Page 5 of I'm Yours

When Dad found me taking out my anger with an ax as I chopped wood, he pulled me aside and calmed me down. He made me talk to him and explain everything that had happened. I might not have admitted that we slept together, but I think he knew. I explained that I told her I loved her and he cringed, already knowing it wasn’t received well. He said maybe she needed space to think and I needed time to lick my wounds after being rejected. As much as it hurt, I knew he was right. I left for college without saying goodbye to her and turned my focus on my classes. I wasn’t social. I didn’t go to parties or live the life of a single college guy. Until Dad visited and once again, he gave me a speech and did his best to open my eyes.

Unfortunately, the way he opened my eyes was by telling me Sadie was engaged to her ex-boyfriend, Billy. And suddenly I knew a whole different level of pain. It was the proverbial nail in the coffin. That wholeit’s not you, it’s mething — I was thinking it wasn’t me, it was her. I just had to wait. Then I realized I was wrong. It was me. If I thought I’d felt heartbreak when she rejected me it was nothing compared to when I discovered that she’d moved on.

I made the decision to stay away, only visiting during the holidays and staying either on the ranch or in my family’s lakeside home so I didn’t risk running into her. Going into the town rarely happened. Dad and I came to an agreement because he knew how hard it was for me to return to Lakeside. So rather than come back right after college, I’d work, build a life and when I was ready, there’d always be a place for me. I was always going to return. Not just because that’s what Dad wanted but because it’s what I wanted, too. It was my legacy. What I saw for myself from the day I was old enough to help him on the ranch.

My mom was always close with Sadie, but she knew the topic of what Sadie Jones was doing with her life was off limits around me. I still wanted the best for her, though, so I made it clear to Mom that it didn’t bother me if they remained close, I just didn’t want to hear about it. The pain ran too deep. Even after I found love beyond Sadie Jones, I couldn’t bear to breathe her name.

When I got the call from the police nine months ago that my wife Katherine had been in an accident and that I needed to get to the hospital, I had a bad feeling in my gut that never went away. And when I arrived, I knew why. They’d done as much as they could, but in the end, nothing would change the fact that my wife was dead. The mother of my daughter was gone. And then the anger set in, because I discovered that she was too busy checking her social media to pay attention to the road in front of her. A reckless single car accident on a bright sunny day that ended her life.

The stages of grief I went through were swift, though I’ve settled pretty firmly in the anger stage, bouncing back to all the others only to land myself right back here again. Katherine and I were happy. Sure, we had our arguments and life wasn’t always easy for us, but our marriage was a good one and I loved her. Still do. Although, I’m so pissed that she was careless with her life and didn’t think what it would do to Emmy or me if she was no longer with us. All because she couldn’t drive five miles without looking at her phone and seeing what people were up to. It took me a while to realize that I was letting the anger cloud the hurt. It was easier to focus on being mad at Katherine than feeling the hurt of missing her. And I do. Not just for my daughter, either.

“All right, Emmy. I’m up,” I say cheerfully. I need to get out of my own head. Readjust my thinking. I’m lashing out because I’m frustrated and scared. Being a single dad is fucking terrifying.

“Yay! I’m so ready, Daddy! Grandma and Papa are waiting!”

They are definitely waiting. And anxiously, might I add. Mom has been busy getting the house ready for us until we find our own place. Thirty years old, widowed, single dad, living with my parents. Awesome.

But, at this point, it’s what needs to happen. Life hasn’t been fun living in Butte without Katherine. We moved there after college for her to be closer to her mom. And if I was being honest, I never felt like myself here. Too many people. Too many cars. Not enough open space. She loved the city, which is the only thing we really disagreed on. Just like with my dad, though, we made a deal. A compromise. We’d live here for ten years then move to Lakeside. It wasn’t her accepting a fate she couldn’t live with. She wanted that as well. We had two more years here.

In Butte, I owned a semi-successful sporting goods store with a good friend of mine and was a firefighter for the Butte Fire Department. After Katherine passed, I had to step away from the fire department because of the unpredictable schedule. Owning a sporting goods store had never been a dream of mine, but it got me closest to my love of the outdoors as I could while being surrounded by people and buildings. And I actually found that I enjoyed it, even if I hated wearing khaki pants and a forest green polo shirt every day. For the most part, the customers were fun to help and Justin, the friend I owned RJ Sporting Goods (I know, real original name) with, was the best partner I could have asked for. We didn’t make a ton of money, but that didn’t matter to us. We were happy. When Justin and I went into business together, it was always with the knowledge that when I moved back to Lakeside, he would buy me out of my half of the company. He wasn’t thrilled at the prospect, but understood and supported me.

“I’m ready, too, baby. Just let me get some coffee then we’ll start getting ready.”

“I made it already!” she shouts excitedly.

“You did, huh?” A few weeks ago, she asked me how to work the Keurig. The first day after she learned, I was pretty sure I could stay awake for twenty-four hours after she’d fed me so much coffee.

“I did! Just how you like it, too! I didn’t carry it in here, though. It was too full.”

Oh, boy. I can only imagine how many cups she tried to fill into one mug.

I grin. “C’mere.” I grab her around her waist and pull her close, giving her a raspberry on her stomach, making her roll with laughter. Right now, Emmy is my happy. I nestle my face in her neck, breathing in the sweet smell of her body wash from her bath before bed. “Love you, Emmy.”

“I love you, too, Daddy. I’d love you more if we got ready to go to our new home and see Papa, though.”

I chuckle. I’m an only child. My dad was an only child. Which means, Emmy is the only granddaughter and great-granddaughter. That also means all attention is focused solely on Emmy and she likes it just a little bit. Or a lot. Living with her grandparents could be a disaster if they spoil her like I fear they’ll try to.

“Let’s get going, then.”

“Yay!”

She wiggles out of my arms, bounces off the bed, and runs out of the bedroom. I look at the ceiling, taking a deep breath. The movers are coming to load the rest of our belongings into the truck in a few hours. Normally I would take care of it myself, which my dad reminded me of plenty of times, however, having someone else clear out the belongings from the home that I shared with my wife was necessary.

I take a deep breath and throw back the covers and place my feet on the floor, look back at it, and feel the emotion clogging my throat. Fuck, I miss her. As pissed as I am about how she died, I miss her so much it hurts. And my daughter growing up without a mother only makes everything I’m feeling multiply.

I sleep in pajama pants since Emmy has a tendency to wake me up, so all I need to do is throw on a t-shirt before making my way to the kitchen to get my coffee Emmy already made for me. She’s sitting at the counter with a bright smile and box of doughnuts that we picked up last night. We’re out of food in the house because of the move so we’ve been living off of takeout and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for a week. Not that I have stellar cooking skills anyway. Katherine did most of the cooking in our house, but I’ve learned my way around. But still, I feel like a shitty father for the way Emmy’s been eating the past seven days. Too much takeout and food delivery and not enough home cooked meals.

“Here’s your coffee, Daddy!”

One day I’m sure I’ll tire of her excited little voice, but I haven’t yet. She rarely speaks in what most would consider a normal level. She’s such a happy kid and it comes through in her voice.

“Thanks, pumpkin.” She beams a wide smile when I take my first sip and dramatically say, “Ahh, that hits the spot.”

“I knew you’d love it. Can I have a chocolate doughnut now?”

It’s almost as if she was buttering me up with coffee so she could have a chocolate doughnut. I shake my head chuckling, lift my cup to my lips while I lean against the counter, and cross my feet at my ankles. “Sure. Go ahead and have a doughnut. Throw in a banana, too, though.”

“Okay!”

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