After Daisy’s five-month appointment, she joined me in my wood shop to help me put the final touch on the cradle. On the carved banner suspended between two dancing dolphins, she put her hands on mine to carve the baby’s name. Hunter.
“I want a water birth,” she said when we’d finished.
“With dolphin sounds playing?” I asked.
She nodded. “It seems like the thing to do.”
I put my face against her swollen belly and wrapped my arms around her waist. “What do you think, Hunter? Water and dolphins?”
The baby moved. It was the first time I’d felt it and I jumped back, gazing up at Daisy in awe.
“I think that’s a yes,” she said with a laugh.
“Definitely a yes,” I said.
As the sun went down over the sea, dolphins sang and laughed. I held my wonderfully pregnant wife in my arms and kissed her, basking in the joy which seemed to permeate every moment of my life and fiber of my being. Finally, after everything we’d been through, after all the crap we’d survived—finally, we were right where we were supposed to be.
We couldn’t have done it without Hunter. I placed my hand on Daisy’s belly, feeling the baby dance around to the dolphin sounds below. In name and spirit, Hunter was here now. I couldn’t think of a better tribute to his memory than exactly the life we were living.
I knelt down to speak to Daisy’s belly. “Welcome to the family, little Hunter. I think you’re going to like it here.”
He kicked me in the face. I took it as agreement.
Itching for another hot read?
READ TRINITY HIGH
ELLY
This isn’t what I thought I’d be coming back to after summer camp.
Granted, the sun is out. It could be a lot worse. As soon as I get off the school bus, I stop on the sidewalk just to look at it. My new school. Who the hell uproots her daughter right before her senior year and plops her in a new and potentially dangerous environment? A freshly divorced mother, that’s who.
I resent her for it. I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive her, or dad, for that matter. They didn’t tell me anything. I knew they were having trouble… I’m not blind. But they could’ve stuck it out for another year. Why do I have to pay for their mistakes?
Mom moved out and grabbed me along for “a new adventure,” as she likes to call it. I’m two towns over from all my friends and the people I actually care about.
The high school looks decent. Typical suburb establishment, with clean walls and preppy looking kids moving in herds before the first bell. They’re all giving me nasty looks—the kind that say - “You’re not supposed to be here, scab.” I can feel it in my bones, it’s not going to be a pleasant experience.
I’ve got my backpack on one shoulder, my hand gripping the padded strap a little tighter than usual. I’m nervous. Why shouldn’t I be? I’m on foreign, clearly hostile territory. I’m eighteen and not financially independent enough to be on my own, though it’s exactly what I’d like to do right now. Mom thinks I’ll be fine. Dad hasn’t called since he picked me up from summer camp. Fun fact: shortly after he dropped me off at home, he and mom sat me down and told me they were getting a divorce. The selfish bastards…
Sometimes, it’s really hard to love them. Not because I don’t want to, but because they just make everything so difficult. My stomach tightens and I fight the urge to bring my hand down to comfort it. I skipped breakfast this morning, loading up on coffee, instead. I’m not really rebelling. I just wasn’t happy enough with mom to spin around in a bar stool and pretend that everything’s okay while biting into a piece of toast. I’m starting to regret not eating. My stomach rumbles again. Shit, I’d kill for a waffle, right now.
The other kids keep giving me weary glances. Maybe there’s a “Stranger Danger” sign on my forehead? I run my fingers through my hair, thankful that it’s long and red enough to distract from the dark half-moons under my eyes. The depth of the circles are proof that I need a better concealer. I suck in a deep breath and tilt my head back up to the crowd before me.
“What the hell are they staring at?” I mutter to myself, glancing down. I’ve got short jeans, white Vans, a pale-yellow tank top and my washed-up denim vest. It may be September already, but it’s still August-hot. From what I can tell, I’m not outside Trinity High’s fashion norms. Plenty of skimpy summer dresses and spaghetti straps around, from the juniors to the seniors. What makes me so different?
I’m the new girl. I think that’s the deal with these middle-class specimens. Like tigers, they smell new blood. If I’m not careful, if I let my guard down, they’ll pounce. I know they will. Teenagers can be mean, not to mention the seniors, who prefer to call themselves “young adults” these days. Doesn’t really get a lot more pretentious than that, does it?
My phone rings and I briefly check the time. Fifteen minutes until the first class. Brenda’s calling me. I miss her so damn much…
“What’s up, Dougie?” I answer, lowering my voice.
She mimics me to perfection. “What’cha’ doin’, sweet cheeks?”
We both laugh. I love hearing her voice. It’s the most I can get from Brenda, these days. We’re fifty miles apart, but those fifty miles feel a heck of a lot like five hundred. Her parents are always busy, my mom won’t lend me the Mini Cooper to visit Brenda back in my hometown… So,
