Kayla Perrin - Single Mama Drama

The minutes ticked by. A quick look at the digital clock told me it was 12:48. Nearly one in the morning, and I was wide awake.

I needed to fall asleep again. Because, come morning, bright and early, Rayna would be up—and I needed to be rested to deal with her.

I forced myself out of bed and went to the kitchen. There, I opened another bottle of white zinfandel. I’d already had two glasses, but if I was ever going to fall asleep again, I needed another one.

Or two.

Or even three.

I opted for one. I might have wanted to drown my sorrows in alcohol, but I had a two-year-old in the next room who needed me sober and alert in the morning.

I curled up on the sofa, the first piece of furniture Eli and I had bought after putting the down payment on this place. The leather was amazingly soft and supple, the nicest I’d ever felt.

I could still smell Eli in the leather, could still remember how we’d enjoyed lying together on this sofa and watching a movie after Rayna went to bed.

It was irrational, but a huge part of me expected him to walk through the front door, a lazy smile on his face. I even kept glancing in that direction.

Waiting.

And waiting.

As I finished off the third glass of wine, it hit me anew that Eli would never walk through that door again.

I’d never share a bottle of wine over dinner with him.

Never watch him tickle Rayna as she climbed on his lap.

Never have a chance to find out what had sent him into another woman’s arms.

It was that last thought that was the hardest to deal with.

“It doesn’t matter why,” I told myself as I went back to the bedroom. “All that matters is that he did cheat on you. He doesn’t deserve your tears.”

But as I climbed back into the big empty bed, I couldn’t stop the tears from falling. I buried my face in the pillow and cried like a baby.

When the tears ended, anger took over. I gripped the pillow as if it were Eli’s neck and squeezed hard—like I wanted to break it with my bare hands.

My emotions spent and my breathing ragged, I finally sat on the edge of the bed and rested my toes on the cool floor. “Damn you, Eli. Damn you for destroying all our dreams.”

This time, when I lay back against the pillows, sleep claimed me quickly.

Something hard landed on my stomach with the force of a cannonball, immediately jarring me awake.

“Eli, what are you doing?” I asked, my eyes flying open. But instead of Eli, I saw Rayna.

And in that moment, I remembered.

Rayna’s smile was as bright as the morning sun as she beamed at me, pushing any sadness from my heart. “Hi, Mommy.”

Easily, I returned her smile. Oh, to have that childlike exuberance at simply greeting another day.

“Hi, baby.”

“Go Carwa?” Rayna asked.

I glanced at the digital clock on my bedside table. Seven-fourteen in the morning.

Normally, I’d be up and getting ready for work. But my head throbbed from fatigue and a hangover, and all I wanted to do was close my eyes and sleep for another couple hours.

I pulled Rayna close. “How about lying down with Mommy for a while?”

“It’s morning,” she replied, as if the idea of sleeping in was a crazy one. Then she wriggled free of my arms and eased her body off the bed.

So much for sleeping in.

Groaning, I forced myself to sit up. Coffee was the first order of business.

I trudged out to the kitchen. Rayna was dragging a chair from the table toward the fridge.

“No, no, no.” I hurried to her and lifted her into my arms. “Let me get what you need, okay?”

She pointed to the freezer. “Popsicle.”

“Popsicle? Honey, you need breakfast.”

“Popsicle,” she reiterated.

I didn’t bother protesting, and opened the freezer door. In Rayna’s mind, freezies and Popsicles were an essential food group.

“You want red?” I asked.

She bobbed her head up and down.

I lowered her to the floor so I could find a pair of scissors, and cut the top edge off of the freezie. When I handed it to her, she grinned widely and wandered into the living room.

I followed her, sat her on the sofa so she wouldn’t make a mess, then turned on the television for her. Moments later, I was back in the kitchen pouring coffee grinds into a filter.

As the coffee percolated, I went to the bathroom and took two Advil. My head was throbbing, and I knew I’d need them.

I was back in the kitchen, opening the cupboard to retrieve a mug, when I heard, “Where Daddy?”

Glancing down at Rayna, I lowered the mug onto the granite countertop.

“Oh, sweetheart.” I lowered myself to her level and drew her close. “Mommy has to tell you something.”

She extended the empty freezie container to me, which I took and placed on the counter. Then I picked Rayna up and carried her to the kitchen table.

“Daddy gone?” she asked.

Sitting on a chair, I cradled Rayna on my lap. I pressed my lips to the top of her head, inhaling her clean scent. She was so innocent, so fragile. And I had to destroy her world.

“Oh, baby.” I closed my eyes and sighed before continuing. “Daddy is…”

Dead.

No, not dead. I couldn’t say dead. She wouldn’t understand what that meant, anyway.

I wracked my brain for something appropriate to say. “Daddy is…gone away. He didn’t want to leave, but he had to. And now he’s in a place called heaven.” I paused. Rayna was listening intently. “The thing about heaven is that when you go there, you can’t come back. It’s a very beautiful place, with lots of pretty waterfalls and animals. So it’s a place where Daddy is very happy. It’s just that, since he’s there now, he won’t be coming back here. When people go to heaven, they stay there forever. Which means we won’t be seeing Daddy again.” I ran my hands over Rayna’s hair. “But we can’t be sad, because Daddy is happy there. It’s just that we’re going to miss him very much.”

I steeled myself, waiting for Rayna’s tears, but she did something I didn’t expect. She wriggled out of my arms, then looked up at me and said, “Circle cereal.”

“You’re hungry?”

She nodded.

“And you want circle cereal?”

“Circle cereal!” she agreed enthusiastically.

That was her way of describing Cheerios. I stood up. “All right, then. Let’s get you some cereal.”

She ran to the cupboard ahead of me. My daughter hardly ever walked. If she wasn’t running, she was skipping. If she wasn’t skipping, she was galloping.

My sweet baby, I thought as I watched her. She’d just lost the father she adored, and she didn’t understand.

I guess it was a blessing.

At precisely eight o’clock, the telephone rang. I plucked the receiver off the kitchen wall and put it to my ear. “Hello?”

“Vanessa Cain, this is Dean Musselman with CNN. I was wondering if I could schedule—”

“No comment,” I quipped, and hung up.

Dean’s call was only the first of many—six more from reporters, and three from acquaintances who’d heard the story and were calling to offer condolences. Soon, the constantly ringing phone had my head pounding. I took the receiver off the hook and went to the bathroom to down another Advil.

Then I got my cell phone from my bedroom, turned it on and dialed Carla’s number.

“Carla,” I said, relieved when she answered.

“Sweetie,” she said warmly. “How are you doing?”

“I’ve been better,” I replied. Then added, “Understatement of the century.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” I told her. “Please don’t apologize.” I finally understood why some people hated pity after they’d suffered a tragedy. It left you feeling even more helpless in the wake of their sadness.