by M. E. Carter
“Okay. Do you mind if I put my stuff in your cart?” she asks sheepishly. “I promise I’m not asking you to pay for my stuff. I was trying so hard to figure out this formula thing, I forgot to get one on the way in.”
I smile at the baby, who is staring up at me, big blue eyes taking me in as he eats. “Sure. We’ll sort it all out after you get what you need.”
She thanks me, and we spend the next several minutes walking up and down the few baby aisles in the store. She asks my opinion on several items she might need. By the time she’s acquired all the basics, the baby has finished off a couple ounces and is ready to burp, so we sit down on a bench next to the closed pharmacy.
“How many kids do you have, anyway?” she asks, shocking me. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. I know more than most on the subject.
“I don’t have any kids,” I say as I sit the baby on my lap, hold his chin and cheeks in one hand and patting his back with the other. I smile when I see his face. The expressions babies make in this position always cracks me up.
She gets a confused look on her face. “Then how do you know so much about babies?”
“I come from a pretty big family,” I say with a chuckle. “Three sisters and two brothers. Plus I’ve been helping raise my nieces and nephews since I was a kid.”
“How many do you have?”
I look up at the ceiling as I try to remember everyone in order. “Let’s see… Erika has four, Marlene has two, Eduardo has four, Blanca has three, and Geovany doesn’t have any yet. So that’s… thirteen, I guess.”
“Wow.” She sounds sad. “Must be nice.”
“What about you?” I ask, making conversation while we wait for little man to burp. “Do you just have a sister?”
She takes a deep breath before answering. “She’s my only sibling. My only family actually. But she, um, didn’t survive the car accident.”
I still as I absorb what she’s saying. Her chin wobbles a bit, and I can tell she’s trying not to cry again.
Suddenly her confusion and hysteria make more sense. She isn’t only taking care of her nephew while her sister is in the hospital. She inherited him permanently. Worrying about my corner shot doesn’t seem nearly as important and life altering anymore.
“I’m so sorry. That… wow. That sucks.”
She gives me a small, shaky smile. “Yeah, it does. So now it’s just me and Chance here.” She smiles at him when he lets out a giant burp. “Oh!” she says with a giggle. “That was certainly a man-sized belch.”
“Boys definitely start young with that stuff. Wait until he’s about five. He’ll figure out how to burb on demand. You’ll love it.”
I hand the now-sleeping baby back to her and stand up. “Now that he’s content, and you have everything you need, shall we check out?”
We move toward the front of the store. “I guess it’s time to get this guy tucked in for the night. Huh,” she says thoughtfully. “I just realized my days of making midnight ice creams runs are over.”
I laugh in agreement. “Seems that way.” At the checkout line, I unload all the items on the conveyer belt and turn back to my cart. Looking down, I realize the only two items remaining are the giant pack of water and a box of condoms. I’m strangely embarrassed and suddenly glad the first impression I made was my knowledge of baby foods.
“Thanks so much for your help, uh….”
“Daniel,” I say. “My name’s Daniel.” I put out my hand.
“It’s nice to meet you, Daniel,” she replies, putting her small hand in mine. “My name is Quincy.”
“Nice to meet you, too.” We drop hands, and as I start to walk away, I turn. “Hey, Quincy.”
“Yeah?” she says, bouncing the baby up and down again.
“Trust your gut with him,” I say, tipping my head to the kid. “There’s no right or wrong answers. There are only the best answers you can provide in the moment. You are going to do great.”
She gives me a beaming smile, and I turn away, continuing with my overnight shopping adventure.
The air is cool and comfortable at the cemetery. But the breeze has a bite to it. That’s really the only kind of cold we get in Houston. I’m not really feeling it, though. I’m already cold, more out of numbness than anything.
I haven’t cried at all today. In fact, the last time I cried was the night Sarah died, when I was at the store freaking out about what to feed Chance. Since then it’s like I’ve been on autopilot.
Feed the baby. Call Sarah’s employer. Burp the baby. Meet with the funeral home. Change the baby.
Bury my sister.
I stare at the casket in front of me. Sarah lies inside of it.
I can’t believe I’m burying my baby sister.
Genevieve, my best friend and coworker, sits next to me, holding the baby. She keeps trying to quiet his cries while the preacher drones on about the sanctity of life and the need to treat every day as if it’s your last.
The baby always cries. Never stops. I wonder if he misses Sarah as much as I do.
Can babies feel grief? Does he understand she’s not here, and she’s not coming back?
I notice there are only a handful of people here. How did that happen?
Sarah was always so popular. People gravitated toward her. She was so bubbly and energetic and sweet as could be. How did she end up with less than a dozen people wanting to pay their last respects? Had her life really changed so drastically when she was pregnant?
A funeral home representative turns a crank, and the casket lowers into the ground. And still I don’t cry. I can’t. I just feel numb.
At the preacher’s cue, I stand and smooth down the skirt of my black sheath. I pick up the rose sitting on the chair next to me, walk over to the hole in the ground, look down, and drop it on top of the casket.
As it falls, scenes from Sarah’s life flash before my eyes.
The day Mom and Dad brought her home from the hospital and let me hold her for the first time. The Christmas we got matching American Girl dolls and swore they would be best friends forever. The one year we were in high school at the same time and went to every football game together. Holding each other’s hand at Dad’s funeral a few short years ago.
I will never hold her hand again.
That thought makes my eyes glassy, and a single tear slides down my cheek.
The high-pitched sound of Chance’s hunger-cry snaps me out of my memories. I turn around, and Geni hands him to me, then takes her own rose and drops it on top of mine.
In the few short days since we’ve been together, it’s clear Chance has decided my job is to meet his every need. He’s right. It is my job. I’m just surprised he figured it out that quickly.
I look down into his sweet eyes as I pop a bottle in his mouth.
“It’s you and me now, kid,” I say quietly to him, choking down a sob that’s threatening to erupt from my throat. “I know I’m not your momma, but I promise I’m going to do the best I can. And I will never let you forget how much your momma loved you. Because she loved you so, so much.”
Geni puts her arm around me and hugs us tight as the tears finally start to fall. I didn’t even feel her sit back down.
The last of the guests drop their roses as well, and the preacher says a prayer for peace and comfort. I pray God will listen to him because I feel neither peaceful nor comfortable.
The funeral is officially over, but Geni and I remain in our seats. There’s no reception to run off to. We might go out to lunch later, but I felt like the money would be better spent on finding a decent day care than providing food for a bunch of people I don’t know. Seeing how few actually showed up, I know I made the right decision.
Three or four people stop to say their condolences, including her former college roommate and a girl she had administrative assistant classes with. She tells me Sarah hadn’t finished her classes yet but was planning to return for the new semester. She’d been one semester away from graduating and being certifi
ed.
I recognize her best friend as she approaches. “Rachel.” I stand up to greet her and hug her as tightly as I can while holding the baby. “I’m so glad you came.”
She looks sad but numb. I recognize that look. It’s the same way I feel.
She glances at Chance and cups his small head. “So this is baby Chance,” she says with a small smile. “He looks so much like your dad.”
I crinkle my brow. “You haven’t met him before?”
She sighs and pets the fuzzy hair on his head. “When she dropped out of school,” she says quietly, “we didn’t see each other as much as we used to.”
I cock my head. The two of them had practically been inseparable. How could they lose touch so quickly?
As if Rachel can read my thoughts, she continues. “Sarah loved him so much from the beginning. Truly.” She looks up at me, as if she’s willing me to understand the intensity she’s trying to convey. “As soon as she was through the first trimester of her pregnancy, she rearranged her entire life to take care of him. Enrolled in vocational school so she could have a decent career as quickly as possible. Got on some government assistance. She shot to the top of the list for everything and moved out of the dorm. It happened so fast, I didn’t have time to settle into the ‘new normal,’ and I guess….” She clears her throat. “I guess I didn’t make enough effort to check on her.”
“Did she….” I try to find the words. “You weren’t there when he was born?”
She shakes her head with tears in her eyes. “She texted me a picture the day he was born. I was in class when I got it and promised her I’d visit.” A few tears leak down her cheeks as she whispers, “I never did.”
I understand the feeling of guilt all too well, and my heart breaks for her. None of us made the effort we should have. We were living our lives and doing our thing. So Sarah had her baby alone.
“Um, Rachel, do you know who his dad is?” I ask, hoping she can give me some answers. “There isn’t a name on his birth certificate, and I can’t figure out where to even start to find him.”
She sighs deeply. “The only thing I know is his name is Erik.”
“That’s it? You never met him?”
She shrugs. “The night she got pregnant, we had gone to a party at a friend of a friend’s place. You know how it goes. News of a good party travels through the grapevine, and everyone shows up.”
I nod even though I really don’t know. I never had the college experience, never went to parties. I was too busy trying to make ends meet after Dad died.
“We partied pretty hard. There was so much booze…. I honestly don’t remember the whole night.” She fidgets with her fingers. “When Sarah woke up the next morning, she knew she had slept with Erik, but he was gone. A couple months later, when she found out she was pregnant, we thought about trying to find him, but where would we begin? We didn’t even know where we partied since we rode with someone that night.”
I look at Chance as all this new information sinks in. He has no dad, no aunts and uncles, no grandparents. He’s all alone.
Like me.
I steel my resolve as I take in his features again: my dad’s brow line, his chin and eye color, Sarah’s face shape, my mother’s hands. The features of everyone I have lost, all put together in this tiny, precious little package.
I’m hit again with the reality that I’m all he has left. I have to be his everything. His needs are more immediate and important than mine.
It’s one of the scariest thoughts I’ve ever had.
“What are your plans now?” Geni asks, popping a french fry in her mouth.
Since neither of us had eaten before the service, we’d stopped by the local Culver’s for some greasy fast food.
I pick at my burger. I’m hungry but can’t quite find it in me to eat a whole lot yet. Sadness will do that to you. “I have to find a day care as soon as possible, one that’s open on Saturdays, too, since that’s my biggest work day.”
“Do you have any leads?” she asks, stealing some of my fries. I slide the container in her direction. I don’t want them anymore anyway.
“Angie texted me the name of her day care yesterday,” I say, wiping my greasy fingers on a napkin. “They’re open until late, which is great, but not on Saturdays. And I still don’t know if they’ll take a baby so young.” I look over at him sleeping in his carrier right next to me in the booth. “I have to get back to work, though. I’ve already missed enough days that money is gonna be tight the rest of the month.”
“Oh honey, please don’t worry about that,” Geni says. “You know I’ll help you out if you need it.”
“I know.” I feel the weight of it all on my shoulders. In a short amount of time, I’d lost my baby sister and ended up in charge of this tiny little one. Talk about a rapid life change. In my mind, I know I can do it. But my heart is having a hard time moving past the ache to get a plan in action.
“My sister has been looking for a way to save some Christmas money,” Geni says, breaking me from my pity party.
“Yeah?”
“She has two kids of her own.”
“Oh?”
“You’re not catching on to what I’m saying, are you?”
I giggle half-heartedly. “No, not really. I’m sorry. Lost in my thoughts. I’m good now. What were you saying?”
“Monica is looking for a way to supplement her income. I bet she’d love to watch Chance on Saturdays.”
I stop chewing. “Do you think she’d go for it? I mean, that would be great. She’s such an amazing mom.” Chance is still sleeping soundly. Thank goodness. It’s nice having a break from the crying.
“Please,” she says, waving her hand at me. “As long as you don’t mind the baby tagging along to their soccer games and whatever else, I think it could be kind of perfect.”
“Yeah, I think it could work. Will you text me her number?”
“Sure.” Geni brushes the crumbs off her hands and picks up her phone. “She already knows about you getting custody. She’s really impressed you would take on this kind of responsibility.” She presses some buttons on her phone and puts it away. My phone immediately registers the incoming text.
“I’m not sure there’s anything to be impressed about. What was I gonna do? Let the state take custody?”
“I know,” she says and takes a sip of her drink. “There’s not a lot of people our age who would take on someone else’s baby for eighteen years, nephew or not.”
I’m not sure why this is such a shock to most people. Wouldn’t everyone in my position do the same? I just have to figure out a way to muddle my way through for a while. Hopefully, once this day care situation is worked out, things will become more clear.
The bleating of the alarm on my phone jars me from sleep.
Fuck. I hate mornings. I especially hate mornings when I don’t know where I am.
I blink rapidly for a few seconds, looking around the room. Ah yes. Hotel room. Los Angeles.
Blonde hair is splayed across the pillow next to me. I scan her from top to bottom. Flawless, porcelain skin, hourglass shape, nice-sized tits. LA certainly doesn’t disappoint in the beautiful women department.
Hmm. If I wasn’t supposed to be in a van going to the airport in twenty minutes, I might think about a morning quickie. But coach would have my ass if I missed the flight home.
I fling back the covers and get up, looking at the woman in my bed. Nice ass, too.
I take a quick shower before packing my bags, making sure to put the dirty stuff on top for quick sorting when I get home.
I clutch her phone and my wallet and take a quick glance around the room.
Used condom in the trash can? Check.
Credit cards still in my wallet? Check.
Naked pics of me on her phone? Negative.
I’m good to go.
Does it suck I have to check those three things in particular whenever I hook up with someone? Sure. But protecting myself is way too import
ant. I’ve known guys who’ve ended up with either a kid, an empty bank account, or plastered all over the internet in all their glory. That won’t be me. I’m smarter than that.
Tucking my wallet in my back pocket and replacing her phone with my own, I pick up a pen and some complimentary stationary off the desk.
I leave the note under her phone and sneak out the door, closing it quietly behind me.
Calling her babe in a note seems really personal, but after our wild night, it’s doubtful I’ll remember her name. I rarely do. It’s nothing against her or anyone else I’ve ever hooked up with. I respect a woman who wants to get her rocks off as much as I do. Not everyone can separate emotional intimacy with straight up sex and I appreciate it when they can. But that doesn’t mean I’ll remember her name.
And really, last night was wild.
After a five to four win over the Galaxy, we were in the mood to party as a team. And party we did. The drinks were flowing and the chicks were willing. Plus today is a travel day, which means if you’re gonna nurse a hangover, today’s the day to do it.
From the looks on half of my teammates faces as I climb up the stairs of the bus, they’re all happy to not have practice or a game today.
“How do you not look like death right now?” Christian asks me, looking a weird shade of green.
Christian and I have played soccer together since college. We weren’t best friends or anything back then, but we were good teammates, and our social circles overlapped.
After college, I came straight to Houston while he was recruited to Seattle. When we both ended up in Houston a few years back, it was like we had never played for rival teams. He’s become one of my closest friends.
I laugh and slap him on the back. “Because unlike some of you, I didn’t believe the hot bartender when she said a couple of fireballs wouldn’t do a lot of damage.”
“She lied, man,” Christian says with a whimper. “She lied so bad.”
I chuckle and sit back, ready to get this bus moving and go home.