Giving a last glance to my wife, I leave my bedroom.
My steps halt when I see Mere and Clementine laughing. Mere points to something on her phone and Clementine’s reply is inaudible to me, but they both giggle.
I can’t help the vise that ties around my chest seeing my girl with another woman.
Melanie and I were both only children and Merida doesn’t have any aunts, uncles, or cousins. The only company she sees is when the guys come over.
This scene, so domestic and so regular, is a novelty in our house. It’s been years since such laughter, even for a short time, has filled our home.
“So, you start tomorrow?” My question stops their laughter, which was definitely not my intention. Grabbing the take-out container already placed in front of an empty chair for me, I sit down.
“Yes.” Clementine is now dressed in jeans with rhinestones and a neon-colored hoody.
“Where are you working?” I ask before pushing an egg roll in my mouth.
“Vanshionista,” she replies softly, and my eyebrows rise in surprise.
Now, that’s news. With all the bad blood between Zach Teager and Vanessa Hilbert, Clementine Hawthorne is joining Vanessa’s company?
“Wow! That’s like the biggest fashion house, isn’t it?” Mere asks, and I’m surprised by her knowledge.
Isn’t she too young to know about fashion houses?
“Yes. Vanessa Hilbert is very talented, but she is known to keep her employees on a short leash. I saw a video where she literally pulled a model’s hair on a runway. So, I’m a little nervous.” Clementine pats her head as if making sure her hair is still there.
“I’m sure you’ll do fine and your hair will stay safe.” Mere grins at her, giving me a glimpse of a foreign side of my daughter. “And I love it, by the way. I always wanted to dye mine black.”
“Since when?” I jerk in surprise.
My heart clenches at the thought of another thing she wants to change. Another memory she wants to rob me of. Every time I look at her red hair, I remember how Melanie whispered our daughter’s name for the first time.
Mere shrugs, oblivious to my breaking heart.
She is drifting away from her mother more and more each day.
“I’m not sure.” Clementine peers at my daughter carefully. “It suits you. When you told me your name, I thought it would be a crime to call you anything else.”
The fork slips from my hand upon hearing her words and their heads turn my way.
“Sorry,” I mutter before biting the food which I no longer need.
Thankfully, the topic of their discussion diverts from Mere’s hair to decorating Clementine’s room. But I’m stuck in the memories.
Was I always like this or is Melanie becoming more and more of an obsession?
After sending Mere to her room, I return to my own and grab my phone from the nightstand, making sure I didn’t miss any updates on the abduction case. When I see nothing new, I walk to the closet and change into my sweatpants. As with every other night in the past decade, I grab a rag and dust the side where Melanie’s clothes and accessories are hanging.
Since dinner, my heart is beating like a fucking hummingbird in my rib cage. The rain outside, falling amid thunder, is somehow increasing my agony. I forego the gray cotton T-shirt, check my gun and engage the safety before placing it on the nightstand, and fall on the bed.
Sleep is miles away from me as my restless heart misses my wife.
I turn to the right and see Melanie smiling at me. Her picture so real that I can’t help but smile back. A teardrop rolls from my eye to the side until it’s absorbed by the cotton of the pillow. She feels so close yet so far.
“Have you decided on a name?” I ask Melanie as she finally rests on the bed after an arduous sixteen hours of labor.
“Duh! Merida, what else?”
“Merida?” Now, that’s a surprise. This name never came into any of our discussions while we were reading tons and tons of books on baby names.