Chapter
1
I'm sitting in the back of the church watching the
christening of Brian and Leighanne's baby. Kevin and Kristen, the godparents
are standing right next to the proud parents. It's a beautiful ceremony, too
bad I've got too much on my mind to really enjoy it.
After the cermony, I congratulate Brian and
Leighanne. Their daughter is gorgeous. She's got the hugest blue eyes I ever
saw. I could've sworn she smiled at me.
Her name is Brianna Leigh Wallace-Littrell.
"You're name is longer than you are," I
tease the baby.
"That's why we just call her Bree," laughs
Leighanne. I'm really in no place to comment, though. My son's name is Daniel
Howard Colletti-Dorough. He just turned four. I didn't even know of his
existence until a year ago, when his mom hit me with a paternity suit.
That has something to do with why I had a hard time
getting into the ceremony. I never got to see my son get baptized. I never got
to see him when he was born. During the ceremony, I tried to live vicariously
through Brian and Leighanne. I tried to imagine that that was me, Maggie and
Danny up there instead of Brian, Leighanne and and Bree. But the more I thought
of Maggie and Danny, the more depressed I became.
I decided not to go to the party at Brian and
Leighanne's house afterward and decided to duck out before anyone had a chance
to ask if I was going. So, I shook Brian's hand, kissed Leighanne on the cheek
and patted the baby on the head before leaving the church. Suddenly, I felt a
tap on my shoulder. Annoyed, I spun around.
"What do you wa-", I started to say before
I noticed who was behind me. It was my sister, Pollyanna. I had forgotten she
was behind me, forgotten she had been sitting next to me, even. I felt stupid.
"Ever since you came back from Chicago, you've
been walking around in a daze. You better snap out of it," she said. She
obviously wasn't happy about being ignored. We were standing on the church
steps while all the other guests were still inside.
"Look, I'm really sorry, I..." just then my
thoughts were interrupted by something I spotted across the street. It was
enough to shake me out of my daze. I guess you could call it a rude awakening.
"Oh no, Pollyanna, look," I pointed across
the street at a blue Mustang convertible. The top was down and the driver was
plainly visible.
"Oh my god! What's he doing here?" she
asked.
"You're asking me as if I know," I
answered. The poorly kept vehicle belonged to Pollyanna's ex, Jaime Ortega.
Neither she nor I have seen him in nearly five years. We both hoped we would
never see him again.
***
