His bag sits on my bed, filled with clothes. I can’t keep the smile off my face. Tomorrow night, we’ll be in paradise sipping on cocktails, dancing to native music and sleeping in. The resort caters to celebrities, promising us complete privacy with a private beach not far from our bungalow. The resort staff planned every detail of our trip from our yacht rental to our spa days. We both need this after our hectic schedules.
While I wait for dinner to arrive, I start pulling out my clothes, remembering the dress I stuffed into my bag. I lay that out, fearful of the wrinkles that might set into the fabric. We don’t have fancy dinner plans, but I figure I’ll bring it just in case. A girl can never be too prepared.
I search my bag for my phone, pulling it out to see if Trey has texted. Nothing. I type one out to him, letting him know I’m home and that I’ve ordered dinner.
Trey: Be there soon, honey!
My heart flutters at his term of affection in his reply. He’s my first serious boyfriend… well since forever, really. Sure, I’ve dated since coming to Hollywood, but nothing ever took off. Being an actor or actress and trying to date really does take much more effort than any other relationship. We work odd hours, travel all the time, live out of suitcases and use video chat to see our significant others. It takes someone special to understand our jobs.
When I first moved here, the first piece of dating advice I was given was don’t date within the industry. That made it a bit harder, but I stayed away from actors. Instead, I dated musicians, people who worked on film sets, guys from different agencies, you name it; if they’re in the “movies” I’ve probably spent a month or so of my life with them, only to have them break-up with me because I’m never free. I thought I would be alone until I met Trey.
Trey has made everything different. While we still have to schedule a time to see each other, it’s become like a game for us. When I bought my condominium, I didn’t hesitate to give him a key, assuring both of us that he’s more than welcome. Honestly, there’s nothing that makes me happier than when I come home after a long day on set and find him fast asleep in my bed.
The doorbell rings and I rush to answer it. The local Chinese place is notorious for ringing once and leaving. I swing the door open and catch my breath. “Good, you’re still here.” The delivery driver rolls his eyes and hands me the slip of paper to sign. The smell of the food has my stomach growling. I don’t know if I’ll be able to wait for Trey to get here. “Thanks,” I say as I smile at him. The young kid hands me the bag of food and stalks away without a single word. “Merry Christmas,” I yell out, but he says nothing in return.
“Where’s your spirit?” I ask as I close the door, only to remember that I have none according to the lack of decorations. “Next year,” I mutter, walking into the kitchen. “Next year, I’m going to decorate and have a party.”
The thought of a party has me checking my film schedule for next year. I block off the weekend before the twenty-fifth and add “party” to that Saturday. I’m going to be festive next year if it kills me.
Two
Aiden
The alarm on my bedside table goes off. I let it beep while I stare up at the ceiling. “Another day,” I say to my empty room before shutting it off. Throwing the covers back, my feet touch the somewhat cold floor. The threadbare carpet needs replacing, among other things. It’s on the long list of things I need to do to upgrade this house.
Heather and I bought this place because of the yard. We wanted to give Holly a yard to play in that was safe, and where she could create her own adventures. Also, the land afforded us a place to build a larger garage to store our sixty-five Ford Mustang and a bay for me to tinker with another car. We put the inside of the house on hold, for what seems like forever now.
My bed creaks as I push off it to stand. I stretch and do the yoga poses my physical therapist suggested after I hurt my back on the job. Of course, I only do them for a few minutes and not the thirty that was recommended, but they’re done nonetheless.
In the hall, the faint sound of Christmas music plays from Holly’s room. I knock lightly on her door and hear her scramble to get out of bed. As she has gotten older, we’ve set rules about personal and private space. She needs it, and so do I, but I have reserved the right to bust in without a warrant if I so choose.
“Morning, Daddy.” Her toothless smile beams up at me. She’s my life, and the reason I get up in the morning. Without her, I don’t know where I’d be. I take in her attire. Thermal pants, a sweater, socks and there’s a nightgown somewhere because I can see the bottom hanging down.
My house is cold, and weatherizing it was and has been at the top of my list, but there’s always something that pushes it down. Of course, the big ticket item is my living room. It lacks flooring. I made the mistake of tearing up what was there, thinking I had the money to put down new hardwood. Who knew one simple mistake in the checkbook can change everything? Not to mention the furnace went out and replacing it was a must, which honestly defeats the purpose if my windows and doors have drafts.
“Good morning, punky. Are you ready for breakfast?” She nods and reaches for my hand. This has been our routine for almost two years. It started when she was five, and I dread the day it stops because I look forward to this moment each morning.
Our kitchen is probably the nicest room in the house. It was remodeled before we purchased and thankfully doesn’t need to be touched, although there are features I’d like to change, like the color of the cabinets and the flooring. Someday. That is what I tell myself every day. Someday I’ll have the money to fix each project.
Holly climb
s up onto one of the bar stools at the end of the island and starts fiddling with some kid meal toy she got when she was with my sister yesterday. If it weren’t for Meredith, I don’t know how I’d be able to do half the stuff I do now, like maintaining a full-time job. As is, I’ve had to ask for special consideration so I can be off by five most nights, but I try to volunteer for overtime as much as I can because we need the money. Not that Holly would ever know. Anything she asks for, I do what I can to get it for her.
“What do you want for breakfast?” I ask as I open the cupboard. Her options are limited, and she knows this. Still, she pretends to think.
“Toast and cereal.”
“You got it.” On Sunday, after church, we’ll go to my parents for brunch but always stay until dinner. A home-cooked meal with my parents beats the boxed dinner I’d end up making. I repeat my mantra as I pour her cereal and her slice of bread toasts, and as I make our lunches for the day. Once the toaster pops, I pour the milk, so her breakfast isn’t soggy. “Here ya go.”
Holly smiles. “Thanks, Daddy.”
While Holly eats, I get ready for work, swapping out my flannel pajama pants for sweats and a t-shirt and throw on a hoodie to keep me warm. Everything I need for work is at the station, in my locker, along with my service weapon. I have an off-duty piece, but since I rarely leave Ramona Falls and our crime rate is very low, I rarely carry it and keep it locked up, so Holly doesn’t come across it.
Holly yells that she’s done and I ask her to meet me in the bathroom. I try not to hover, but want to make sure she’s brushing her teeth properly, so I make it a race. She has yet to figure out that we’re racing against nothing because we both brush until the egg timer goes off, yet she wins each and every time. I know one of these days she’s going to call me out for it. I just hope it’s not anytime soon.
Never in my life did I picture myself as a single dad. I’m standing behind Holly, watching as she struggles to put her hair in a ponytail. I wish I had learned this from her mother before she left. She took the time to master the smallest details when it comes to raising a daughter, but I didn’t.
“Do you want me to help? I saw a video on the web the other day of a dad who used the vacuum to suck his daughter’s hair up so he could put the elastic band on it.”