She Gets That from Me

by Robin Wells

  I look at the card. Sarah Merckel, Psychologist, Individual/Family Counseling. “Thanks.” It would be great if Jessica would agree to talk to a professional, but I don’t hold out much hope. I stick the card in my pocket all the same.

  Lily bursts through the door like a little cannonball. Annie is right behind her, carrying a bulging white paper bag.

  “Daddy!” she exclaims, hurling herself at me. I pick her up again. “Can I call you that, or do I need to call you Donor? Mommy tol’ me I had to say ‘donor,’ not ‘daddy,’ but now you’re here, so you’re a daddy, right?”

  “You can call me whatever you like,” I say. My heart seems to have migrated to my throat, where it sits in a lump.

  “Good.” She hugs my neck as if she’s known me forever.

  Annie opens the bag and pulls out single-serve vanilla ice cream cups like I used to get in grade school. “We couldn’t find any ice cream in the cafeteria, but a nurse helped us raid the patient freezer.”

  “Well, let’s get this party started!” Lauren says.

  The women bustle around, cutting the cake and putting pieces on little pink plastic plates. It’s red velvet cake with vanilla icing.

  “Lily, would you like to pass out the party gear?” Quinn asks. Lily scrambles out of my arms, takes a plastic bag marked Party City from Quinn, and hands out pointed hats and noisemakers as if it’s extremely important business.

  “Lily, what’s the rule on birthday hats?” Quinn prompts.

  “Everyone has to wear one,” Lily announces.

  All of the women smile and gamely don little dunce hats printed with cakes and candles. I do, too, and so does Mac. “Is it just me, or do we all look like we just increased our intelligence?” I joke.

  Everyone laughs.

  “I have a princess crown for Grams,” Lily announces. Quinn pulls a rhinestone tiara from her purse and carefully places it on Miss Margaret’s head.

  “We can’t have candles because of the oxygen, but we can sing ‘Happy Birthday,’” Quinn says. She hands Lily a plastic plate with a piece of cake and an ice cream cup on it, and whispers something in her ear.

  Lily carefully carries it over to the bed and holds it up toward Miss Margaret. “Happy birthday to you . . .” she sings in an angelic little voice. Everyone joins in, and the song ends in a boisterous finale.

  “Oh, how nice. How very, very nice!” Margaret says, accepting the cake from Lily. “This looks delicious.”

  Cake and ice cream are handed out all around, along with paper cups of sparkling water. I stand against the wall and eat cake with a white plastic fork.

  My eyes keep going to Quinn. She’s carrying my baby. It’s an unnerving, jarringly intimate thing to contemplate.

  No wonder Jessica is upset. I toss my plate in the trash, wondering what on earth I can say or do to help her cope with the situation.

  A woman in pink scrubs walks in. Her badge identifies her as a nurse’s aide. “It’s almost time for physical therapy, Mrs. Moore.”

  “Oh, no!” Margaret says. “Can we do it later? I’ve got guests.”

  “I’m sorry, but the therapist is nearly ready, and you’re her last patient of the day.”

  “We promised we’d only be here an hour,” Quinn says. “I think we’ve overstayed our welcome.”

  “But you haven’t opened your presents!” exclaims Lily.

  “I can do that later, dear,” Miss Margaret says. “It’ll extend the pleasure of the celebration.”

  “I’ll be back with the therapist in a moment.” The aide leaves the room.

  “Well, we’d better say our good-byes,” Quinn says.

  Annie gathers up everyone’s plates and cups, then puts them in the trash. Mac picks up the hats, Sarah collects the extra supplies, and everyone files by Miss Margaret to kiss her cheek and tell her good-bye.

  “Let’s leave the extra cake and hats at the nurses’ station,” Quinn suggests.

  “Good idea,” Lauren says.

  “Thank you—all of you. This has been wonderful,” Miss Margaret says. “And, Quinn, dear—congratulations! When is your wedding?”

  Quinn’s eyebrows rise. “Oh, I’m not getting married!”

  “No?” Miss Margaret frowns.

  The room goes silent. Everyone looks so frozen and surprised, it could have been a bad Botox party.

  “No. I’m having the baby as a single mother, like Brooke. Zack already has a wife.”

  “Oh, yes. Yes, of course.” She smooths the covers of her bedding, as if trying to smooth over the gaffe. “Silly me—she was here earlier. My mind just doesn’t work right yet. You’re having Lily’s brother or sister, right? And it’s wonderful—just wonderful.”

  Lily looks at Quinn. “You’re having a baby?” she asks.

  Apparently she’d been too caught up in discovering that I was her father for the news about the baby to register.

  Quinn looks frazzled. “Yes, sweetie, if everything goes right.”

  “Whaddya mean?”

  Quinn brushes a strand of hair out of Lily’s eyes. “Well, remember when you and your mommy planted those bean seeds? Some of them sprouted and grew into healthy plants and some didn’t. It’s sort of like that right now with the baby. It’s too early to know for sure whether or not it will keep growing.”

  “But if it does, I’ll be a big sister?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yippee!” Lily jumps up and down like a wild thing, hopping across the room.

  The aide returns with a wheelchair. A woman wearing a lanyard printed with Occupational Therapist is right behind her.

  “I’m gonna be a big sister!” Lily announces, hopping from leg to leg. She points at me. “An’ I just found out he’s my daddy!”

  I muster a tense smile for the stunned-faced therapist, then turn to Margaret. “Happy birthday. It was nice seeing you again.”

  “The pleasure was all mine,” she says.

  “Say good-bye to Grams,” Quinn tells Lily.

  “Bye, Grams. I’m gonna be a big sister!”

  “Yes, dear. That’s what I hear,” Miss Margaret says.

  I hold the door. Lily stops and turns to me.

  “Are you coming home with us?”

  “What?” I ask.

  “Well, now that you’re my daddy, won’t you live with us?”

  I’m keenly aware of the occupational therapist and the aide standing in the room, unabashedly listening to every word. I wish Lily would just go out the door, but she’s blocking the opening, waiting for an answer.

  “No, Lily,” Quinn says. “Zack’s married to Miss Jessica.”

  “The pretty lady who got sad?” Lily asks, turning to me.

  The aide and the therapist’s eyes get even larger and rounder.

  “Um, yes,” I say.

  “Why was she sad?” Lily asks.

  “Good Lord—sounds like an episode of Maury Povich just happened in here,” the aide whispers to the therapist.

  I urge Lily through the door and quickly follow her out.

  “Why was she sad?” Lily repeats in the hallway.

  I’m relieved to hear the door close behind me.

  “It’s all grown-up stuff,” Quinn says.

  Lily wrinkles her nose. “Grown-up stuff seems awful.”

  Yeah, kiddo—a lot of it is.

  Quinn pauses to leave the rest of the cake at the nurses’ station and to thank them for their care of Margaret. We head to the elevator, and ride down to the lobby with Sarah, Annie, and two strangers.

  We manage to make it down to the lobby before Lily speaks again. “Maybe Daddy an’ the sad lady can both move in with us.”

  “Honey, they have their own home,” Quinn says as we walk into the atrium, “and they’re moving far away in a few weeks.”

&nb
sp; “What?” Lily sounds stricken. “Daddy’s moving away?”

  Quinn gestures to a grouping of chairs. “Maybe we should sit for a minute so we’re not blocking people.”

  I nod. We sit down in side-by-side chairs, and Quinn gathers Lily on her lap. Sarah and Annie move to the other side of the lobby, but don’t leave.

  “How far away is he moving?” Lily asks.

  “A long, long way,” Quinn answers.

  “As far as Grams’s house?”

  “A whole lot further.”

  Lily turns to me, her eyes distressed. “Why do you have to move? I want you to be like Alicia’s daddy.”

  “Honey, Zack was a donor.” Quinn rubs Lily’s arm. “He was never supposed to be a real father. Your mommy explained it to you, remember? Your donor is a nice man who made it possible for you to be born, but he’s not a part of your life like a real father.”

  “But why not? He’s here, an’ he likes me, an’ he says I can call him Daddy.”

  “That’s just a name; it isn’t what he’ll really be, not in the day-to-day sense.”

  Quinn gives me a look. If expressions could talk—and hers most certainly does—this one is saying, Listen up, buddy, and listen good.

  “If Zack wants to, he can write you letters and you can draw him pictures and send them to him,” Quinn says. “But he’ll have his own life, and his own family.”

  Lily twists toward me. “Why can’t I be your family, too?”

  I want to tell her that she is. Quinn must sense it, because she puts a staying hand on my arm and shoots me a warning glare.

  “Because your mommy never met him, and he signed a contract saying he was just a donor.” Quinn’s voice is firm, her tone final. “You weren’t supposed to meet him or even know his name until you’re all grown up. The fact that you’ve met him now is lagniappe.”

  “What’s lagniappe?”

  “It’s a bonus—something extra that you didn’t expect to happen.”

  “Like when Mommy died?”

  The color leaves Quinn’s face. She blinks fast. “No, honey. That was a tragedy. A tragedy is when something terrible happens.”

  “I really miss Mommy.” Lily’s blue eyes fill with tears. “An’ I hoped I had a real daddy.”

  “I know, Lily.” Quinn uses her thumb to wipe away a tear on Lily’s cheek. “But Zack is a really nice donor.”

  “It’s not the same.” Big tears drop from both of her eyes.

  “No, honey.” Quinn looks at me over the top of Lily’s head. This look begs, Please don’t confuse the issue for her. “It’s not.”

  “But I’m still gonna be a big sister?” Lily says hopefully.

  “Yes, you are—if the baby continues to grow.”

  “Yay!” She smiles, her face still wet with tears.

  Sarah has been lurking at the edges of the waiting area. “Hey, Lily,” she calls. “Will you help me look in my purse? I think I have a package of Bubble Yum, but I can’t seem to find it.”

  Lily bounds across the room.

  Quinn looks at me. It’s a leveling gaze; she’s just told me the lay of the land.

  * * *

  —

  WE SIT IN silence for a moment, watching Lily paw through Sarah’s large bag. “This news comes as quite a shock,” I say.

  “I didn’t intend for you to find out like that.”

  “Did you intend for me to find out at all?”

  She looks away. “Like Brooke, I thought I was getting an anonymous donor.”

  Of course she did. That’s what I agreed to on the contract. I blow out a sigh. “You and I need to talk.”

  “Yeah. But not here, and not now.”

  I run my hand down my face and nod. I’m emotionally fried. I need to get my thoughts together, and I still have to deal with Jessica. “Tomorrow afternoon, maybe?”

  She nods. “I’ll make arrangements for someone to watch Lily.”

  I’d never really thought before about how a parent or guardian has to make arrangements in order to do anything without the child. I mean, I’d known a child ties you down, but I hadn’t really thought about what that meant on a day-to-day basis. I’d thought in terms of babies, and they seem pretty portable. Quinn’s world must have been turned upside down by getting guardianship of Lily. “Where and when do you want to meet?”

  “How about five thirty at my shop? I don’t usually work on Saturdays, but I need to go in for a few hours.”

  “Great. I’ll see you then.”

  She stands. “Tell your wife it was nice to meet her.”

  Jessica. The thought of her makes a knot of dread spin in my chest.

  I head over to Lily, who has successfully extracted a pack of sugarless gum from Sarah’s purse and is now chomping on a big pink wad. I squat down to her level. “See you later, princess.”

  “Okay.” She flings herself into my arms. “I love you, Daddy.”

  “Back at you, Lily.” I kiss the top of her head. She smells like baby shampoo and bubblegum. I breathe it in and smile. The scent and the smile stay with me as I push through the exit into the heat of the parking garage, but I lose them both when I open my car door and inhale a trace of Jessica’s perfume from the night before.

  * * *

  —

  JESSICA’S CAR IS in her parking spot in the garage, but our condo is empty when I walk through the door. I’m relieved to have some time to myself. I pull an Abita out of the fridge and head out to the terrace. It’s only May, but in New Orleans, that can mean eighty-plus degrees. The worst of the day’s heat is over, though. The terrace is in the shade, and a breeze from the river is cooling things off.

  I pop the top on my beer and gaze out at the rooftops. Man, I wish I could talk to my dad! Why can’t we have visiting hours with folks in heaven, like they have in the ICU?

  I decide to call my sister. I’ve been in touch with her since I discovered Lily, and I texted her photos after our day at the zoo.

  “How’s that adorable little girl?” she asks after we exchange initial greetings.

  “She’s amazing. Can you talk?”

  “Sure, if you don’t mind the clatter of pots and pans. I’m fixing dinner.”

  I tell her the day’s events.

  “A baby?” Her voice is incredulous. “You’re going to have another donor child?”

  “Looks like it.”

  “Oh my gosh! And Lily knows you’re her father?”

  I can’t help but humble-brag a little. “She calls me Daddy.”

  “Oh, Zack! How’s this going to work?”

  “I don’t know. I’m meeting with Quinn tomorrow to talk about things.” I sigh. “I don’t want to show up and then disappear, like some kind of deadbeat dad. Yet I’m technically just a sperm donor.”

  “But you want to be more than that, right?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I can’t even imagine meeting one of my kids for the first time at the age of three.” I hear pots clang on her end of the phone. “From the way you talked about Lily before, I could tell that she really affected you.”

  “Yeah. And now to learn that there’s another baby on the way . . .”

  “It’s mind-boggling!”

  “Exactly.”

  “How did Jessica take it?”

  “Not well.” I describe what happened.

  “Poor thing!” I hear more dishes rattling around. “After all her efforts to get pregnant!”

  I hear the key in the door. My stomach feels like I ate a bunch of rocks. “She’s home,” I say. “I’d better go.”

  “All right, Zack-man.” I smile at the childhood nickname. “Good luck with everything.”

  “Thanks. Talk to you later.” I hang up, take a long pull of beer, and then walk back into the living room.
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  Jessica is wearing workout clothes. “I thought hitting the machines might help with the stress.”

  “Good idea.” I’m relieved to see that she’s calmer than she was at the hospital.

  She perches on a barstool at the kitchen island and tilts her water bottle to her mouth. I sit down beside her.

  “What happened after I left?” she asks.

  “Lily came back with ice cream, and we had ice cream and cake.”

  She gives me an exasperated look. “Seriously.”

  “I’m completely serious,” I say with a cajoling smile. “It was red velvet cake. We all put on hats and sang ‘Happy Birthday.’ Except Margaret—she wore a tiara.”

  Anger flares in her eyes. “I can’t believe you’re jerking me around right now.”

  “I’m not jerking you around,” I say. “I’m telling you exactly what happened, and hoping to lighten things up a little.” I used to be able to do that.

  “I’m not in the mood for trivia or levity. What happened with Lily?”

  I blow out a sigh. “She got all excited when she realized she was going to be a big sister. She’d been too distracted by the news that I was her father to grasp that Quinn is having a baby.”

  “Does she know it’s your baby?” Her eyes fill with tears.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “She must, if she’s excited about being a sister.”

  I lift my shoulders. “Quinn is her mother figure, so maybe that’s the reason.”

  Jess rises and gets a paper towel. She dabs at her face. “I can’t believe this is happening. You had no clue Quinn was pregnant?”

  I shake my head. “No. Looking back, there were a few things I maybe should have picked up on. She got nauseated a couple of times and treated it by eating something, but she said it was low blood sugar.”

  “You didn’t tell me that.”

  “Yeah, well, there was a lot going on.”

  “How do you feel about it?” Jessica asks.

  “I’m in shock.”

  “That’s all you have to say?” She looks at me with affronted eyes, as if I’m offering her a piece of celery while I’m wolfing down a cheeseburger.