Here's to Now

by Teagan Hunter

  She doesn’t make a move.

  “Because I love them. With every fiber of my being, I love them.”

  “I seem to recall you saying multiple times how much you despised them.”

  I snort. “Yes, and I also used to think Vanilla Ice was a lyrical genius. Things have changed. I’ve changed. We all have. I’ve worked hard on it too. I’ve done everything I could possibly do to ensure I’d have guardianship over the kids, and I can’t let you take that away from me because I got married.”

  “Hastily,” she argues loudly, pointing a shaky finger at me. “You went off to Vegas and eloped! How is that a sign of responsibility, Gaige? How am I to trust you won’t run off again? That one of the kids won’t get hurt on your watch…again? How can I trust you when all you’ve done is let me down?”

  Her words sink into me, and they sting. In a way, she’s right. I’ve given her plenty of reason to not trust me, but I also think I’ve done my fair share of just the opposite.

  “I ran off when I was sixteen, Mercy. That was almost ten years ago. I don’t judge you for what you did ten years ago, so don’t hold it over my head. That’s not fair.”

  “I’ve also never ran off on my family.”

  I laugh and it sounds dark even to my ears. “Oh? You’ve never turned your back on someone who’s needed you? Are you sure?”

  She nervously twitches in her seat, wiggling around like she can’t get comfortable. Then she straightens her back and sits up fully, regally almost. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You turned your back on my mom when she was sixteen and pregnant, didn’t you? That’s what I’m talking about.”

  “My husband had just died!” She explodes. “I couldn’t take in an infant or my kid sister! I was barely holding myself together. How was I supposed to support her or her immature boyfriend?”

  “And how was I, at sixteen myself, supposed to cope with losing my parents? Cope with knowing I’d have to someday raise four kids when I was barely able to make the right decisions about my own fucking life?”

  “Language!”

  “Screw my language, Mercy! You can’t play that double standard, and I only recently realized what a bullshitter you truly are.”

  “Your time is up!” She stands, pointing at the door.

  I’m about to stand as well, wanting to be on even ground, when Haley lands her hand on my leg. “No, it’s not. We still have four minutes and we aren’t leaving until you hear him out fully.”

  Mercy hesitates, but then sits back down. “I’m counting,” she warns.

  “Move on, Mercy. Move on from my past, from yours. Let me have the guardianship. I can make this right with them. I can give them a good home.”

  “Right.” She laughs dryly. “With some random girl you married.”

  “If it’s any consolation,” Haley speaks up, “I own a successful daycare. I’m not inept with children. I can manage them very well, actually. And, since I’m unable to have children of my own, this would be something that would bring great joy to my life.” My wife glances up at me and I smile encouragingly at her. “Our lives.”

  My aunt glances at the wall clock. “You have two minutes.”

  Feeling the pressure, I rush through the rest of my speech. “Keeping us kids together is going to mean wonders for them. If you don’t sign those guardianship papers, they’ll go into the system and most likely be split up. It would be a total nightmare for them, and I know that’s not what you want. Please, Mercy, give me a chance here. I’m sitting here begging you for this. If that’s not a testament to how much I’ve changed, then I don’t know what is. Please.”

  “Thirty seconds.”

  “Why’d you take us in? To make up for what you didn’t do for my mom? For me? For an opportunity to right your wrongs? That’s what I want. I want that chance to make things better, to make them right. All I need is for you to give that to me.”

  She doesn’t say anything, only stares at me. The only sound in the room is the ticking of the clock. In that moment, I believe I’ve lost her. She’s going to say no. I’ve lost my future with my siblings.

  A heavy weight settles over me. My shoulders sag and tears threaten to fall. Haley slides an arm around me, pulling me toward her, supporting me when she knows I’m hardly holding myself together.

  The seconds tick by, turning into minutes. I know we’ve overstayed our ten minutes, but I’m scared to leave this house. Scared I won’t be allowed back in. Terrified I’ve lost everything I’ve worked so hard for.

  If it weren’t for Haley sitting next to me, I’d feel empty right now. Defeated. Done.

  I gather a strong breath and push my head from Haley’s shoulder. Standing, I pull her up with me. I trudge down the hallway, sadness washing over me in waves, trying to pull me under and drown me. I try to keep my back straight and my head held high, but it’s the toughest struggle I’ve faced yet.

  “I’ll sign them.”

  I freeze. The voice is so small I almost miss it altogether. In fact, if it wasn’t for the way Haley’s gripping my arm—tight enough to cause a bruise, I’m sure—I would have thought I made it up.

  There’s a shuffle coming from the living room, and I know the appropriate thing to do would be to go back in there, but I’m too scared to move, too afraid it is fake.

  “Gaige, I’ll make sure you get the kids.”

  Haley tugs on my arm and I make eye contact with her. She’s silently crying, but I know in an instant they’re happy tears. I spin toward Mercy.

  “Are you being serious right now?”

  “Very. I’ll make calls tomorrow and we can start the process.”

  “Seriously?” I ask again, dazed.

  “Yes,” she bites out, eyes narrowed. “Now, I need to get a nap in before the kids get home, so scoot along. I’ll be in touch tomorrow.”

  She shoos us out the door but my feet won’t budge. That scared feeling washes over me again. What if I walk out and she changes her mind? What if she’s lying? What if this is all an act? I can’t leave.

  “No,” I tell her.

  “No? What does that even mean?”

  “It means I won’t leave until I have something in writing. I can’t have you change your mind again. It ripped me apart last time. I need something tangible.”

  With a heavy sigh, she scrambles off to the kitchen. I wait in the hallway, holding eye contact with Haley. She’s giving me a small reassuring smile, squeezing my hands in hers. It feels like it takes forever for Mercy to come back, but once she does, she thrusts a piece of paper into my hands that means my future is secure.

  “Wait,” I say as I read over her handwritten note. “This says…”

  “After I die? Yes, but let us be honest, Gaige, I don’t have much time left in me.”

  Looking at Mercy, I notice how true her words are. She’s frail, barely hanging on. I can see how much she’s aged in the last year or so. Her gray hair is thinning to an extreme degree. Her muscles have weakened so much she’s hardly able to hold herself up on her own, having to resort to using a cane every day. I’ve seen her at meals, pushing her food around her plate, unable to find the appetite or strength to eat. I’ve seen this all, and I’ve ignored it because I’ve been so unbelievably angry at her over what happened all those years ago.

  It seems I need to eat my own words and swallow them down, because I’m no better than Mercy when it comes to judging people for their pasts.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell her.

  She shuffles back, startled. “What?”

  “I need to let go of the past too. I’ve been holding on to it and judging you for doing the exact same thing. That’s unfair. So, I think we need to start over, look at one another in the now and not the past. Is that doable? Can we make that possible?”

  Mercy regards me with a hard stare, but her brown eyes aren’t as cold as they usually are. Granted, they aren’t warm and welcoming either, but I’ll take it as a good sign.


  “I believe so,” she says quietly, clasping both her hands on her cane.

  I choke back a rush of tears. “Good. That’s good.”

  As I lead Haley from the house and hear the click of the latch behind me, I breathe easy. We don’t move from the porch, and I swear I can feel Mercy watching us from the window, but I don’t care.

  I need this moment, because after twenty-five years of near constant burden, I finally feel free.

  “You okay?” Haley asks from beside me.

  Smiling down at her, I say with confidence, “Yeah, I think I’m going to be just fine.”

  Five Years Later

  Mercy died less than a year after she wrote the note for me. She wasn’t wrong; she didn’t have much time left. In fact, before the month was even up, she was bound to a wheelchair, her muscles so broken down she could no longer hold herself up. The doctors had no idea what was happening to her. It was as if her body was rejecting life, giving up.

  And give up it finally did.

  Our relationship didn’t go out without a reconciliation, though. In the months that followed after I begged for guardianship of the kids, we worked on our relationship. It was never easy, but we didn’t make it all that hard either. In the end, Mercy parted with this world on a good note with me and the kids. I even grew to love her in my own way.

  After her death, we found out something that was life changing: she left us the house with only six payments left to be made. To say we were stunned is an understatement. I had no idea when Mercy did this, but I like to think it was before she agreed to give me my guardianship. I like to think she always wanted us to stay together.

  So, Haley and I packed up our small apartment and moved into the old house on the corner, one that held sad memories for me and none for her.

  Then, we created new ones.

  The kids attached themselves to Haley almost instantly. They adored her, and so did I. Even five years later, every time I watch them together, my heart speeds up a little.

  It took all of us some time to get a rhythm flowing that worked for everyone. Gia needed us to be hands-off, the twins hands-on, and Graham needed something right in the middle. We learned quickly that parenting one child a certain way does not always translate well to another child. Even with Haley’s experience with kids, it was a challenge, but we made it work.

  Gia’s in college now and the twins are right behind her, scheduled to start this fall. It’s hard to believe that at thirty I have three “kids” in college. Graham’s the only one left at home, and he’s officially a teenager. Basically, the fun starts all over again with him.

  Aside from finally being able to build solid relationships with my siblings, my favorite part of the last five years has been Haley. Our marriage may have seemed hasty to most, but I still stand by my vows today. Nothing’s changed there. If anything, we’re more in love now than we were back when the Vegas lights set our hearts afire. Don’t get me wrong—we haven’t had a perfect marriage. It’s been a struggle to map out our own relationship in the midst of raising four kids, but just like everything else, we make it work.

  I run my hand over Haley’s head, trying to calm her cries.

  “This is horrible, Gaige. I can’t believe you got me into this mess.”

  “Hey, it takes two to tango, Nikki.”

  She grins at my nickname for her, something that’s stuck after all these years. Her quick moment of happiness turns to pain as the contractions take over again.

  “Why in the shit did we do this!”

  “Because we’re absolutely insane.”

  “It fucking hurts!”

  “I know, baby, I know it does, but you’re almost done.”

  “I’m with him,” the doctor interrupts. “I just need two more good pushes. You can do this, Haley.”

  My beautiful wife starts sobbing. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t supposed to…” She drifts off, her eyes fluttering shut.

  “Haley. Baby, come on. Hales. HALEY!”

  Then my entire world falls apart.

  I watched the birth of my only biological daughter through a glass-paned window, having to endure seeing my wife lie there lifeless on the operating table.

  During those last two pushes, Haley stopped responding. They said she passed out from the pain and panic of it all. She ended up having to have a C-section, and once that began, I freaked. The doctors deemed me too “unstable” for the room and I was forced to leave. When everything was said and done, I wasn’t surprised by her reaction, or mine. She’d been in a state of dread since we found out she was pregnant. We were terrified everything would fall out from under us. For her to even make it as far into her pregnancy as she had was almost a miracle in itself.

  My friends rallied around me in the waiting room once our miracle baby was delivered, and it was the best support system I could ask for. It took me over two hours to finally kick them out and force them to go home. Hudson refused to leave, but I told him I need some time alone. He reluctantly agreed, leading his tear-stained wife from the hospital.

  “Do you need anything?” the nurse asks quietly from the doorway.

  “No, I’m okay. Thank you.”

  “She’s beautiful,” she tells me. “She looks like her mother.”

  I smile down at my baby girl. “She does.”

  “Get some rest, dad. You’re going to need it.”

  She leaves the room, closing the door and taking almost all the light with her. That’s okay; I have all the brightness I need in my arms.

  She’s sound asleep, her sweet breaths even and strong. I’ve never wanted to listen to someone breathe as much as I do now. I’m scared I’ll wake up and it’ll be a dream, she won’t be here. But she is. My baby girl is here. She’s in my arms and she’s safe, alive. Perfect.

  I don’t know how long I sit and stare at her, but it’s long enough for my arms to start to fall asleep. I lift myself from the chair and carefully place her into her rolling bed, making sure her hat is sitting snuggly against her bald head and her blanket is still wrapped tightly around her.

  “How’s she doing?”

  The voice is croaked and broken, but it’s the most beautiful worn-down voice I’ve ever heard.

  I lean over the railing on the bed and lay a kiss to my wife’s cheek. “Hey, you’re awake. You should be resting.”

  “I know, I know. I’m actually kind of tired of being tired, if that makes sense.”

  I grin. “It does.”

  “Is she adjusting okay?”

  “She’s doing awesome. I even changed her poopy diaper.”

  Haley frowns. “I missed the first one?”

  “You didn’t miss much.” I wink. “She’s down now, been out for a few hours.”

  “Is it bad that I kind of want to wake her up just so I can stare into her eyes?”

  Chuckling, I say, “Not at all. I’ve had that thought myself several times. Want to see her?”

  “Yes, please.” I work with her to adjust her in the bed until she can see over the railing. She groans in pain a few times and I have to fight back tears. I hate seeing her like this, but it’s the most beautiful pain she’s gone through. She knows it too.

  Rolling the bed over to her, I grab our girl out and hand her over to her mama. Silent tears streak down Haley’s face as she peers down at our sleeping angel. Nothing, and I mean nothing, has ever felt so right as this moment.

  “She’s perfect.”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “She has your nose.”

  “No way. She definitely has yours.”

  “She’s perfect,” Haley repeats in awe.

  “I know,” I say. “That’s what I said.”

  We stare at her for as long as Haley can stand to be in that position. When she’s unable to endure it any longer, I put our little girl back in her bed and adjust Haley back down to a comfortable level. I scoot my chair as close to the bed as possible and sit between my two favorite girls.


  “We have to name her, ya know.”

  “I know,” Haley says sleepily. “I have the perfect name.”

  “You do?”

  “Amari Grace Addams. It means miracle.”

  A flicker in my chest tells me she’s right on the mark. “It’s perfect.”

  “She’s perfect.”

  “That’s what I said.”

  I glance over at Haley, watching as she begins to drift off to sleep with a smile on her face. I lean over and grab her hand. She doesn’t move, so I assume she’s out cold. I wrap her hand with mine and kiss it over and over.

  “Thank you, Haley,” I say quietly. “For her. For you. For us. For giving me the future I’ve always dreamed of. For teaching me to live in the now. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’ll never be able to repay you.”

  She opens her eyes and flicks them toward Amari, our miracle. Squeezing my hand tightly, she closes her eyes again. It’s another few seconds before she rasps out, “You already did, Gaige. You already did.”

  THE END

  My Marine, I love you. You astound me. Everything you do for me, for your friends, your country, it amazes me daily. Hands down, you’re the best man I have ever met, and I feel privileged that I get to love you. And I do love you, ya know. Always. Forever.

  sMother, I love you. Thank you for being my rock.

  B, I miss you.

  Jamie, do I have to even say anything? No? Good. <3

  #soulmate, are there even words? You’re such a good friend and person. I can’t believe I haven’t known you forever because I swear that’s what it feels like. I love you.

  Caitlin, my wonderful editor, I loved working with you. You’re patient and kind, and you give awesome feedback. Thank you for everything!

  C, Laurie, Kristann, Jamie, and Nikki, you guys are awesome! Your beta skills just keep growing and growing and I adore you all.

  Colleen Hoover smells and never washes her hair.

  My BS family, I hate you all. And by hate, I mean love. Just don’t fucking spread that shit around, okay? (Except you, C. I still hate you.)