not knowing that her mother had bought it for her right before leaving her behind.
Maybe the kid knew on a subconscious level that it was the only thing she had to link her to the mother who couldn’t handle being a parent. Or maybe I was putting too much thought into a fucking kid’s toy.
I lifted Katie, holding her firmly against my chest. She dropped her head to my shoulder. My heart was in danger of bursting out of my chest. Some days I could barely contain the amount of love I had for my little girl. Some days it felt like it would consume me whole. I hadn’t thought it possible to love another person the way I loved the twenty-five pounds of adorable sass in my arms.
I was a guy that loved hard. It had always been my downfall. Just ask my mother, who warned me that my idealized idea of relationships would only lead to heartache.
“You’re a good boy, Kyle. The best boy. But guard your heart against those who will only crush it,” she had intoned sagely after my first serious heartbreak at the age of twelve. Debbie Colter had been my girlfriend for an entire week. We had exchanged handmade bracelets and everything. Then Bobby Little caught her eye, and that was the end of the epic Kyle and Debbie love story.
That’s not to say I didn’t play the field. I wasn’t some whiney bitch that sobbed into my cornflakes over every female that gave me attention. Women liked me, and I liked them. As long as I kept it casual, I was okay.
It was the ones I loved that had always been the problem.
I grabbed the overloaded diaper bag from the kitchen table and slung it over my shoulder. Balancing my squirmy toddler on one hip, I deftly poured coffee into my thermos and pocketed a baggie of cut-up carrots for Katie’s snack. I was getting pretty good at multitasking. Being a single dad meant juggling a lot of balls at one time, hoping they wouldn’t crash to the floor.
Katie was babbling happily as I strapped her into her car seat. I tucked Fuzzles into her arms and gave her a loud kiss on the cheek. She giggled, kissing her palms and “throwing” it at me. I pretended to catch it and kissed my palm as well.
After I checked Katie was secure and put the bag on the passenger seat, I hopped up into my Ford F-150 and pulled out of the driveway. “Octi! Octi!” Katie demanded from the backseat. I knew exactly what she wanted. I pushed a button on the stereo, and Octopus’s Garden by The Beatles came on over the speakers. Katie had been obsessed with that song ever since my dad had played it for her on the guitar a couple of months ago.
I drove the five short minutes to my parents’ ranch rambler on a quiet cul-de-sac in the center of my hometown, Southport, Pennsylvania. My dad was already up and out front watering his flowers. His garden was a thing of beauty, and he spent more time with his hands in the dirt than he did with his family. It’s because of him I had developed my own love of plants and flowers, which was why I now owned my own landscaping business—Webber’s Lawn Care.
I climbed out of my truck. “Hey, Dad. Already at it, I see?” I called out, unbuckling Katie from the back seat and lifting her out. Seeing her grandfather, she started flapping her arms in excitement.
“Paw-paw!” Her squeal of delight was infectious, and my dad immediately abandoned the hose and came over. He took her from my arms, giving her a loud, messy kiss on the cheek.
“How’s my Katie Bear?” he asked, tickling her sides to make her laugh. My dad was a gruff, hardworking man. His age had done nothing to diminish his large stature—both in size and in personality. He was a guy who had spent his whole life working with his hands as a contractor, and it was only a back injury ten years ago that ended his days of mixing concrete. Now he spent his hours plodding around in the garden and otherwise driving my mother up the wall. Dad wasn’t the kind of man who took to retirement well, particularly when it wasn’t his choice.
He wasn’t the kind of guy to tell you he loved you or dish out hugs. I got my sensitivity from my cookie baking, cuddle