by P. A. Kurch
“The baby’s room. Alyssa and her mom hated the color.”
“I thought they picked out the color!” Evan shouted. He then got quiet. Really quiet. Sounds of the game continued. I wished I was there playing.
“The color looked too bright when it dried. I just need an hour! Please,” I begged. I promised him Chinese food. That’s all it took for him.
“I’m on it,” he said.
Evan and I got straight to work. We only stopped to eat our dinner. And then we both got the worst headaches. Alyssa’s mom marched upstairs. “That paint! It’s so strong!” she said. “I can smell it from the kitchen! Let’s open a window in here.”
She walked to the window and tried to pull it up. She struggled with it. She looked up and down at it, mumbling to herself. She tried a few more times to open it. And then she looked at me and Evan. “Alright,” she snapped. “Who did this one?”
I walked to the window. Embarrassed. I took a good look. Evan had painted over the window’s edges. The window was painted shut.
Forever.
DECEMBER
CHAPTER NINE
By December, Alyssa and I started making our lists of things we needed to buy. I was ready for it, having read all of those books at work. I knew all of the best toys, car seats, and high chairs, but all of them were out of our price range. We started looking elsewhere. We started crossing things off. Putting things back on shelves. Returning things online. We were always looking for something cheaper.
We literally had no other choice, and it sucked.
Our parents told us not to worry too much. They, too, wanted the best for the baby. They began surprising us with things. Like the crib Alyssa fell in love with. Or the Super Mario lamp I wanted for the baby’s room. I could never pay them back in full. I always offered something. My dad, especially, never wanted the money. “Save it,” he told me. “You’ll need it.” I didn’t know what we would do without them.
There was something Alyssa and I both really loved, though. We needed one, too, but not one this fancy or expensive. It was a high-tech video baby monitor. At Christmas, Evan surprised us with it. “I bought this on one condition,” he said. “You have to go outside and test this out with me.”
I didn’t hesitate. “Of course!” I told him.
Alyssa rolled her eyes. “Just please be careful with it,” she said. “And be careful with yourselves!”
I asked Alyssa’s mom where she kept the batteries. Evan and I bundled up and put batteries in the monitor at the same time. We opened the door. There were two feet of snow on the ground. Evan’s eyes grew wide.
We stood on the back porch. We tested it to make sure it worked. Evan looked into the camera and he appeared on my screen. “Okay, it works,” I told him hurriedly. The wind blew. It was freezing cold. Evan suddenly bolted with the camera piece in hand.
I stared at the screen. All I saw was Evan’s nose, sticking out between his hat and scarf. He breathed heavily. He kept quoting lines from Star Wars. I laughed like a mad fool. Evan disappeared into the trees. He crouched down, joking that he was spotted by snow monsters.
And then, out of nowhere, he took off again out of the trees. There was a scream and the picture on my screen began spinning. It went dark. I yelled to Evan. A minute later, he appeared in front of me, covered in snow. He was out of breath, telling me, “I dropped it! I tripped in the snow and lost the camera. I can’t find it!”
My heart sank. We searched where he fell. The camera, of course, was white. Snow kept falling, making things worse. “We’ll never find it, you idiot!” I yelled. We dug like crazy. It was no use.
Evan got on his hands and knees in the snow to look closer. He cringed. “My ankle!” he screamed. “I think I twisted it when I fell!”
I thought he was kidding. Me, being “Friend of the Year,” told him to suck it up. We looked for a few more minutes. Evan was close to tears, so I called off the search. He pulled off his boot. His ankle was swollen. I felt so awful.
I carried him back to my house on my back. He quoted more Star Wars as I struggled to carry him. I almost left him there out in the cold.
We didn’t say a word about the broken baby monitor to anyone. I pretended that I’d put it in a safe place until the baby was born. Alyssa’s stepmom helped Evan wrap his ankle. He was being such a drama queen—we had to call his mom.
Months later, in the spring, Alyssa’s neighbor called her parents. He ran over something with his riding lawn mower. Nobody knew what it was. Pieces of glass. White plastic. Metal. All shredded up and spread over his lawn. He wasn’t happy. He didn’t like kids, especially us. “Surely it’s one of Laura’s toys. Or a smart phone!” he yelled. Alyssa went next door to take a look. She knew what it was. She texted me and Evan the same thing:
Evan called me in a panic. “I don’t have the money to replace it, man!” he said. We agreed to go in half on a new one.
They were sold out.
JANUARY
CHAPTER TEN
Alyssa called me one night in anger. “My moms!” she told me. “They signed me up for classes!”
“College classes?” I asked. “That’s great!”
“No,” she scoffed. “Teen parenting classes! What if I see someone? Someone who knows somebody from school? Everyone’s going to find out. That’ll be it for me!”
I felt awful. “Would it make you feel better if I went to these classes, too?” I asked.
“Wait, they didn’t tell you?” she replied with a bitter laugh. “Your parents signed you up, too!”
I hung up on her and flew down the stairs. My parents were setting up for dinner. “Why didn’t you guys tell me?” I yelled.
“We were going to tell you during dessert!” my mom yelled back.
Alyssa and I started going to class every Tuesday night. I had to miss work those nights, but it was nice to be with Alyssa. We learned a lot of things. We learned about what to expect at the doctor’s office and how to keep the baby healthy. It was nice learning it from a person rather than a book.
I asked a lot of questions. The instructors loved me. I don’t think the other teen dads appreciated my know-it-all enthusiasm.
We saw a lot of pictures and videos of childbirth. That was… informative, to say the least. I’d start feeling nervous and get all sweaty. Alyssa would laugh at me.
Infant CPR was my favorite class by far. We learned how to save babies from choking. We practiced with these ugly baby dummies. At the end was what is called a skills test. Alyssa dreaded the day of the skills test. I told her, “We’ve got this!” But she was unsure. Those baby dummies were pretty scary.
We practiced quite a bit. We took notes. We watched the instructor closely. We were going to get this. It came time for our skills test. The instructor, Miss Cheryl, asked me to demonstrate a skill. “Mr. Parker,” she said. “Your baby is choking. How do you get the object out of his mouth?”
I picked up the dummy and held it facedown on my forearm. I gently hit its back to get the object out of its mouth. Alyssa was next. She was asked to give the baby rescue breaths.
I could tell Alyssa was nervous—she was actually shaking. She stepped up to our fake baby. She tilted its neck back, ready to perform CPR. We heard a snap. And the baby’s head fell off!
The head rolled off the table. It landed on the floor with a loud “crack.” Alyssa’s jaw dropped. Miss Cheryl looked down at the head. She shook her own head in disappointment. I panicked. She looked back up at us and smiled. “Oh. Oh,” she said. “That baby’s done, honey. Move on with your lives, sweethearts.”
For a second, I thought Alyssa might cry. And then—she broke. I’ve never heard Alyssa snort before. She had tears in her eyes from laughing so hard. Everyone looked at us.
The teacher signed our papers. She handed them to us.
Somehow, we both passed.
Evan stopped by Alyssa’s house to see us that night. We told him all about our CPR baby losing its head and he laughed just as hard
as we did. “So what else have they taught you?” he asked.
“Family stuff. And relationship stuff,” Alyssa answered. Evan shook his head.
“What about the basics?” he shouted.
We both looked at him in confusion.
Evan disappeared for a moment. He came back with one of Laura’s baby dolls in his hand. Thankfully, Laura was in bed. She didn’t like sharing.
“You, Bryan,” he said, almost demandingly. “Change his diaper.”
“I know how to change a diaper!” I exclaimed. “Besides, we don’t even have a diaper.”
Evan handed one to me. “Where did you… “ I started to ask.
“Clock is ticking, Bryan,” Evan told me. He showed me the timer counting down on his phone.
Alyssa laughed as I struggled to put the diaper on the doll. It went on backwards, inside out, sideways. “I thought you knew how to do this!” Evan teased.
I was annoyed. “Okay. Maybe this is the one thing I didn’t learn in class. Or read in a book,” I replied.
He allowed me to try again. This time, though, the diaper ripped. I grew frustrated. Evan looked at Alyssa. “This is just practice, too!” he said. “Besides, it’s a clean diaper. The real thing is worse.”
I groaned.
“Suck it up, tiger,” he laughed.
“Why?” I yelled. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because of Christmas! My ankle was broken!” he shouted.
“You twisted it!” I shot back.
“It was basically broken!” Evan continued.
Our Friday night diaper practice would go on for weeks. Alyssa’s parents warned us, somewhat jokingly: “Don’t let Laura find out you’re using her doll.”
We did pretty well hiding the evidence. Until one morning when we forgot to take the practice diaper off of it. Laura found Baby Bink and knew he had been messed with. We never saw Baby Bink again. Or, we never found all of him, at least. We found one of his arms in Laura’s sandbox that summer.
Evan held a memorial for Baby Bink the night he disappeared. We sat on the back porch and even had a moment of silence. “We’ve done all we can, folks,” Evan announced. “I think we should cut our losses. Bryan, your diaper changing skills were truly awful. No wonder why Baby Bink disappeared.”
I put my head down in embarrassment.
Alyssa raised her hand. “I’ll be right back,” she said, as she disappeared into the house. She brought back this torn and very old-looking stuffed giraffe. “Here, Bryan. Practice with this. He was mine when I was a baby.”
“I can’t do this,” I laughed. “It’s a giraffe! Get serious.”
They begged me. “Oh, you have to, Bryan! Change the giraffe!”
I grabbed a diaper just to shut them up. And would you believe it? I changed it in one try. I got even faster on the next try. Evan made up a chart with markers and stickers. He started to track my progress. Depending on how fast I was, I earned gold, silver, or bronze stars. A gold star meant a kiss—from Alyssa, of course.
I know Evan lied about my time a lot. I got gold stars, all right.
One time. In four weeks.
FEBRUARY
CHAPTER ELEVEN
On the coldest day of February, a letter arrived from my dream college. I had been accepted!
I’d dreamed of going to school in a big, beautiful city. I’d dreamed of the friends I would make, the games I would design. It was my dream life.
And then reality hit me.
The excitement wore off fast. The baby would be here in four months. I began arguing with myself and everyone else. Could I make it work, going to school on top of being a dad?
Alyssa and I started having arguments. She, too, was accepted into her dream college, but she decided to put that on hold. She had to. Besides, she wouldn’t move anyways. Her parents wanted her to stick around. And the money! We had saved everything for the baby. There was barely enough to begin with. There definitely wouldn’t be anything left for classes or textbooks.
Our plans had to change. They were changing. And it was the hardest thing to accept.
Alyssa’s baby bump got bigger day by day. She tried hiding it at school and at work, but it was getting harder to hide behind loose sweatshirts. “People know,” she told me. “They stare at me. They talk about me. My hoodie can only cover so much. It’s a losing battle.”
I looked at her sadly. “People are cruel,” I told her. “They’re going to talk no matter what’s going on.”
School was rough for her, too. She was late a lot because of morning doctor’s appointments. She couldn’t play sports anymore. Her classmates were connecting the dots. The rumors hit hard and fast.
I watched as Alyssa started to withdraw from life. No more going to the mall with friends. No more family dinners at her favorite restaurant. Besides me, Evan, and her moms, Alyssa suddenly had no one to talk to. She grew sad and eventually, quiet. And she grew angry—at herself, the world, and sometimes, me.
On days like that, I tried to cheer her up. I’d talk to the baby. I’d sing songs (very badly). Most times, she’d laugh. She’d smile. She’d hug me. She’d kiss me. And then, one day, it all stopped working. My jokes. My stories. My love for her. She just shrugged it all off.
“Leave me alone,” she begged. “Just for today.”
I didn’t listen. I tried again. Another hug. Another joke. Alyssa pushed me away, and she sat down at her desk in silence. I called her name but she didn’t look at me. I was confused. Hurt, even. I left her house without saying another word.
A gentle breeze blew in the trees that evening. The neighborhood was eerily quiet. “Just for today” turned into a week and my texts went unanswered.
Evan was suddenly quieter than usual, too. And then, just a few days later, during our break at work, Evan told me the news.
“Remember that girl I told you about? From music class?” he asked me. I nodded my head. “She asked me out. I mean, how could I say no?”
“That’s great!” I told him. Deep down, though, I knew that was it. He’d be busier now. No more time for video games or hanging out. By the end of the week, I only saw Evan at work. He promised we’d get together soon. “This weekend,” he’d say, “or maybe next weekend. I forgot I made plans already.”
He always canceled anyways.
Eventually I stopped asking him to hang out. To be honest, neither of us really had time for fun anymore.
MARCH
CHAPTER TWELVE
Parenting classes ended in March. After that, I didn’t see Alyssa that much. Sometimes I’d get invited—by her moms—to come over for dinner, but that was it. I went back to working my regular hours. Evan found a different job by the middle of March.
I had nobody now. I hated it. I hated the situation. I started hating them.
I started sitting alone in the cafeteria. It was just easier for me to ignore everyone else. And then one day, from the table of girls behind me:
“Guys, didn’t you hear? That Alyssa girl who used to go here? She’s all knocked up.” There were gasps and laughs.
“So, is that why she moved? Because she was sleeping around?” someone asked.
I sat facing away from them, just listening to it all. I didn’t eat. I just stared at my lunch.
“I wonder who the father is!” another girl chimed in. And that’s when they started naming people. Popular kids—the football team, the partiers. Once they got through them, the jokes started. They named the kids with no friends. The weird kids. Or the superintendent’s son who was always so full of himself. The table roared.
“What about the smart kids? Like Bryan Parker?”
They screamed in laughter. I felt so small.
“It couldn’t be him,” one of the girls said. “I don’t think he even knows what girls are.”
I think they knew I was sitting nearby. She said it like it was meant for me to hear.
These talks happened for the next few days. I couldn’t even stand up for mys
elf.
Work made me feel better. I still liked helping people. I read every new parenting book that came in. I ended up taking more hours to make a little more money. I came home only to sleep. Then I started to fall behind on essays, homework, and studying. My parents and teachers began to worry.
“This isn’t like him at all,” I heard my mom say to my dad outside my door one night.
I wanted to give up so badly. On everything and everyone.
March crawled by. I caught myself falling asleep during class and gym. My eyelids felt heavy. Everything felt heavy. Teachers started to ask to see me after class. I remember having the talks, but I have no idea what they said. I can still see their mouths moving up and down, but no words ever came out. None that I listened to, at least. I was too tired. I nodded my head. I promised to get it together.
Things got so bad that the school tried getting my parents involved. I’d get a text from my dad saying, “We have to talk.” I took my time getting home from work. My dinner was always in the fridge waiting for me. Even at home, I started eating alone. In the morning, I would get up earlier than my parents. I barely saw them now.
It was like everyone was upset with me and I was upset with them. I was the teenage son, the best friend, the boyfriend, and the student who messed up. Badly.
I started missing Evan more than ever. I missed our talks. Those stupid talks! Joking with him over superheroes. Arguing all night during boss battles.
I missed Alyssa, too. Losing her absolutely crushed me. I would try so hard to push things out of my mind. It never worked. Not for long, at least.
All of the stress we faced. Saving money, working long hours, going to school—it was all too much. Plus, it was our first and only real relationship with another person. How on Earth did we know what we were doing?