessed that. Why else would you have a flower as your background.”

  “Okay, smarty pants.”

  She giggles. “I can change the other background too.”

  “Show me.”

  Brielle taps on his phone some more. “This one. What do you want on it? You don’t have any photos saved to your phone. Except the ones we just took.”

  “Uh…”

  “Is that your truck outside?”

  “My rig,” he nods.

  “I can take a picture of that and save it as the background.”

  “All right.”

  We all walk outside together. Brielle holds Dad’s phone in position, standing back far enough to capture every foot of the big cab.

  “Look at that,” he praises. “You’re quite the photographer, Brielle.”

  “Thanks.” She smiles her cute grin up at him. “Can I sit in it?”

  “My rig?” He repeats once again.

  “Yeah. I’ve never been inside a semi truck before.”

  “Sure. Let me grab my keys.”

  As he walks back inside the house I take notice of the patches of grass growing alongside the fifth wheel. The driveway has always been nothing but dirt because of this vehicle, and now there’s actual grass growing. He says he’s about to go on a run soon. Why would grass be growing if driving in and out like the olds days constantly killed it?

  He returns, opening the driver door and helping Brielle climb up. She asks a million questions about all gadgets and buttons and the sleeper. When he lets her pull on the horn she glistens with pure joy and giggles.

  Brielle jumps over to where I stand a few feet away.

  “Mommy, I’m hungry. Can Grandpa go with us to get lunch?”

  “If he wants to.”

  “Oh. Uh…” He shuffles side to side after locking the cab back up. “Where’re you going?”

  “Can we go to the diner you used to work at?”

  An uncomfortable prickle dances across my skin when I imagine the same looks we received earlier in town. My old boss still ran the diner, he would till the day he died, and unless he’s already dead, I did not want to deal with the third degree questioning on my new life.

  I gaze down at Brielle, and say, “Maybe another time. I was thinking we could get something by the hotel that way we can clean up before dinner at Della’s tonight.”

  “I don’t want to be any trouble. Y’all go on without me,” Dad adds.

  “It’s no trouble as long as you don’t mind tagging along.”

  “Please, Grandpa.” She turns those pretty blues on him, and clasps her hands together in front of her face.

  He purses his lips. “Can’t really say no to that face, now can I?”

  “Nope.” Brielle cheeses.

  “All right then.”

  Dad locks up his house and Brielle climbs in the back of my car. I’m shutting her door and about to open mine when I catch him staring at me over the roof.

  He gives a small nod to where Brielle sits inside. “He’s not here if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  My hand rests on the car door knob. “Della told me that too.”

  “What else did Della tell you?”

  I let my head fall to the side, curious by his choice of words. Although, it’s not really his words, but how he says them. My dad’s a straightforward guy. I’ve never heard sarcasm come out of his mouth.

  “That he lied about why his daughter isn’t in his life. I saw all the looks from everyone in town when we got here.” I stare down into the car at Brielle sitting peacefully in her seat.

  “That’s why we’re having lunch somewhere else, huh?”

  I nod.

  “Well. The looks won’t last much longer once Luke knows you’re back.”

  “I’m not back, though.” His lips twitch with an I-beg-to-differ kind of smirk. “We’re not moving back, Dad. This is just a one time visit.”

  His silent humor dies off.

  This reunion has gone better than I could have ever possibly imagined, but I don’t want to mislead him or anyone else here. It may be my home town, but it’s no longer my home.

  “Della and Luke have their lives here, and I have mine in Tampa.”

  “Will I ever get to see Brielle again?”

  I sigh, scratching a fictitious itch on my forehead. “Of course. I didn’t mean I’d never let you see her. I don’t think she’ll ever let me keep her away again.”

  “Because I want that,” he says, carrying on like he didn’t hear me. “Livvie, I know I pushed you away, but it was a mistake.”

  “You kicked me out.” I felt the need to rectify his meaning on “pushed away.”

  “I was a stupid drunk.”

  “And I’m afraid you’re only saying that right now because you are sober for the moment.”

  “Then let me prove it to you.”

  I lock eyes with his pleading ones. The dire need to correct his wrongs rolls atop the roof, putting the ball in my court.

  “We’ll see how it goes,” I reply.

  “Thank you.”

  “Let’s go eat,” I say, pulling on the handle and opening my door. Before I can get both legs inside, standing with all my weight on the left foot, he speaks once again.

  “I get the impression Della has left some things out while you two were catching up this morning.”

  “We didn’t have long to chat. That’s why we’re gong back tonight.”

  “Maybe so, but your old friend likes to play word games. Just be careful.”

  That makes no sense. Della was never the type of person to play games period. She had too much confidence to worry about scheming just to get her way.

  Nevertheless, I ask, “How so?”

  “She’s got a bit of high horse syndrome, if you know what I mean.”

  “Dad, just because her and Luke have done well for themselves, and live a huge house doesn’t make them…”

  “And that’s what I’m talking about.” He points a “gotcha” finger at me. “Th
ere ain’t no Luke and Della. Her fiancé’s name is Paul, Luke’s best friend.”

  Paul?

  Luke’s best friend…

  Oh ho ho ho. The irony is too much.

  And I understand his reference to word games. Della played it very stealth. She never name dropped who her fiancé actually was. I jumped to the conclusion she and Luke were still together after all this time. Of course, I was under the assumption Luke got back together with her after I left, and we all know Brady’s a liar, but I never specifically asked about her and him as an item. Not that Della was required to clarify any of that for me. But she could have mentioned Paul. Instead, she intentionally kept saying “fiancé.”

  The question, more for myself than anyone else, is simple and yet loaded like a canon full of gun powder.

  Why?

  Chapter Four

  Paul is the master at killing any awkwardness in a room full of people.

  From the moment we arrived, Della’s fiancé has done nothing but entertain all of us. It all makes sense after having met Ethan this morning.

  Expectation gnawed at me in the time awaiting this dinner. Finding out Luke wasn’t engaged to Della—or anyone else according to my dad—sparked a fuse that’s been cut for a long time. As each minute ticked by, it became harder and harder to put myself in check.

  Along with old flames resurfacing, I wrecked myself with the inevitable strain between Della and I. I didn’t get any vibes of blame coming from her this morning. We had such a strong friendship once, and I knew it would take time and effort to repair as long as we were both willing. But my dad left me believing she was a different person than I remembered six years ago.

  As I watched her with her fiancé and son, the reality of that is true.

  We were both different people.

  We are adults and moms and lived vastly different lifestyles. Sure, I could see the “high horse” persona my dad declared her to have, but it’s more than that. As kids, I always felt as Della’s equal. Sitting here in her fancy kitchen, drinking a bottle of wine that couldn’t be picked up at your local grocery store because they have it shipped straight from the vineyard, did not leave me feeling comfy-cozy. Doubt crept up a couple of times. What worked for us as kids, may not work for us as adults.

  But then we would share a laugh. We would find common ground while retelling a story from our good ol’ days. Her wide mouth smile and deep belly laughter would ring in my ears and I recognized my friend. I missed her so, so much.

  Her fiancé is awesome. Shorter than her tall frame, but they fit well together. In more ways than looks alone. Watching them interact led quickly to forgetting there ever was a Luke and Della duo. There was a strong presence of real, true love between them.

  Paul’s that nerdy-hot kind of guy. The one who sits behind a computer or gaming system or comic books, and just spits out random nerdy shit that it’s too adorable not to love. I’m convinced he could make the most morbid person laugh uncontrollably.

  Paul stood in the kitchen preparing food for the grill. I wasn’t surprised at Della not helping with even the simplest task, she never cooked well when her mom asked for our assistance on certain holiday occasions. Not one to sit idle—downfall to being a single parent, you don’t actually enjoy quiet time to yourself when it’s rarely given—I forged ahead of Paul’s insistent refusal of me helping out.

  Besides, dicing up carrots and mushrooms helps alleviate the sharp pain cutting through me at the fact that Luke hasn’t showed up yet.

  Well in to the first hour of being here, Brielle (thank god, because I was too chicken shit to ask myself) came charging into the kitchen with Ethan hot on her heels. She wanted to know when her uncle would be getting here.

  I learned Paul and Luke owned a business together. They didn’t always work weekends, but their office in the center of town is new to them, and as coincidence may have it, Brielle and I most likely walked right by it this morning.

  By the time Della got there for lunch today, Luke had already taken off. She left multiple voice mails and text messages, but he took his boat out to go fishing. Something he was known to do for long periods of time.

  The sun would be setting within an hour. I held out hope for him receiving the missed messages before we left to go back to our hotel.

  In the mean time, I drank wine and goofed off with Della and Paul.

  Well, Paul goofed off. We just laughed at him.

  “You trying to show me up over there, Liv?” Paul asks, eyeing my chopping skills from the opposite end of the counter.

  He wore an apron of military camo tied around his neck and waist. On the front, in the center of his chest, were the words Eye Dee Ten Tango. Obviously some military lingo, but I didn’t ask what it meant.

  “I’m multitasking. I bet I can hold an entire conversation and chop all this up before you.”

  “Challenge accepted!” He thrusts his large, sharp knife in the air.

  “Paul, honey, please don’t chop off any fingers. I like your fingers,” Della preens.

  “Yeah, you do.” He wiggles his brows up and down.

  “Gross. You two live in that honeymoon phase don’t you?” I ask.

  They answered by swapping dirty yet loving gesticulations at each other.

  “What about you, Liv? Seeing anyone?”

  “Meh. Sort of.”

  “Spoiler alert: they are not in the honeymoon phase anymore,” Paul speaks through the side of his mouth.

  “He’s kind of my boss.”

  “Kinky.”

  “Not at all,” I laugh.

  “How is he ‘kind of’ your boss?” Della asks.

  “Okay, well, he is my boss, but when I started working for the company his mom and dad ran things. He took over earlier this year.”

  “So you’ve been dating him awhile.” Della puts together.

  “Yeah. It’s just a very slow progressing relationship.” I spoke with no enthusiasm about Connor and I, and they picked up on it.

  “Sounds boring,” Paul’s blurts out, complete honesty.

  I couldn’t talk to anyone at work about our relationship—office politics and all—and that was the only place I even remotely considered people as my friends. Although, I held that term quite loosely.

  So I found this a safe zone to share a little. Out of practice with giving any piece of myself to others, but I was in a awkwardly comfortable space here.

  “I don’t have time to date, and Connor’s a nice guy,” I shrug.

  “Hope he’s good in bed at least,” Della says.

  “Meh.”

  Della bustles with laughter and I wind up joining her even though it’s at my own expense.

  “If meh is the sum of your relationship, that’s telling you something,” Paul says, eyeing my cutting board and seeing how far ahead I really am. He kicks at the back of my knee, weakening my stance.

  I reach over, using my knife to swipe uncut vegetables off his board.

  “Does Brielle like him?” Della asks, putting a pause on our cheating schemes.

  “Yes and no.”

  “I smell a story there.”

  “Even though it’s important your kid likes the guy you’re dating,” Della starts, “that can’t be the only reason you keep him around.”

  “Of course not,” I reply. Grabbing my last carrot before moving onto the few mushrooms that will take me no time at all, I ponder out loud my thoughts on Connor and what draws me to him. Or that’s what I try to do, anyway. “He’s…Connor is…”

  “Meh?” Paul finishes for me.

  Della spits wine all across the counter in front of her, choking on laughter. I take a chunk of chopped carrot and throw it at Paul’s head. He grins back at me as it bounces off his cropped hair.

  “I would say let’s hook her up with Luke, babe, but she already knows him so that ruins any chance he could have had.”

  Della’s choking on laughter turns into actual choking.

  My smile freezes then falt
ers.

  Paul never looks back up, cutting and munching on raw carrots.

  If Paul doesn’t know about Luke and I… No. It’s fine. Why would he? Della obviously moved on to a healthy and stable relationship, and Brady lied about everything he had me believing these past six years. My brief mess up with kissing my best friend’s boyfriend was too insignificant to mention.

  That’s why I remained keeping my head down, avoiding contact with a recovering Della, and ignored the sting of hurt I felt that Luke never brought up what I thought was mutual affection to his supposedly best friend.

  It’s fine.

  I’m fine.

  You guys were nineteen. Get over it, Liv. He did.

  “Done!” I shout, louder than anticipated considering the wave of emotions unsettling me.

  “Dammit, I was so close.”

  An entire onion remains to be sliced up.

  I wind up taking the onion from Paul to help him out. Afterward, we put some skewers together with veggies, potatoes, and steak. He takes them, and hot dogs for the kids, outside to grill. I offered to make a pasta salad since he bought those ingredients as well, and then mac and cheese for the little ones. Inside their large, walk-in pantry I found cans of baked beans and decided to whip up an alternate concoction with those while I was at.

  Della sipped wine and watched me get familiar and comfortable in her kitchen. From the outside looking in, anyone would be convinced I do this kind of act all the time.

  The new contentment provides bravery to take the next step and talk about something other than the past. The future.

  “You mentioned the wedding’s in May,” I say, glancing over my shoulder as I stand at their stove. “How’s that coming along?”

  “Good. We’re keeping it small. Doing it here in the back yard.”

  That surprises me. In the short time I’ve spent with Della and Paul today they’ve perceived to be… flashy.

  “Paul doesn’t speak with his family, and his only friends are Luke and a couple clients he deals with on the regular, but some old friends are coming down from New York. We’re basically married in all the ways that apply. I don’t need the big wedding.”