FicWad

And our love could have soared
Over playgrounds and rooftops
Every park bench screams your name
I kept your tie
I've gone wherever you've wanted
I still remember




We sat at a red light two blocks down from Amaya's elementary. I impatiently rattled my thumbs on the steering wheel of the SUV contemplating while Stevie Nicks became the soundtrack to our morning drive. She sat in the backseat howling the bridge to Stand Back. It was needless to say that she was musically inclined. Those traits were proven to run in the bloodline. She had been playing the piano since she was three years of age. She was an active member of the choir in her elementary and head of the chorus at her summer camp. It was something I could tell she truly enjoyed. I knew how talented she'd been when she began learning Fur Elise on her Grandmother's Wurlitzer but I didn't want to become one of those parents. It wasn't my objective to push her to the point where she wouldn't stand to see another sheet of music. If she ever opted to decline from music, I wouldn't care. I wanted to give her all of the support she deserved.

If it were up to me, I'd give her the world on a silver platter if she asked for it.

I turned into the school's parking lot seeing caravans of children spill out of Soccer Mom vans. They were coated with those asinine stick-figure family bumper stickers.

Typical.

Some of them went from one windshield to the other, in vivid detail stood the cat, dog, kids, parents, grandparents, mistress and even the plastic surgeon. They made a point not to exclude anyone for the sake of their Volvo. I, in my three year-old Rav-4, was far from inferior. I knew I wouldn't have anything in common with these ladies. Sure, I've been around silicone before given the nature of my profession several years prior, but these women weren't strippers. I don't even think they worked.

With shades and primped hair, they followed one another in a gaggle. Fake breasts pointed up parallel to their noses molded by doctors. Tight skirts and blouses that hardly fit around the bust line. Their nannies followed suit scurrying behind them not to miss a step or they were to fear for the absolute worst. I glanced in bewilderment as they swarmed through the schoolyard.

I put the car in park trying to develop an elusive plan around the Real Housewives of First Grade. I grabbed my cup of green tea opening the door and taking a sip. I went around to open the door as she unstrapped herself from the booster seat. She jumped down from the small ledge of the vehicle and foliage flew from under her feet. I smiled up at her taking hold of her small hand in mine. We crunched through the schoolyard past the Real Housewives. The cool October wind swept clear past us, uplifting leaves in its wrath to fly and spin. I tugged my unzipped leather bomber closer to my body. We entered the building awaiting to be buzzed in. With my hand still in hers, she twists mine around giving it a soft glance.

"What's that scar on your wrist?" She was referring to the warped blob of excess collagen that sat prone on my wrist. The building buzzed under our feet and directly in my ears, stunning me almost as much as her question. The heavy steel door clicked open as I grabbed the handle quickly with the other hand. How would I explain this to a six year-old? Sometimes I thought she read me, not for the person I am but for who I was. She was the one in my life who'd seen that side of me even when I tried to hide her from the rest of the world. I had no intentions of letting my daughter know that I used to take my clothes off for money and that I met her dad after having a Special K cocktail at a party. It all boiled down to vague answers.

"I trusted the wrong people when I was a little younger," We walked up the stairs to the second floor where her Art room was. "Before I had you." I finished with a smile.

"Was my dad one of those people?" I almost replied with a coarse 'no', but her soft voice wouldn't let me. I thought about the commitment I made that morning. She deserved to know who he was and have a relationship with him. Right now, just wasn't the most opportune time to finish the conversation. She was so eager to know the man she favored and in a way, I felt at fault for this. But I had something up my sleeve.

"How about we talk about this when we get to Ms. Donna's tonight?" We stopped at her the construction paper covered door of her Art Room. I sat kneeling in front of here, eye-to-eye. Her eyes lit up like Christmas trees.

"I thought we were going to the movies." I straightened out her plaid uniform dress looking into those eyes. They comforted me.

"Well, I have a better plan," I winked at her, pulling her into a tight hug. Her pigtails tickled my nose and the scent of berries and pomegranate filled my nostrils. I took a moment to commend myself for not turning out like my own mother. "I love you, Amaya. Have a good day!" I didn't want to let her go today, but I didn't want to let her go everyday. She was my light through everything and the only reason I lived.

"Love you too, Mommy. Bye!" I watched her pigtails bounce into class meeting up with Meghan, her very best friend. I didn't notice the presence in front of me.

"Mrs. Hayward," My head popped its way out of Wonderland snapping to one of the women I tried hard to evade. "You're Amaya's mother, right?" All I could do was nod, trying to lift my eyes from the pillows that were bursting out of her button-down blouse.

"Yeah--yes, I'm Amaya's mom and it's just Miss Hayward, for now." I let out a light giggle. She stared at me, displeased of my wardrobe. Her smile few tight and mannequin-like.

"I'm Veronica Vaughn, Kristie's mom," She held out her hand to shake, taking her eyes off of my Cadette blue scrubs. Kristie was a girl in Amaya's Piano class. She wasn't mean, she wasn't very nice either. She came off slightly stuffy for someone who was only six but it was none of my business. "I was thinking of gathering all of the girls' parents for a dinner date this Saturday. Get to know each other over Mahi-Mahi and cocktails," Mahi-Mahi. I had to look that one up in my Real Housewives Dictionary. I was obviously behind on the times. "I hope it's not short notice." Her tone told me that she was just telling me this so I wouldn't feel bad about not being "invited". I couldn't give two fucks. I had to work, anyway.

"I would love to but I work a twelve-hour swing shift Saturday, so I won't be able to make it," Her face grew puzzled at the word 'work'. "I know, the life of a nurse." I shrugged trying to give off a small hint of sense of humor. She didn't budge.

"How unfortunate," That tight smile grew and all I wanted to do was rip it off of her face but I was a changed woman. She just reminded me of someone I used to know. "Well, maybe next time." She didn't mean that.

"Yeah, next time." Her plastic hand cupped in the notion of a wave as her pumps clicked down the hallway. I scoffed rolling my eyes, making my way down the stairs and out into the Fall foliage.



I had a few hours to spare before I was due in for my shift so I thought to give Donna a small visit. I know she didn't think I wasn't going to find the picture sooner or late. I needed answers, and Amaya needed answers. I wasn't going to let another six years go without her knowing her father, and without him knowing of her. He deserved that much. I was on a mission to hunt him down on tour, make a fool of myself, maybe, but that wasn't getting in my way. There was something more important than my pride at stake and nothing else mattered. I didn't care if we had to drive across the country to find him, I was willing to do that for her.

I pulled into Donna's driveway seeing her Nissan parked on the sidewalk along with a car I didn't quite recognize. It was a red and white Mini Cooper that was pretty new. I shrugged it off to be one of their neighbors' cars. Walking up the driveway, my stomach began to turn. Something in the pit of my stomach danced around and almost left me sick. It was almost that feeling of morning sickness I got when I was carrying Amaya. I then realized I hadn't eaten all of my breakfast. I got to the door, palms sweating and nervous for reasons God-only-knows-why. I knocked softly feeling my stomach do somersaults. Donna answers the door with an exploding smile. What was wrong with her? She'd been happy to see me, usually but this was scarily happy.

"Hey," I greeted calmly, giving her an odd side-ways glance. Stepping into the house. "You okay?" She shut the door behind me. I looked around to see luggage in the corner by the stairs.

"I'm fantastic!" She must have drank the entire pot of coffee again. "What a surprise you're here this early," She grabbed a hold of my arm almost pushing me down onto her couch. Something was definitely up. Her eyes were almost popping out of their sockets with glee. "Is everything okay, Hun?"

"Everything's great, I just need to ask a favor of you," She sat in her seat reaching for the coffee mug but before she could put it to her lips, I'd stopped her. "First thing I ask of you is, no more coffee." Her cackle bounced off the walls as she put the mug down.

"Well, what can I do for you, Hun?" I was almost afraid to tell her, in fear that she may burst into pieces with excitement. Her hands folded neatly upon her lap and that smile, well it never left the surface of her smooth face. I noticed her hair had been pinned up and she was dressed to the nines in clothes I hadn't seen before.

"I need you to tell me where he is," I pull the photograph out of the breast pocket of my scrubs. She takes it into her delicate fingertips. I watched her smile grow like the Cheshire cat. I was almost sure she'd grown stripes and began to disappear with her eyes the last to fade. "Can you do that for me?" She nods slowly. I was officially creeped out. And then something clicked. The Cooper, the luggage, that teaming excitement boiling in the corners of her smile.

"Who's down there, Ma?" Everything came together like one of those holiday jigsaw puzzles my mother made me do to keep me occupied while she shot-up in the bathroom. That voice made my stomach draw tangled knots and my hands shake. My eyes were on the verge of tears and this is exactly why I never listened to the radio these days.

"Why don't you come down and see, son?" My brain tried its hardest to instruct my legs to start moving and run out of the door, but that seat had glued me down for what seemed like an eternity. I couldn't even take my eyes off of the staircase. Donna places her warm hand on my shoulder. My eyes glimmered with so much emotion as I saw two legs covered in a pair of loose black jeans and all black Chuck Taylor's. His feet slowly made their way down at a comfortable place. He hadn't been prepared for this either, I guessed. My mind shot words and expressions around trying to gather what I would say. I know an apology would be perfect but what if he flipped me off and left? What if he denied ever being with me? What if he denied Amaya? These thoughts sent streams of tears racing down my cheeks and that pins and needles sensation shot through me.

And then I seen his face. It was perplexed, to say the least, but soft and very familiar. He was looking a lot slimmer these days, but in a good way. His head still had that mop of black hair, but it was neater and he was clean-shaven. He was perfect.

"Victoria," Those green lights softened at my gaze. I began to tremble and sob softly. Why wasn't he insulting me? I kept his child away from him for six whole years. He should've been verbally attacking me by now. But he was reading me.

"He knows, Victoria." I could hear the smile on her lips. He kept giving me this hopeful look as if he was reading every thought that ran through my the recesses of my head.

"I am so sorry," That was all I could muster until everything I ate earlier slowly rose into my throat. My complexion matched the putrid drapes. The room spun on a tilted axis as everything began to fade.