When I left Nashville, Tennessee, I knew deep in
my heart I wouldn't be back. I knew I would never be heard on every country
music station around the world, and I would never step foot on the Grand Ole Opry
stage. Cold hard guilt and responsibilities that I didn't want forced me on a
different path.
Me being responsible for an eighteen-month-old
was a horrible idea. Me being a second grade teacher in a catholic school was plain
ludicrous.
Life sucked, love hurt, and I didn't know
who to pick.
Kit held up the blue book with white stickers,
spelling out The Bay Bible. “This book will tell you any and everything you
would need to know, right down to a mosquito
bite.”
I blew out a puff of air, cocky air.
“I’m pretty sure I can handle a mosquito bite. I didn’t need a
tab for that one. I’m not stupid, just not made for this daddy
stuff.”
“What you put on your mosquito bite
isn’t the same as hers. You have to be careful with all those chemicals. A little
bit of baking soda and water does the same
thing.”
“Oh, okay, yeah, that makes sense,”
I admitted while I stepped off my pedestal, accepting defeat, the thought of my
grandma using that same home remedy crossing my mind. Nope, didn’t
know how to do this, and I didn’t want to. I was doomed, she was doomed,
and this was a horrible idea.
“You’re going to be
fine.”
That wasn’t what I was worried about. Not
fully. “And what about the girl? You’re trusting someone who has
never been around little kids. Ever.”
“I’m trusting her with her dad, and
stop calling her the girl. Her name is Bay.”
“Yeah, I know. Why you would name a
child, Bay is beyond me. Especially when your last name is
Berry.”
“Hey, I gave her your name. I could have
given her mine.”
“Whatever, it’s still a stupid name.
How much time do I have, Kit? I have to pack up this place, get a job and get out of
the city.”
Kit frowned while her head did this little jerking
thing. Like I had just slapped her across her face. “You’re leaving
Nashville?”
“I know you’ve only seen the ceiling
of my apartment, but I’m sure you noticed the size? Where’s she
going to play? Where is she going to sleep? And, what? Am I just going to make her a
bed in my guitar case while I perform on the streets until two in the morning? Of
course, I’m leaving Nashville.”
“I remember your apartment, idiot, but
where would you go?”
“Idit,” the tiny little voice said from
the bed.
Kit laughed and scolded her with a lighthearted
tone. “You can’t say that.”
“I don’t know yet. I just sent out a
resume right before I called. I’ll let you know when I
know.”
“But what kind of job? I mean what can you
do besides sing?”
I shook my head a little with that one, deciding not
to tell the dumb twit. Not because I wasn’t proud of the degree I had gotten
as a backup plan. It was more because she didn’t think I was capable of such
an accomplishment. She didn’t know shit about me, and it pissed me off that
she was so quick to judge. “Oh, I don’t know, Kit. I bet I could mow
lawns, or maybe change some oil or
something.”
Kit’s frown never changed and she
continued to start each sentence with, but. “But where would
you go? I thought you would stay close to your family. You know, so they can help
with Bay.”
I did the frowning that time. “See, this is
why this is wrong on so many levels. You don’t know me any more than I
know you. My family lives in Michigan. Not Nashville. I came here right after high
school.
“But I met your
sister.”
“Bridgett, yes. She just so happened to be
visiting that weekend. She doesn’t live here. She’s a social worker
back home. Not here.”
I could almost see the air being exhaled as
Kit’s eyebrows sank with both her shoulders. She looked back at Bay,
dumping raisins onto the bed, and back to me. “This changes
things.”
“It does?” I questioned, wheels
spinning like crazy in my head while I tried to contain the
excitement.
“Yeah, I mean I was already having an issue
with how immature you are, but moving her from place to place with no family.
Yeah, I don’t know.”
Normally the immature remark would have
pissed me off, but honestly, it was sort of true. Although in my defense, I had nothing
to be mature about. It sounds selfish now, but at the time, I didn’t really
think about Bay being my responsibility. My duty to my daughter consisted of six
hundred dollars set up to automatically deposit into Kit’s bank account on
the first day of every month. At least, I wouldn’t have to send that anymore.
Surely a baby didn’t cost that much.
“I’m sure we’ll be fine.
I’m not going to move her from place to place. Why do you think I need to
know how much time I have until you fly halfway across the
world?”
“You have no idea how much I want this,
Brantley. It took me months to ask you. I wouldn’t even consider it if it
wasn’t you.”
I didn’t understand that at all.
“Why? I’ve never even been in her
life.”
“Because nobody but you will love her like
I do.”
I didn’t touch that one either. How could
she say that, knowing we didn’t even know each other? “When do you
leave?”
“Six weeks,” Kit replied in a
faraway tone. Her head turned back to Bay and a smile took over her entire
face.
That didn’t give me much time, but it
wasn’t like she hadn’t asked six months before. That’s just
how long it took for her to talk me into it, begging and pleading until I finally caved.
And I still wasn’t one hundred percent convinced. My eyes moved past Kit to
Bay, throwing both hands into the air, calling out some incoherent chant, raisins
scattered all around her. “I’ve never changed a
diaper.”
“She’s doing great on the potty. If
you’re lucky, I can have her out of diapers before you get her. There is one
thing, Brantley.”
“Here it comes.
What?”
“I want her back. You have to sign
something promising to give her back. You can see her and get her on weekends, but
you can’t keep her. I’m getting her
back.”
That wouldn’t be a problem. “Sure,
whatever. I’ll call you in a few days.”
“Thank you so much,
Brantley.”
“Yeah, yeah. See
ya.”
I closed my laptop, seeing my guitar case propped
in the corner. My sad guitar. The one that I would retire for an eighteen-month-old.
What the hell was I doing?
Jettie Woodruff is a lifelong writer, living in a
pretend world since she was a little girl. Jettie spent hours filling pages of spiral
notebooks with a number two pencil and a wild imagination. Her very first story
was a scifi of all things.go ah
Jettie writes more along the lines of erotica now.
She likes to keep her readers on edge, and deliver a story that will pull out every
emotion possible. Writing on the edge of taboo and dark, Jettie hopes to distribute
an adventure you'll not soon forget.
Married for twenty five years, raising two boys
and one girl has left lots of writing material. She has recently become a grandma to
not one, but two of the most beautiful little girls on planet
earth.
Jettie also hates doing this bio. That's all you
get. She loves to read and write. What else is there?
<3
