Release Blitz I Pick You by Jettie Woodruff
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. āThis book will tell you any and everything you would need to know, right down to a mosquito bite.ā
I blew out a puff of air, cocky air. āIām pretty sure I can handle a mosquito bite. I didnāt need a tab for that one. Iām not stupid, just not made for this daddy stuff.ā
āWhat you put on your mosquito bite isnāt 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.ā
āOh, okay, yeah, that makes sense,ā I admitted while I stepped off my pedestal, accepting defeat, the thought of my grandma using that same home remedy crossing my mind. Nope, didnāt know how to do this, and I didnāt want to. I was doomed, she was doomed, and this was a horrible idea.
āYouāre going to be fine.ā
That wasnāt what I was worried about. Not fully. āAnd what about the girl? Youāre trusting someone who has never been around little kids. Ever.ā
āIām trusting her with her dad, and stop calling her the girl. Her name is Bay.ā
āYeah, I know. Why you would name a child, Bay is beyond me. Especially when your last name is Berry.ā
āHey, I gave her your name. I could have given her mine.ā
āWhatever, itās 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.ā
Kit frowned while her head did this little jerking thing. Like I had just slapped her across her face. āYouāre leaving Nashville?ā
āI know youāve only seen the ceiling of my apartment, but Iām sure you noticed the size? Whereās 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, Iām leaving Nashville.ā
āI remember your apartment, idiot, but where would you go?ā
āIdit,ā the tiny little voice said from the bed.
Kit laughed and scolded her with a lighthearted tone. āYou canāt say that.ā
āI donāt know yet. I just sent out a resume right before I called. Iāll let you know when I know.ā
āBut what kind of job? I mean what can you do besides sing?ā
I shook my head a little with that one, deciding not to tell the dumb twit. Not because I wasnāt proud of the degree I had gotten as a backup plan. It was more because she didnāt think I was capable of such an accomplishment. She didnāt know shit about me, and it pissed me off that she was so quick to judge. āOh, I donāt know, Kit. I bet I could mow lawns, or maybe change some oil or something.ā
Kitās frown never changed and she continued to start each sentence with, but. āBut where would you go? I thought you would stay close to your family. You know, so they can help with Bay.ā
I did the frowning that time. āSee, this is why this is wrong on so many levels. You donāt know me any more than I know you. My family lives in Michigan. Not Nashville. I came here right after high school.
āBut I met your sister.ā
āBridgett, yes. She just so happened to be visiting that weekend. She doesnāt live here. Sheās a social worker back home. Not here.ā
I could almost see the air being exhaled as Kitās eyebrows sank with both her shoulders. She looked back at Bay, dumping raisins onto the bed, and back to me. āThis changes things.ā
āIt does?ā I questioned, wheels spinning like crazy in my head while I tried to contain the excitement.
āYeah, 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 donāt know.ā
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 didnāt really think about Bay being my responsibility. My duty to my daughter consisted of six hundred dollars set up to automatically deposit into Kitās bank account on the first day of every month. At least, I wouldnāt have to send that anymore. Surely a baby didnāt cost that much.
āIām sure weāll be fine. Iām 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?ā
āYou have no idea how much I want this, Brantley. It took me months to ask you. I wouldnāt even consider it if it wasnāt you.ā
I didnāt understand that at all. āWhy? Iāve never even been in her life.ā
āBecause nobody but you will love her like I do.ā
I didnāt touch that one either. How could she say that, knowing we didnāt even know each other? āWhen do you leave?ā
āSix weeks,ā Kit replied in a faraway tone. Her head turned back to Bay and a smile took over her entire face.
That didnāt give me much time, but it wasnāt like she hadnāt asked six months before. Thatās just how long it took for her to talk me into it, begging and pleading until I finally caved. And I still wasnāt 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. āIāve never changed a diaper.ā
āSheās doing great on the potty. If youāre lucky, I can have her out of diapers before you get her. There is one thing, Brantley.ā
āHere it comes. What?ā
āI want her back. You have to sign something promising to give her back. You can see her and get her on weekends, but you canāt keep her. Iām getting her back.ā
That wouldnāt be a problem. āSure, whatever. Iāll call you in a few days.ā
āThank you so much, Brantley.ā
āYeah, yeah. See ya.ā
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
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