Southern Sunshine by Natasha Madison
Chapter 2
Hazel
The soft alarm wakes me, and I stick out my arm to grab my phone. I bring the phone with me under the covers and debate if I should get up and work out or just get the extra hour of sleep. I close my eyes, and when the second alarm wakes me, I throw the covers off me and get up.
It’s still dark outside, but the sun is slowly starting to rise. I walk over to the chair in my room, slipping out of my shorts and tank top and replacing it with my yoga pants and sports bra. I grab my water bottle out of the fridge and walk to the exercise bike in the corner of the living room. Turning the television on low, I start riding the bike, and forty-five minutes later, I’m heaving while I walk down the hallway.
Stopping in front of the closed door and opening it, I see it’s still a bit dark in the room. My daughter, Sofia, sleeps in the middle of the bed with the covers kicked off. I pull the door just a bit even though she should be getting up any second now. She has her own alarm clock, and every day at six thirty, she is out of bed. Even when she was born five years ago, six thirty was her time. No matter what time she goes to bed, it’s her inner clock.
I step into the shower, and like clockwork, I hear her walking in right when I’m drying myself off. “Momma." She rubs her eyes as she comes to me.
I look up at my twin and smile. “Morning, baby,” I say, softly kissing her neck. "How did you sleep?"
"Good," she grumbles. “I had a dream of clowns and horses."
I laugh. “Did the clowns ride the horses?" I ask, and she giggles. “Why don’t you go get dressed, and I’ll start breakfast."
"Okay, Momma." She stops in front of me again so I can kiss her. "I want pancakes."
"Okay," I say, kissing her on the lips now and watching her bounce off to get dressed.
I slip on my robe and walk to the kitchen of my condo, opening the shades to allow the sunlight to pour in.
I never thought I’d be a single mom. Not me. I had a plan, and none of that was me being a teenage mom. I could have given up then and there, but instead, it pushed me harder. Not only did I want to achieve big things but I also wanted to do it for Sofia. I never ever wanted her to miss anything, never wanted her to have that thought in her head that because I had her, my dreams were crushed.
So I put my head down and took extra business classes to make sure I would be okay when I gave birth. I took three weeks off and then jumped back into school. My grandfather covered all the daycare bills for Sofia, and I had a small trust fund from when my parents passed away to help with expenses.
My grandfather was my saving grace. I was so scared to tell him I was pregnant and see the disappointment in his eyes. When I was four years old, I was in the car with my parents when they were struck by a drunk driver. They hit a tree head-on, and the only ones who walked away from the accident with no scratches were the drunk driver and me. That day, he lost his only daughter, who he raised by himself after my grandmother passed away from an aneurysm when my mother was ten, and gained me.
"I’m dressed," Sofia says, walking into the room wearing her private school outfit of a pleated skirt and a white polo shirt. She walks over to one of the stools and hops up on it as I take the strawberries out of the fridge and put some on a plate for her.
"Ohh, my favorite,” she says, clapping her hands. “Thank you, Momma."
I rush to make her the pancakes she wants while I mix myself a protein smoothie. I leave her to eat while I walk back to my bedroom and get dressed. I slip on a pair of black pants with a short-sleeved black shirt with white vertical and horizontal lines. Slipping on my black shoes, I walk to the bathroom to apply some mascara and then untie my hair from the ponytail, brushing it once. I’m walking out when my phone rings with a fifteen-minute warning. “Let’s go,” I say, returning to the kitchen to see Sofia putting her empty plate in the sink. "Go brush your teeth,” I say. “I’ll get your lunch." I put my smoothie cup in the sink and rinse it out, then turn to grab both of our lunch boxes out of the fridge.
She skips off to brush her teeth while I put everything in the dishwasher and start it. I walk to the bathroom and find her finishing. I grab the hairbrush. “Two ponytails or one?" I ask, and she holds up two fingers. I brush her brown hair and put it up in pigtails. "Shoes,” I say when the phone alerts me with a five-minute timer.
I find her at the front door, slipping on her blue Mary Jane shoes, strapping the Velcro herself. I grab her schoolbag with my purse and the two lunch boxes on my way out of the house. She stops right beside me while I lock the door and holds my free hand as we walk over to my truck. I press the unlock button to open the back door, and she climbs into her booster seat. I watch her buckle herself in while I put our bags in the front passenger seat. I close the door and make my way to the driver's side.
Pulling out of the complex, I make my way over to her school. “Momma," she calls out, and I look at her through the rearview mirror. “Can we go to the beach this weekend?" she asks, looking out her window.
"We can see,” I say. “We have to go visit a couple of camps. Summer is right around the corner."
"Can we go to the beach after?" she asks, and I smile over at her. When the sun hits her eyes, I can see her father in her.
"Probably,” I say, pulling up to her school and parking. I get out, then walk over and grab her bag out of the front seat before opening the back door for her. She jumps out, and I hand her the backpack and lunch box. I hold her hand as we walk toward the playground. Kids are running and playing, and a couple of the little girls call her name.
Stopping outside of the gate, I squat down in front of her, and my heart fills with so much love. “Have the best day." Tapping her nose with my finger, I hug her and kiss her once, then she turns to walk into the schoolyard. I get up and watch her play with her friends, making a couple of to-do lists in my head.
"Morning." I hear a mom beside me and look over to see the head of the PTA approaching. "I was hoping I would see you this morning,” she says, smiling, and all of her screams fake. "We are having a bake sale at the end of the month, and we were wondering if you could possibly make your special cupcakes and cookies."
"Sure,” I say. “I’ll do a dozen of each."
She claps her hands. “That’s fantastic,” she says. The bell rings, and I watch Sofia line up. Only when she walks inside do I turn and walk back to the truck.
It takes me ten minutes to get to work, which is another reason I chose the school. Parking in the underground parking, I get out and walk over to the elevator. I press the button for the tenth floor when I step in all by myself.
When the elevator doors open again, the wall-to-wall windows on this floor fill the area with light. "Morning, Sara," I say to the receptionist when I walk in and head down the gray carpet to my little office. I put my purse on my desk, then go to the communal kitchen and put my bag in the fridge. Grabbing a mug, I fill it with coffee and walk back to my office.
I sit down and turn on my computer, seeing the company logo boot up right away. I graduated with a bachelor's degree in business in three years instead of the usual four, then took additional courses to graduate and pass the CPA. It was lots of sleepless nights and lots of sacrifices and tears on both sides. Thinking back now, I don’t know how I did it. I think it was the sheer determination mixed with the fact I couldn’t let my grandfather down again.
Luckily, the company where I was doing my internship was expanding their office, so they reached out and offered me a job I couldn’t refuse. I could start after dropping Sofia off at school, and I could leave at four.
A picture of me graduating with Sofia in my arms and my grandfather beside me sits on my desk. I check my emails, making sure my clients have sent me all the papers I need in order to close the files for the month. I don’t even realize how much time has passed when the phone rings. “Hello." I put the phone to my ear, looking at my screen.
"Is this Hazel Bennett?" the male voice asks, and I don’t know why everything in me stops moving.
"This is she,” I say, listening to a voice I’ve never heard before. A voice that will change my life.
"This is Dr. Shepard.” He says his name, and everything around me feels like it’s spinning.
"I’m sorry." I find the words lodged in my throat. “I don’t know a Dr. Shepard."
I hear him breathe out. “I’m a friend and doctor to your grandfather, Kaine Johnson,” he says, and my stomach sinks.
"Is my grandfather okay?" I ask, the panic apparent in my voice.
"I’m so sorry to do this to you over the phone," he says, and the tears start. “Your grandfather has passed away."
"What?" I ask in a whisper. “When?" I wipe the tear off my cheek. “I spoke to him two days ago, and he was fine."
"He had stage four small cell carcinoma,” he says in a soothing voice.
"I had no idea.” My heart breaks in my chest, knowing that, besides Sofia, my last family member I have is gone. "He never said anything."
“He’s been sick a while, but he’s been struggling for the past six months," he says, filling me in, all I can do is sit there numb.“He was admitted into the hospital last week for complications, and we found out it had spread."
I close my eyes, and all I can see is my grandfather and his big smile. I put my hand in front of my mouth. “Was anyone with him when he passed away?" I ask, and it takes him a couple of minutes to answer me.
"He passed in his sleep," he says, and I try to hide my sob. “He had a DNR, and he also refused to let anyone see him like that. The funeral home has picked him up, and he’s being cremated this evening." I don’t say anything because I can’t. I can’t say anything. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Hazel," Dr. Shepard says. “He loved you and Sofia with everything he had."
"Thank you,” I say, “for letting me know."
"If you have any questions or if you need anything …" He gives me his number, which I don’t take down. Hanging up the phone, I’m staring at my desk when someone walks by my office and notices me crying.
"Are you okay?" Caitlyn says, and I just look at her because the shock is still settling in.
"My grandfather passed away,” I say, and she puts her hand to her mouth.
"Oh my gosh, is there anything I can do?" she asks.
I look at her, saying the words I said I would never say. "I have to go home."
