Life Doesn't Come with a Road Map

At the very least, relationships are complicated.

Which in no way even begins to explain why I was delivering the eulogy for my two best friends on a sunny summer morning.

The church was packed--as could be expected when two local young people meet an untimely demise in Small Town, U. S. A. It's what we do especially well in the Midwest--come together in a tragedy.

Milo and Marianne Dockery, both 25, were the victims in this tragedy, and for most of our lives together, my two best friends. With the exception of their immediate families, nobody knew the two better than me, so I suppose it was only appropriate that I was the one memorializing their short lives.

When Marianne's mother, Phyllis, called me two days earlier with the news of their deaths in a car accident, I was stunned into silence, save for the sobbing on my end of the phone. After we both cried for several minutes, there was no way I was going to turn down her asking me to give the eulogy.

"It's what all four parents want, Jude--both Milo's parents and Patrick and me. With that one exception, no one was closer to both of them. No one loved them more than you, I think," Phyllis said. "Just tell everyone what's in your heart."

She didn't have to tell me that I could leave out that one exception. I had plenty in my heart to talk about that was good. Milo, Marianne and I had finally worked out that one exception, and there was no way I was going to revisit the worst moments of my life--up until Phyllis' phone call.

I had prepared a formal eulogy that I started to read, but memories and emotion soon got the best of me, and I started to cry while going off-script and telling spontaneous memories. For a quick moment, I was cognizant enough to hope that I wasn't embarrassing myself too badly. I took a glance at the front row and saw all four parents smiling sadly and crying, so I must not have been doing too badly.

I have no idea how long I talked. When I practiced my written eulogy the day before, it was close to five minutes long. This version: no idea. When I finished speaking, I sat down in the second row, in between my parents, and I felt both of them hugging me hard.

I don't know exact details of the rest of the service. The only thing I do remember is the sight of 6-year-old Dani, the daughter of Milo and Marianne and my goddaughter, throwing a handful of dirt on the graves after they were lowered to their resting place. Blonde and beautiful like her mother, she then walked off with her grandmother, Phyllis. I wondered briefly which set of grandparents would wind up raising her.

******

Milo and I had already been friends forever when Marianne's family moved onto our street when we were six. Milo and I were sitting on my front porch when the moving van and a car pulled up to the house formerly owned by the Dahlstrom family, which was in between the Dockery family home and my family's home. I don't know about Milo, but I know I felt my heart jump when a pretty blonde girl about my age got out of the car after an older sister.

The blonde girl was wearing a dress that day, but as we were to find out quickly, that was an aberration. Most of the time she dressed like Milo and I did, wearing T-shirts and jeans, and we quickly learned she was a tomboy--she could throw a baseball better than Milo and she was rougher than Milo when we got to wrestling around the yard playing WWF. If it wasn't for the mid-back length hair, most people would have thought we were the Three Musketeers: where you saw one, the other two were surely around somewhere close. It wasn't uncommon for all three of us to eat together at one of our houses, and at least until we got to about 10, for the three of us to also sleeping bag it at one of our houses.

I remember we were all pretty put out when Marianne's parents told us she couldn't have sleepovers with us anymore because it wouldn't be proper; I think all of us were told about "the birds and the bees" that weekend. We all kind of walked around in our own little dazes for a few days, but eventually we got back to our usual selves, minus the sleepovers, for another three years.

I guess we were about in seventh grade when the world started changing for us. It seemed like overnight Marianne developed breasts and curves and started to dress more like the other girls. She also started hanging out with other girls, often leaving us short a player for baseball and football. I'll admit Milo and I were especially put off by that... until a few months later.

I can't exactly remember the first time I realized Marianne was... a creature from another planet. All I remember about that was the strange, glazed look in her eyes when she first was introduced to Frank Tomicelli, a kid who had just transferred into our junior high school. Her face got red and she suddenly got tongue-tied, a first for her. Milo and I were with her at the time, and it was like she forgot we were even there. I wasn't sure why at the time, but I was more than a little upset over this development.

Marianne found all sorts of reasons to not hang out with Milo and me for the next week or so, but she seemed to always be in among a group of girls hanging in proximity to Frank. I mentioned this to Milo a time or two, but he seemed not to notice, much to my consternation.

I waited a full week before I got the guts to talk to Marianne about the situation. She didn't make it easy on me, pretending not to know what I was talking about. I did a lot of stammering while trying to explain myself, then finally something snapped inside of me and I moved to her and kissed her--right on the lips! It was terrifying and marvelous all at the same time. Her lips were warm and soft, and after a second or two, she started kissing me back.

Our eyes were locked together as we kissed. I don't know about her, but my whole body was tingling. I wasn't sure what I was seeing when we finished our kiss and broke apart. Honestly, I thought she was going to punch me, but she just said, "Wow!" and wrapped me in a hard hug. I guess after that, we were boyfriend and girlfriend, because we held hands all the time and we kissed a lot when we thought nobody was looking.

Of course, Milo was the first to know about our new status because he was always with us. At first, we kind of felt bad for him that we had each other and he was now the odd man out, but he was so unassuming and nice that he stuck with us and we were still sort of The Three Musketeers.

Marianne still being tight with Milo paid dividends for him because she spent a lot of time fixing him up with her friends as we moved through junior high and high school. Marianne was a popular girl, and she had a lot of pretty friends. Milo always seemed to have a pretty girl on his arm in those years, and Marianne and I often double-dated with him and his girl of the month.

Life sometimes gets in the way of living, and such became the case for Marianne and me after graduation. I was a pretty good student and had gotten a scholarship to attend South Dakota State University to major in animal science. Marianne was going to major in art education at Purdue Fort Wayne, which was about a half-hour away from home, so she didn't have to live on campus.

By this time, Marianne and I had given our virginities to each other. Like so many others, that happened on prom night of our senior year. Obviously, it was something I would remember for the rest of my life, and I thought she would, too.

We spent the entire summer discussing our relationship. We both knew the odds of us staying together weren't good. Ask around, there are very few relationships that survive four years of college separation. We decided to try to be sensible. We decided we would date others during the school year, but we would be together on holidays and breaks. If one of us were to find our soul mate during this time, we would tell the other and end our relationship as friends.

Milo had begun working for his uncle's construction company soon after graduation, so he was staying in town as well. I had asked him to keep an eye on Marianne. We were all still friends, and although I didn't want any details about her dating habits, I asked him to make sure that no harm came to her, as in nobody would ever put their hands on her. Of course, he agreed to that.

Marianne and I talked on the phone or Facetimed several times each week. I had two dates by Christmas break, and she told me she had "several." We spent a lot of time together during the break, but could only get away twice to have sex. We still seemed to be in sync, and even talked about plans for the coming summer break.

I guess I wasn't paying too much attention to my mother when I got home for spring break a couple of months later. She seemed somewhat jumpy when I walked in the house in the middle of the afternoon, put my stuff in my room and said I was going over to see Marianne.

"Uhh... are you sure you don't want me to make you a sandwich or something first?" Mom asked.

"Nah. Mare said she has something we need to talk about. I'm thinking it's some plans for summer," I said.

"Uhh... okay," Mom said quietly.

I walked next door, and life as I knew it ended when Marianne opened the door and I saw a very pronounced baby bump that couldn't have come from my Christmas vacation visit. I just stood there, my mouth hanging open like a fucking mute puppet for several seconds.

"Oh fuck!" I finally whispered as her eyes teared up.

I have no idea how long I stood on her porch and stared. I felt my hands ball into fists. I knew I wasn't going to hit her, but somebody sometime was going to get pounded.

"Come on in. We don't need to do this out here," she rasped.

I watched her pregnant belly as I walked past her into the house. Her mom came over to me and gave me a wordless hug. I walked over to the sofa in the living room and flopped down, my world suddenly tilting at a precarious angle. She sat down on the end of the sofa, just out of my reach. I couldn't take my eyes off her pregnant belly.

"How... no... who?" I asked, my voice sounding like it ran through a cheese grater.

She grimaced, tears rolling down her face. My vision blurred as I felt tears build up in my own eyes. She dropped her eyes to the floor.

"Milo," she whispered.

I put my hands to my head to try to keep my brain from exploding.

"Milo. Our Milo?" I rasped, my brain not wanting to accept the fact that I only knew one Milo.

She nodded.

"He's a dead man," I whispered.

"It took both of us," Marianne said. "I'm sorry, Jude."

I sat staring into nothingness for several long seconds before my brain re-engaged.

"Hell, I was barely out of town before you two started fucking. Did you know you were pregnant when I was home at Christmas?"

"I didn't even realize I missed my period until after you went back to school. I was probably four to six weeks along when you were home. The doctor says I'm about 25 weeks," she explained.

"Wh-when did you two start fucking?" I queried.

She looked like she wanted to throw up.

"September. Mid-September the first time," she said quietly.

"Damn. You two didn't wait very long," I growled. "It was you who said that we could be responsible to each other, and just date a bit and be responsible. Hell, you didn't even let me know..."

It struck me then that she wasn't the only one who didn't let me know. Her, Milo, her parents, his parents and, yes, my parents. My own fucking parents lived right next door. They had to see her every day... and none of them said anything.

"Did you two fuck while I was home over Christmas break?" I asked, my voice having come back to me.

She dropped her head, not just her eyes. Question answered. Fuck.

"Did you two ever fuck before I went to SDSU?" I snarled.

"Of course not. We were together. I would never do that to you," she said.

"At least that's something," I replied.

I got up from the sofa and went into the kitchen where Marianne's mother was sitting at the kitchen table.

"I know she's your daughter, but you and Patrick have known me forever. The least you could have done was tell me, the same as my own parents could have. But that's a discussion for a few minutes from now," I said before walking out of the house.

By the time I got back to my house, my anger was through the roof. My own parents knew about Marianne's pregnancy and kept quiet.

Maybe it was because I practically ripped the front door off the hinges that gave Mom the hint I was a tad--maybe a tad and a half--upset. She looked like she was going to say something, but I didn't give her the chance to speak.

"Really, Mom? Marianne's been running around with Milo for months, and you don't say anything? She gets knocked up and you and Dad become mute? I know we decided to stay fluid on the relationship, but... come on... you should have said something. SOMETHING, DAMN IT! It's bad enough the two of them played me for a fool and both sets of parents went along with it, but you and Dad, too?"

It was a few minutes after 5, so I went to my front door and waited until I saw Milo come home, then walked over to his house as he was getting out of his car. He must have been warned by Marianne, because the minute he saw me he raised his hands in surrender and started backing up, pleading for me not to do what he knew I was going to do.

I was surprised when Milo didn't try to run away, but he knew I was faster than him, bigger than him and stronger than him.

"You piece of shit. You were my best friend. I don't care Marianne and I weren't going out anymore, you of all people should have stayed away, just because of who we were to each other. Failing that, you should have manned up and told me you two were dating. I could have figured the rest out. But to knock her up and not say anything... you really are a piece of shit!" I yelled at him.

When he shrugged like a deaf-mute, I clocked him in the face, bloodying him and knocking him down. I then kicked him right in the chops, causing him to scream in pain and then throw up.

"Can't say I blame you," John Dockery said as he came up on my right side. "I'm sorry for not saying something, too. But now you're done, Jude. Go on home now, son."

I walked home as John picked his son up. I heard him call Milo "a piece of shit for a friend."

Both Milo and Marianne and their parents attempted to talk to me several times over the next few weeks, but that wasn't happening. They asked my parents to intercede for them, but my parents were very reluctant to do that. They did tell me that Milo and Marianne were getting married in a small ceremony in a couple of weeks, and both wanted me to be there. Yeah, like that was happening.

I was back at SDSU when my parents told me that Milo and Marianne had a healthy baby girl in late October. After a lot of reflection, I sent a baby gift to them. I was surprised when I got a photo and a thank you card, with a note informing me that "Uncle Jude" was listed as the baby's godfather, with Marianne's younger sister Ellie listed as godmother. I was both pissed and flattered. I knew that they were trying to apologize of sorts.

I took internships instead of going home the next two summers. I knew that if I saw the two of them in person, I would end up in jail. I hadn't hurt Milo nearly enough, physically, and I knew that if I saw Marianne, I'd wrap my fingers around her neck and just keep squeezing until she stopped breathing. I was nowhere near being able to forgive either one at the time.

In the meantime, Uncle Jude got cards updating me on my goddaughter's progress every few months, and I made sure to send birthday gifts both years. Maybe I was a dumb bastard, but I couldn't blame the innocent child.

They say time is a great healer, and I guess they are right. I surprised myself by eventually starting to miss both of my former best friends as my anger slowly receded.

Forgiving my parents for deceiving me took the longest. I was raised to believe my parents always had my back. I was crushed to find out that their love for me was a casualty of convenience.

The Christmas before I graduated, we finally had a come-to-Jesus meeting. In the end, my father apologized to me for not having enough guts to ignore my mother and do the right thing. That was the first time in my life my parents had ever disagreed in front of me. My mom wasn't happy with my dad, but when I forgave him, she eventually relented and apologized as well.

Both of my parents made the trip to Brookings, South Dakota, for my graduation the next year. We then drove back to Indiana so I could get anything from my room I wanted for my apartment in San Antonio, Texas, where I had gotten my first real-world job after graduation.

Before I left for Texas, I called Milo and asked if I could see him and his family. It was time for me to make peace with the past and also see my goddaughter. Of course, they agreed.

My goddaughter, Emily, was absolutely beautiful; at just under three, she reminded me of Marianne when she moved in next door to my family. The two of us bonded instantly. The soft, plush stuffed dog I brought with me may have had something to do with that.

I spent four hours with them as Marianne made us a nice dinner. She and Milo must have apologized to me 50 times in the first hour, until I finally told them that we all needed to move forward. The rest of the evening went well as Emily was the star of the show, and she knew it.

I knew I was going to come back repeatedly in the future. I was pleased--again, sort of--to see that Milo and Marianne seemed to have a good marriage. I had come to the realization that if I couldn't have her, I was glad that my best friend could.

My coming to terms with Milo and Marianne also paid dividends for my relationship with my parents, which had been damaged badly when I found out they had kept silent about Milo and Marianne's relationship and subsequent pregnancy. They, too, had apologized repeatedly for their role in my painful circumstance.

Once our friendships had been repaired, I made yearly trips home to see Milo, Marianne and Emily, as well as my parents for the next three years... until Phyllis called me with the horrible news about three months after my last visit home. Milo and Marianne had been to a concert in Indianapolis. There was a lot of speculation by the accident investigators as to what actually happened, but the upshot was that Marianne somehow lost control of their SUV and drove off the highway. Hopefully, the two died quickly without suffering too much.

Once I got over my initial shock when Phyllis called with her bad news, I inquired if Emily was with her parents when they died. I was relieved to find out that she had been with her grandparents. She was the first person I went to see when I drove home from the Indianapolis airport. We cuddled and cried at her maternal grandparents' house.

My plan was to hang around for several days after the funeral, so I was at my parents' house when Phyllis called me and told me I had to meet with both sets of Emily's grandparents before I went back to Texas. She had me worried when she asked if I was free immediately, which I was. She told me to bring my parents along if they were free, too.

My parents and I walked over, and after the quick pleasantries, Patrick started things off by telling us that both sets of parents had gone through Milo and Marianne's important papers, including their life insurance policies, and had found legal papers that indicated that Milo and Marianne wanted Emily to be raised by... me... if I would agree to take her.

Wait. What? I heard the words, but that couldn't be right. Could it? I definitely loved the child, but I was a single man without any real clue as to how to care for a child.

"Jude? Jude, honey, did you hear what Patrick just said?" my mother asked me in a shaky voice.

I was pretty sure she was a shook up as I was.

"Yeah, Mom. I heard," I replied. "Can I see that, Patrick? Not that I doubt you, I just want to see the words."

He silently handed me a piece of paper that had signatures from both Milo and Marianne, a local attorney and a notary stamp.

"Son of a bitch," I said barely above a whisper. "They never told me."

"We totally understand, son. Don't feel like you have to do this," Patrick said. "We and Milo's parents can share responsibilities. We're all young enough and healthy e..."

"No. No. That's not what I mean," I interjected. "I'd be honored. I just didn't know they had so much trust and faith in me."

I started to choke up. Mom was already crying, as were Phyllis and Lisa Dockery.

"Let's think about this a minute, Jude. You're a single guy and have never raised a kid before. I'm pretty sure that we could do a better job raising Emily," Phyllis said through tears.

"I can do this. They wanted me to do this. I want to do this. I'll learn as I go," I said.

It dawned on me that both grandmothers were probably crying because they felt they would be losing their granddaughter. I assured them that they could visit us in Texas as often as they wanted.

"Can't... can't you find work here in Indiana? We could help out with babysitting that way, and we could still see her all the time," Phyllis whined.

I knew the easy play was to let both sets of grandparents raise Emily, and I could have checked occasionally from my role as godfather. That's not me, though. There was a reason that Milo and Marianne wanted me to raise their daughter, and even if I didn't know it, I was going to do my absolute best to honor their request. That was me. Fuck easy.

Phyllis went to get Emily, who was playing over at a neighbor's house while we all talked. Her life had been completely turned upside down in the last several days, and I could see she was expecting more bad news when she walked into the room where we all were... until she spotted me. She ran right over to me and launched herself onto me, yelling happily as I caught her in my arms. Her happy squeals then turned to big sobs, and I crushed her small body to mine for the next several minutes.

Phyllis had apparently appointed herself spokesman, because once Emily stopped crying and settled herself on my lap, Phyllis started talking to her. She gradually worked up to the reason we were all there: the decision by Emily's parents to have their daughter raised by me if something should happen to them.

"Really? Mommy and Daddy wanted me to go with Uncle Jude? Are we going to stay here, or go to Texas?" she asked in rapid succession.

I turned her to face me. I could tell she was confused, and maybe a little scared of what the future was going to bring. I couldn't blame her. She seemed to have a perfect life going until a few days earlier.

"Your grandparents found a legal paper saying that your parents want you to come live with me... if I wanted to have you... and if you want to come with me," I said. "I know this would be a big change for you, but if you want to, I'm up for you and me being our own little family."

"Would I still be able to see Grandma and Grandpa... and Grandma and Grandpa?" she asked looking at one set of grandparents first, then the other set.

"Not quite as often, but yeah, you would still be able to see your grandparents. They can visit us, and we can come back here sometimes, too," I said.

She relaxed back into me and smiled. I took that as a good sign. Then her face kind of crumbled.

"What about when you get a girlfriend? Are you going to send me away then?" she questioned.

It was my turn to smile.

"No. You and me are going to be family. Family comes first... always," I said. "I'd probably have to find a babysitter on some nights, but you're not going anywhere."

"I wouldn't need a babysitter. I'm seven, remember," she said, trying her best to sound older.

"Yeah, well consider the babysitter thing a quirk of mine. I'd be new at this parent-type thing. I'm going to have to grow into this. I'd guess we'd both have to grow into this. I'm game if you're game."

I stuck my hand out for a handshake. She looked from my hand to my face before putting her hand into mine.

"Deal," she said.

She climbed off my lap to go watch television in the family room. The rest of us continued to talk about my raising Emily.

I was scheduled to leave two days later, so all of us hustled to make sure I had everything of Emily's that I would need from Milo and Marianne's small home. It was the next day when Phyllis handed me a large manila folder of papers related to Emily, including her birth certificate and medical records. Absentmindedly, I pulled a couple of papers of medical records out and quickly perused them, just to see what I was holding. I was about to put the papers back when I noted that Emily had A-positive blood. I froze. From donating blood at several blood drives in high school, I knew Milo and I had the same blood type--B-positive, and that Marianne was O-positive. It didn't take a genius to do the math--or in this case, science.

I felt Phyllis' eyes on me.

"Did Milo know?" I whispered.

"No," she answered just as quietly as I asked. "I'm the only other one who knows. Even Patrick doesn't know.

"Mare had another boyfriend in addition to Milo right after you left. He didn't know. I don't know who it was, but I found out about him by accident. When I found out she was pregnant, I asked if she was going to tell Milo about the other guy. She told me the other guy looked enough like Milo that nobody ever needed to know. She wasn't going to even have the baby DNA tested, but I convinced her she at least needed to know in case of emergency. So she had the testing done.

"I have never told a soul. This would crush John and Lisa, and there's no reason to do that. I don't think we even need to tell Emily unless something crazy comes up some time in the future."

"Damn. I don't like it, but I'll keep my mouth shut as well. There's no reason anyone else ever needs to know. Got to tell you, though, that if Marianne were here now, I'd slap her a good one. Bad enough what she and Milo did to me, but another guy... and she doesn't even tell Milo? Your daughter was cold, Phyllis, and..."

She blushed, clearly embarrassed, as she should have been.

"Yeah. She at least stopped with this other guy when she found out she was pregnant," Phyllis said.

"At least she said she did. But did she really?" I asked.

Phyllis looked surprised. I know she took her daughter at face value and didn't push. She shrugged helplessly.

I was surprised, although I probably shouldn't have been, when we went to Milo and Marianne's home to get Emily's stuff to take back to Texas. There were no dolls and very few dresses, but a lot of sports stuff and jeans. I guess she was every bit the tomboy her mother was as a young child.

I told her she could choose what kind of bedroom she wanted at my apartment. She chose sports, with the Chicago Cubs her team of choice. So we found Cubs wallpaper, a Cubs lamp, a Cubs blanket and a bunch of Cubs tchotchkes. She was one happy amigo.

She was also pleased when she found out I played baseball in a Sunday rec league. I had missed several games due to everything that had recently happened, and I considered just dropping from the team, but Emily told me I couldn't do that because I would be letting down my teammates. She told me she would happily sit in the stands with one of the other guys' wives and cheer me on. My teammates were happy with that, because while I was an average hitter, I could "go get the ball" as a center fielder.

The ballfield we played at had a small kids' park attached, so usually one or two of the moms would watch any kids playing there, but Emily said she preferred to watch the game, so I got her a hot dog and Coke and parked her next to my buddy Rich's wife. Except for a quick restroom break, she sat and watched the game like she was a scout looking for the next Mike Trout.

I heard her high-pitched scream for me when I got a single in the seventh inning. We won the game, 4-2.

Normally after a game, we went over to a near-by Pizza Hut for some pizza, beer and pop, and since Emily seemed to be up for that, we went. She hung out right next to me most of the time, but I also saw her conversing with several boys in her age group. I was watching her interact with the boys when Rich's wife, Carmen, leaned over to me and told me to "Relax, Dad. She's only seven. There will be plenty of time later to worry." I nodded and smiled. So it begins, I thought to myself.

Maybe it was because she was seven, but I found Emily to be super-adaptable to the new situation in which we found ourselves. Yeah, she had her tearful moments when she thought about her parents, but I think she adapted better than I did. In fact, there were several times in the next year where she came over to give me a hug of comfort in a tense situation.

"Mom always told me that men don't adjust to change as well as women, so I knew I'd need to help you out, Uncle Jude," she said one time, sounding way older than her seven years.

We had some re-adjusting to do when school started up in mid-August. She was now a second grader, and there was girls' soccer. She was surprised when I explained to her that the teams were now gender-specific, as opposed to rec league sports, which were just age-specific.

A week later, one of her coaches came up to me when I went to pick her up after practice. The teacher seemed a little nervous when she approached.

"Umm... you're Emily's uncle, right?" she said as she walked up.

I nodded affirmatively as I stuck my hand out.

"Jude Bannick. You are?"

"I'm Miss Templeman," the young blonde woman said. "Can I ask you a question? Is Emily always this... aggressive? I mean, she's... rough. She's not afraid to mix it up, throw elbows..."

"Play like a boy?" I interjected.

"Yeah, exactly," the young woman answered.

I'm pretty sure my smile almost broke my face. She was every bit the tomboy her mother was when we first met: ask no quarter, give no quarter.

"Her mother was a mean one as a kid. Do you see this scar here?" I said, pointing to a mark I knew was above my right eyebrow. "Her mother did that to me when we were playing football as kids. Em's used to playing with boys. She takes no prisoners. Your opponents aren't going to be happy facing her."

I could see the wheels in her brain spinning.

"All right, but maybe you could explain to her not to beat up her teammates so much in practice," she said.

"I'll try," I said sincerely.

Emily was the star of the team as it went undefeated in seven games. Her teammates rather enjoyed it when Emily beat on the opposition even worse than she did to them in practice.

She was also an inspiration to several of her more passive teammates. Several of the parents thanked me for Emily helping to bring out the confidence in their kids.

"I can't take credit for that. Her mother was that way when we were kids together," I said, enjoying a great memory.

I was so wrapped up with Emily and the team that I never noticed the attention I was getting from two of her teammates' mothers, both divorcees, until Miss Templeman pointed it out to me.

"Umm... Mr. Bannick, I think you're missing part of the picture here," Lori Templeman told me about halfway through the season. "The short blonde over there, Tammy Overton, and the redheaded woman at the end of the bleachers, Diane Mizrack, have been trying to catch your eye for a while now... and either you're the coolest customer I've ever seen or the most clueless customer. Both of those women would practically embarrass themselves to have you notice them."

I felt myself blush hard. As far as I knew, I had never before missed signals from a single woman. I was a healthy 26-year-old man.

"Oh my God. You were clueless!" she said as she saw my face. "How adorable. There are still some unicorns left on earth."

Being a single guy, I encountered some young women with children along my dating route, but I had never before considered trawling for MILFs, so I hadn't considered a... dating component to being the parent of a second grader. Who knew? Live and learn, I guess.

I'm not too proud to say that I dated both Tammy and Diane several times, explaining to both that I was still getting settled in with Emily and wasn't looking for anything serious. They appreciated my honesty, and because we were upfront with each other, the dating was a lot of fun. The sex with each was also a lot of fun, although I found out that Diane definitely lived up to the fiery redhead cliché. She drew blood when she strafed my shoulders. She felt terrible when she realized what she had done, but I reassured her it wasn't the first time I had bled during play.

Although I still dated some, my social life as a young single man probably suffered the most by my suddenly being a parent... and I was more than okay with that. I will give Milo and Marianne a lot of credit, they had been raising a great, confident kid. She was up for almost anything I wanted to do. In fact, a year after she came to live with me, I don't think most people even had a clue she wasn't my biological child. Several people had even referred to her as my "Mini Me."

When the next summer rolled around, I signed Emily up for Coaches Pitch baseball, never even considering signing her up for girls' softball. I had played catch with her and had pitched to her in a nearby park and knew she was good enough to play in the league that had very few girls in it. Also, I knew she would have bitched like hell if I would have signed her up for "the girls' league," as she called it.

By the way, she was one of the better players in the league.

Just like with soccer the previous fall, I encountered the preying MILF thing again, both from mothers of kids on Emily's team as well as from the other teams. I've got to tell all the young single guys out there, don't hesitate to hang out at kids' baseball games. It's definitely a target-rich environment.

Although she was now just eight years old, Emily really seemed to be more aware of my social situation than I was. She was constantly alerting me to mothers who seemed to have a thing for me, and very often rated the women by how well she liked their kids. For example, there was a very pretty single mother whose kid played for another team who left me no doubt she was interested, but I knew that was never going to happen because Emily thought her son was a whiner and therefore assumed his mother had instilled that in him... and she wasn't shy about telling me that I should stay away from her--so I did.

Of course, if Emily was good friends with a child of a single mother, then she would hint broadly that I should date that child's mother, regardless of what I thought. We actually had to have a sit-down on that, because while I was good with not dating women because Emily didn't like their kids, I was not cool with her trying to fix me up with her friends' moms. She threw a bit of a fit when we had that discussion, and I had to wonder if she was eight, or 28.

"I know you doubt it from time to time, but I can find my own dates," I finally had to end that argument with.

She harrumphed and walked off. She didn't talk to me for about an hour, which for her was a lifetime.

Both sets of grandparents visited us during the school year, as did my parents, who became de facto grandparents, since Emily was in effect, my child. Trust me, the kid didn't lack for grandparent spoiling.

Once the baseball season was done in San Antonio, I drove Emily to Indiana so she could spend a month with her grandparents, first spending two weeks with Marianne's parents and then two weeks with Milo's... even though the two lived just two houses apart and often socialized together... and with my parents as well.

I thought I might enjoy being a single guy without a kid for a month, but in retrospect it was a nightmare for me. I had gotten used to having a blonde chatterbox at my side virtually anytime I wasn't at work, and I found I missed the company, the noise and... the connection we had developed. I could understand why divorced men fought so hard not to lose their kids, and why some even put up with the bullshit of a cheating wife just to keep in touch with their children.

Emily and I talked every day. I know sometimes our talks interrupted her time with her grandparents, but I just had to hear from her, even a little bit. I think both sets of grandparents understood where I was coming from. Even though she enjoyed her time with the grands, I think she was just as happy to speak with me as I was to talk to her.

******

"You know, Mr. Bannick, you really should marry my mom. Then neither of you would be alone, and Emily and I could be sisters," Emily's best friend, Gina Wilkes, said one evening while she, Emily and I were wolfing down some ice cream at our kitchen table.

"That's a really great idea, Gina. We should start working on that," Emily quickly responded while I suddenly choked loudly on my ice cream.

"Bones," I joked while I cleared my throat, getting small appreciative giggles from the girls.

I had hoped they were both kidding, but I could tell by their faces that they were both as serious as heart attacks.

"Umm..." I sputtered. So far, so good. "First of all, I might have to actually know the woman, more than just saying hello to her occasionally when we meet at events, or when one of us is dropping off his or her daughter."

That didn't exactly slow the train.

"Oh, you'd like her, Uncle Jude," Emily piped up enthusiastically. "She's pretty, smart and hot. Yeah, she's hot."

Gina was nodding enthusiastically in agreement.

"Yeah, hot," she agreed.

"What would a pair of 10-year-olds know about hot... what a man my age would think is hot?" I queried.

"We're practically teenagers, Mr. Bannick, and girls know more about hot than boys do," Gina answered confidently.

Damn, I was already losing, and getting uncomfortable.

"Ten is not even close to being a teenager, and teenagers don't know everything," I responded, definitely defensive.

"Come on. Wake up, Uncle Jude. Who do you think drives the economy? Girls and women from 10 to 30. We control social media, and social media controls much of the economy, especially when it comes to disposable income. If you don't believe me, just look at the fact that Taylor Swift is worth over a billion dollars," Emily commented.

"Think about how you could tie everything up into a neat bow, Mr. Bannick." Gina started. "You marry Mom. You adopt me because my dad's out of the picture... and you adopt Emily officially so we can all have the same name. It's perfect!"

They were both nodding at me as if it was a done deal.

"Okay, back up the bus a minute," I responded, looking Emily straight in the face. "Do you want me to adopt you? I never asked because I didn't want to seem like I was pushing your parents aside."

"You wouldn't be pushing them aside. I'll never forget them, but you've been my dad and I've been your daughter for the last few years in all but name... and admit it, but me calling you Dad would be so much better than Uncle Jude," she said.

I got really choked up. My vision got a little blurry. She got up from her chair and sat down on my lap in my chair, hugging me hard with both of her arms. Done deal...

"And me calling you Dad would be so much better than Mr. Bannick," Gina said a few seconds later.

Emily pulled back a little to look into my eyes and give me her best cheesy smile.

"Please, Dad," she pleaded.

"This is the part that you two don't get to control. I barely know Gina's mom, and there's a little thing called love that has to factor into the marriage equation. I have to love her, and she has to love me..."

"She loves Sorrentino's," Gina interrupted with the name of a nice Italian restaurant in town. "Friday night would be good. Call the restaurant first, then call my mom. Here's my phone. Put her in your contacts now. And don't forget to order a pepperoni pizza from Pizza Hut for Emily and me for Friday night."

"What makes you think I'd want to have two of you for daughters?" I asked with a smile on my face. "One of you is more than enough."

They both smirked at each other, before they turned back to me.

"Call. Now," they said in unison.

Emily had been with me four years at this point. We had moved into a three-bedroom home two years earlier. Gina lived two blocks over.

I called the restaurant and then Gina's mother. Marina Wilkes answered on the first ring.

"We were set up, weren't we?" I asked, even though I knew she didn't know who called--at least officially.

"I guess so," she answered quietly, but not without a certain amount of enthusiasm in her voice. "So where did the little schemers tell you to take me?"

"Sorrentino's. That work for you?"

I had only seen Marina dressed casually for sitting in the stands watching the girls play soccer. She had short dark brown hair and light blue eyes. She was pretty, that much I knew. But dressed up for our date, Marina definitely qualified as hot. She filled out the jean vest she wore as a blouse and the jean skirt she wore ended at mid-thigh and showed off her tan, toned legs. I thought I took a surreptitious look at her legs as she folded into my car, but she was already watching me watch her as she got in.

I smiled self-consciously and shrugged.

"Gina told me to wear this outfit," she said with what I considered a knowing smile back. "I know she and your daughter are besties, and she spends a lot of time here. She apparently knows what you like."

Marina worked in the administration offices at Methodist Hospital in San Antonio. During our evening out I learned she had been married to Gina's father for little more than a cup of coffee. He wasn't much of a father, apparently, rarely seeing Gina and only paying child support occasionally.

I knew from the way Gina talked about him that he wasn't very high on her list or her mother's.

Since her divorce, Marina, like me, had dated some, but really hadn't found anyone special.

I gave her more than a Reader's Digest version of how Emily and I came to be together, of course stopping short of telling her that Milo wasn't Emily's biological father. I also didn't tell her about Marianne and I being a couple before Milo and she married.

We had a very nice date. When we got back to my house so Marina could pick up Gina, we talked for a few minutes and made another date for the next Friday. We exchanged gentle kisses. As the two made their way to their car for the short trip home, I heard Gina ask her mother if I proposed yet. I saw Marina give her a gentle tap on the back of her head.

The next Friday night the girls ate pizza at Marina's while I took her to a Mexican restaurant and a movie. I hadn't driven a block when an embarrassed-sounding Marina asked me if her daughter had actually told me I should marry her mother.

"Yeah, she did mention something to that effect," I responded quietly.

I smiled and took a quick peek peripherally while I drove and I could see that Marina was blushing intensely. She started to say something several times before just finally blowing out a stream of air from her mouth. It took her about a minute before she seemed to regain some semblance of composure.

"I'm going to kill that child... and maybe yours right after that," she said. "I'm really sorry, Jude."

"No reason to apologize, Marina," I said softly. "She actually made a lot of sense, especially when she pointed out that I should adopt both her and Emily so we all had the same last name. I had never thought that Emily wanted me to adopt her, but I found out she was all for it. And I wouldn't mind having two adorable creatures calling me Dad."

"How about we see if we can get through a second date before we jump into wedding plans, okay?" she snarked.

"Wait a sec. If you want to wait, then I need to pull over and cancel the preacher for next Friday night," I joked.

I could see the shocked expression on her face for a second before her brain kicked in and she realized I was kidding. She punched my right arm as we drove on.

"Good lord, Jude. Don't encourage those two," she said.

"Okay, so since we're not getting married next Friday night, how about we--the four of us--take a road trip to Houston, watch the Astros series against the Cubs, eat out a few times and take in some sights. I'll get us two double rooms... don't say it, one for you two and one for Emily and me... and we can see how the four of us do together," I stated.

"You're starting to worry me. You're serious, aren't you?" she asked.

"Most definitely. Why wait? Let's jump into this with both feet," I said. "All I ask is for you to be fearless... and honest with me. If at any point you're not feeling it, just be honest with me and tell me."

We pulled up in front of the restaurant at that moment, and I turned the car off and looked directly at her.

"I swear to you I'm not a serial killer, and I'm not nuts... at least I wasn't until I started raising a daughter. Everything about this is crazy, or the beginning of one of those tearjerker Hallmark movies. You're not going to believe this, but once upon a time I was a regular single guy doing regular stupid single guy things.

"Then my two best friends, who screwed around on me behind my back and she got pregnant, died in a car wreck, and left me to raise their most precious possession in the world. Now she and her best friend get this crazy idea that I should adopt her, marry the best friend's pretty, hot mom and adopt the best friend and then we'll all live happily ever after.

"I say let's go for it. What do you think, by the way?"

Marina had a pinkish blush going on and was grinning from ear to ear.

"Back up the bus a minute, Jude. Do you really think I'm pretty and hot?" she asked in a shy rasp.

At that moment I had nothing left. I leaned forward and kissed her hard on her soft lips. She kissed back. I felt it. She felt it, too.

"We really should go inside and eat before we get arrested for doing something in public that we shouldn't do," she said barely above a whisper.

We had an excellent meal, told each other our life stories and then made plans for how our courtship would progress, starting with attending the Cubs' games in Houston. She explained to me that Gina's biological father probably wouldn't have any problem letting me adopt his daughter if she agreed to forgive all back child support he owed her.

We eventually got intimate as our relationship progressed, although finding those moments took a lot of patience and creativity with our daughters being around. Marina went back on birth control because we didn't want any accidents occurring in front of two pre-teen girls.

Both Marina and I noticed that our showing up as a couple at the girls' sporting events wasn't necessarily well-received by the other single mothers, one of whom accused Marina of sleeping her way into my life. Marina told the other women the truth: that our daughters set us up, and nature did the rest.

"Damn. It was that simple? I'm going to have to tell my daughter to be more aggressive about finding a new stepdad," one of the women replied as several others nodded in agreement.

If I live to be 100, I'll never be able to explain the connection Marina and I had almost right from the start. Six months after we started dating, we all made a trip to Indiana so I could introduce Marina and Gina to my parents as well as Milo's and Marianne's parents, and to explain about adopting the two girls. Phyllis, in particular, took the news hard when I told her that Emily was the one who first brought it up.

"She's never going to forget her birth parents, Phyllis, but what she and I have is much more than uncle and niece, and has been for some time. Things might not have worked out for Marianne and me, but she wound up giving me a great daughter in a roundabout way," I said to Phyllis when we talked alone later that first night in her kitchen.

All three sets of grandparents welcomed Marina and Gina into the family immediately. Gina was almost overwhelmed at all the attention because the only family Marina had was her two parents. Milo and Marianne each had siblings, so Gina added six grandparents and several aunts and uncles in one fell swoop.

"So, Dad, when are you and Mom going to add a bridge child to the mix?" Emily asked us one night at the dinner table about a year after we married.

"A what?" Marina questioned, looking from Emily to Gina, both of whom were grinning like Cheshire cats.

"A bridge child, Mom," Gina said with a hint of annoyance that her mother wasn't up on social terms. "You know, a child that bridges both families... a little brother or sister from the two of you..."

"Oh," Marina gasped, looking to me for some help.

My grin was as big as the ones worn by the girls.

"I suppose we could throw away your pills tonight and start working on that," I said, looking at a blushing Marina directly in her eyes.

"TMI, Dad, TMI," Emily said, smiling brightly. "We don't need to know specifics. But could we ask for a baby brother? You two already have two fantastic daughters."

The bridge child came along about 15 months later, and yes, we did have a boy. The girls were thrilled with their baby brother, even though we sometimes asked them to babysit.

Things were good until the girls were in 10th grade and had to do blood-typing for a science class project. Without saying anything to me--why would she, really--Emily called Milo's parents and Marianne's to get her biological parents' blood types. She's a smart child, and she figured out immediately that her blood type math didn't add up. That's when she got me involved, at a very high decibel level and with a lot of tears.

"Why didn't you tell me I was adopted before I was adopted?" she yelled at me when I walked into the house from work on a Monday afternoon.

"Huh?"

Okay, it wasn't my best answer, but I didn't know there would be a pop quiz as soon as I entered the house.

She held up a notebook which had three letters written on a page: B+, O+, A+. Oh fuck!

"Umm."

She stood in front of me with both fire and tears in her eyes. Marina and Gina had joined us in the kitchen to find out what was going on.

"I don't have the same blood type as either of my biologicals. Why didn't you tell me I was adopted before I came to you?" she screeched before breaking down in tears.

Both of my other girls wrapped her up in hugs and then the trio turned to me with bad intent on their faces.

"Oh shit. Table, everybody. I'll get the hot chocolate going, change my clothes and we can have a family meeting," I asserted.

I was up and down the stairs in record time and had the hot chocolate done in five minutes flat. I passed out the mugs to the three unhappiest females in the world and pulled up my chair.

I didn't want to throw Marianne's mom, Phyllis, under the bus, but I wasn't going to fall on my sword for either her or Marianne. Yes, I had some culpability here, too, but mine was done out of love, I felt. I was hoping that Emily would be able to forgive my part in this when the whole story came out.

I started off by telling Emily that she wasn't adopted by Milo and Marianne but that she wasn't Milo's child biologically... and he never knew before he was killed in the car wreck. Until right then, the only people who knew that were Phyllis and me... and I wasn't told until after the accident, only because Milo and Marianne wanted me to raise Emily.

"So you're saying that my bio-mom was a cheating slut? Perfect," Emily said. "And Grandma hid that from everybody because she was covering for her. What do you think my bio-dad's parents are going to say when they find out he wasn't even my real bio-dad?"

"It's going to destroy them, just like it would have six years ago," I answered. "Milo's gone. Knowing that he wasn't your bio-dad won't do anything good for his parents, which is why I agreed to keep the silence.

"Yes, your bio-mom cheated on your bio-dad, but I didn't want to be the one to crush Milo's parents."

I watched the wheels turn in her head.

"So my real bio-dad, does anybody know who he really was?" Emily asked.

"Not as far as I know," I said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"Me, too, Dad. I won't say anything to anybody. I guess it doesn't matter anymore. I've got you and Mom and Gina and Kenny," she said.

After looking in her eyes, I knew I finally had to break my silence about my relationship with Marianne and Milo. I took a big breath and dove in. Emily sat wide-eyed and quiet, finally uttering a soft, "Wow. That was really terrible, Dad."

"Yeah, it was," I said just as softly. "It took me some time to get over it, but I finally made the decision that I either had to let it chew me up or let it go. I chose to let it go, and in the end that resulted in me getting you... and you getting me. I think I made the right choice, don't you?"

She kind of looked at me side eye, then smiled brightly.

"You got me, and I got you another daughter and Mom, which later on, got you a son. So I think it turned out really good."

I looked around the room at the smiling faces.

"Really good," I agreed.