that?” I ask my seven-year-old daughter who seems to know something I don’t.
“It’s obvious she likes you, Dad.”
“I will not let you spend any more time with Hannah if you keep talking like a teenager. You don’t even know what that means, Parker.”
“Yes, I do. Men and women fall in love and live happily ever after, and sometimes men and other men and/or women and other women fall in love and live happily ever after too.” Maybe she’s just watching too much Disney.
“You’re right. I’m glad you’re so well versed in what’s important.”
“Someday, I’ll meet someone and fall in love and live happily ever after too, in our palace, of course, in Disney, you know with flowers everywhere and talking birds.” There’s my seven-year-old.
“You will,” I tell her. If daddy doesn’t kill him first. “My only wish is for you to be happy in life, but you need to be an adult to fall in love and live happily ever after.”
“Well, it’s a good thing you’re an adult and Melody is an adult too, right?”
“Okay, why don’t we go over your spelling words on the way to school?”
Parker groans. “Always avoiding my questions.” And that is Hannah, not Parker speaking.
8
After dropping Parker off at school, I take the long way back to The Barrel House so I can clear my head. Everything has been running soundly for the last couple of years. My routine with Parker has been the same, day in and day out for the most part. I wanted that for her. I figure the fewer disruptions, the easier time she’ll have adjusting to life as it unwinds in front of her. I feel this incoming storm coming toward us, inching closer each day when she realizes how much she needs a mother. I’m afraid I’m just not making the cut. I’ve been torn as to what direction to take in my life and be able to fulfill Parker's needs at the same time. I don’t intend to replace her mother with anyone, but if I’m lucky enough to have a relationship someday, it has to be with someone that will be good for Parker too. Of course, there’s never a guarantee that a relationship will work out and I don’t want Parker to get close to someone, only to have them ripped away from her. I can’t let her get hurt again.I’ve avoided taking risks because of Parker, leaving me to a single life I didn’t plan to have. I’m not the type to be content with missing out on the experience of having a wife and a typical family, but I question if it’s a selfish desire on my behalf.
I wonder what Abby would tell me to do. She was always trying to set me up with women. Playing matchmaker was a hobby of hers and I was her favorite playing piece. She was awful at this hobby, had no knack for matching people up. It became a joke after a while. I think she just wanted the entertaining stories at the end of the night when I would come home and tell her how ridiculously awful my date was. Unlike me, Abby had a plan of staying single and loved the thought of doing so. I still don’t understand, even knowing the background of her life that led her to feel such a way. I think if I had been in her situation, I would want the opposite, but I never judged. Maybe somewhere deep inside she knew her life wasn’t going to be that long.
There’s an empty parking spot out front of The Barrel House. Knowing Melody and Journey are inside, I feel the need to walk in the front door again rather than the back way. I don’t want to come across aggressively in this situation and I’m not sure how fragile their feelings are toward me being in Harold’s shop, helping out.
When I walk inside, the bell above my head announces my presence, but Melody doesn’t turn around to see who is walking inside. She continues straightening bottles on a shelf she looks to be cleaning or organizing.
“The shop looks good,” I announce, giving Melody another hint that I’m here.
“Thanks,” she says without turning around. “I’ve been straightening up. The bottles weren’t organized properly, and my dad likes everything to be in good order.”
I inspect the neat rows she’s created, squinting at the year mark on each bottle, realizing they’re no longer in order by age. Shit. “Did you organize these by