Copyright 2010 by Melodie Starkey
E-Book ISBN: 978-1-61789-875-4
Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 1
Persistent pounding. Gus staggered out of bed, trying to shake the fog from his brain. In the entry he demanded, “What?”
“Open the goddamn door! It’s cold out here!”
Maureen? He frowned and fumbled with the chain lock, then swung open the door. “Maureen?”
She blew in past him on a gust of icy air, her arms around a large bundle. “I see you’re still the same old slob.”
“I wasn’t expecting royalty. Why are you here?”
“Don’t worry. I’m not staying. Just bringing you your business.” She plopped the bundle on the couch.
“My what?” He moved toward it warily, pushing his overgrown mop of hair back. It appeared to be a pile of dirty laundry. Not his own.
“Here.” She handed him an envelope, then waved, “Ta!” and hurried out.
Just as he started to open the envelope, the laundry made a noise. He began peeling back the layers carefully. Blanket. Several square white rags like his mother used for cleaning. A trash bag, which was knotted closed. Some smaller blankets with blue and yellow stripes. More noise now. He had a sinking feeling of what he was about to find. When he moved the last thermal blanket, the baby let out a loud sob. “Oh, shit. What am I supposed to do with you?”
Finally, he opened the envelope, thinking, she can’t blame this on me. It’s been over ten months since we split up. There was a birth certificate and a vaccination record from the health department. October 14. So it was nearly four months old. Probably his. Crap. A boy, Addison Lester Moore. What the hell kind of name was that? Maybe he could get it changed. If he kept it.
Finally he set the papers aside and turned back to his problem. “If I pick you up, you gotta not puke on me. Deal?”
The baby’s crying slowed as it eyed him. Gus held out his hands, and it stopped crying in anticipation. He raised it out of the bundle, and understood what all of the white rags were: diapers. The one the baby had on was soaked. “Tell you what, buddy. First thing you’re going to learn about is disposable diapers. Let’s see if we can fake it for tonight.”
He pulled out a few of the dry diapers, then looked at the way the wet one was being held on. It seemed to be folded in some sort of triangle, with two big pins holding it. No way. He crossed to the desk and dug in the drawer, then headed back to the couch. “Okay, I want one hundred percent cooperation on this, understood?”
The baby smiled.
“Good.” He laid him back down and carefully removed the wet diaper. “I see she gave you your first taste of emasculation,” he commented, seeing the tiny circumcised head. He folded several layers of diaper between the baby’s legs, then held it all together with a few wraps of duct tape. Gus lifted him; it stayed in place. “Perfect. Let’s see what else is in this mess.” With the baby sitting on his thigh, he continued to rifle the pile, finally opening the trash bag to discover plastic bottles and a can of Enfamil powder. “Score! You hungry? Personally, I’m cold. You gotta be cold, too. Got any clothes in here?” He dug some more, turning up one well worn Chicago Bears sweatshirt. Probably from a thrift shop. Not like Maureen to waste money on clothes for anyone besides herself. He added winter clothes to his mental shopping list. A crib. Christ. It was so like her to spring this on him at three in the morning and four months after the fact. He knew he hated her for good reasons.
He laid the baby on the bed and dressed himself, then went to the kitchen and mixed two bottles of formula according to the instructions on the can. By the time he returned to the bedroom, Addison was crying again. “Okay, okay! I’m here.” He had brought a few of the receiving blankets with him from the pile, knowing enough about babies to know this part involved vomit.
The baby sucked the bottle eagerly, burped one juicy burp, and fell asleep with the nipple still in his mouth. Gus studied him silently. This was his child. Everything this child learned or experienced was his responsibility, starting right this minute. He set the bottle aside, and lifted the baby, kissing his head. It smelled sour and dusty. With a headshake, Gus took them both to bed, cradling his son in his arms.
Chapter 2
As he woke, the smell hit him first. He opened his eyes, frowning confusion at the burbling baby next to him. Becoming more awake, he said, “You stink. Am I going to get really grossed out here?”
Addison smiled at him.
“Great. Let me introduce you to the kitchen sink. I have some super Dial soap.”
After a soggy bath and a bottle, he taped on another diaper and decided they couldn’t postpone shopping any longer. He considered the stores nearby. No, he needed the suburbs. Needed a WalMart. He dressed the baby in a sweatshirt of his own, using the duct tape to custom fit it, then bundled him up in a blanket from his bed. In the car, he put him on the floor of the passenger side where it was warmest, advising him, “Don’t talk to any cops if they stop us, got it?”
He could feel people staring at him as he carried his bundle around the store in one arm and pushed the shopping cart with the other. He quickly picked up a car seat, two packages of Pampers, four more cans of Enfamil powder, and several six-month size sweatsuits that were on sale. He paused to check out a plastic baby bathtub, but the sink had really worked fine. He added a bottle of Mennen Baby Bath and a box of baby wipes to the cart.
Back at the car, he set his bundle in front while he read the instructions for the car seat. While he was clambering around in back, trying to feed the seatbelt through correctly, there was a tap on the roof of the car. He climbed out and frowned at the parking lot security guard. “Yeah?”
“Your car?”
No. I just randomly install car seats for unsuspecting victims. “Yes. Why?”
“Would you mind if I ask for proof?”
“I do mind, yes. It’s cold, and I want to get this damn thing in place so I can take my son home.”
“That your son?” The gua
rd gestured to the bundle on the seat.
“Yes. Do you want proof of that, too? I don’t happen to have any with me.”
“No need to get testy, fellah. It’s just a little odd lookin’, you showing up here with a baby but no car seat, see?”
Gus took a deep breath, then nodded. “That’s why I’m buying one. His mother left last night. Took the car seat with her. Not the type to have the consideration of bringing it back, you know? I’m feeling just a little bit stressed right now.”
Suddenly the man was all courtesy. “I’m sorry to hear that, fellah. That’s rough. Here—let me give you a hand with that thing. Been through three kids myself; I’m an old hand at this.”
“Thank you. Let me put a new diaper on him, then.”
“How old’s he?” The man asked as he climbed into the back seat.
“Three and a half months.”
“Ah. Then we got to put this in backwards. Lie it down some. Don’t turn it back around forwards for a few months, until he’s pretty steady in the spine, you know?”
“Oh. Thanks.” Gus dug a sweatsuit and a diaper out of the bag, then unbundled the baby as little as possible to try to keep him warm.
The guard glanced over just as he lifted off the duct-taped diaper. “What on earth?”
“I was afraid of those pins. Didn’t want to poke him.” He shook his head. “This is going to be a disaster.”
The man finished buckling in the car seat and climbed out, then patted Gus’s shoulder. “Look, don’t let this overwhelm you. You sure she’s gone?”
“Oh, yes. Probably out of state by now.”
“See, there’s lots of people out there can help you. If you ain’t up to this, you might want to consider adoption.”
Gus frowned. “This is my son.”
The man nodded. “I’d feel the same way. Just don’t think you gotta do this alone. You got any kin nearby?”
He imagined asking his sister and her tight-assed husband for help. “No.”
“Well, then, I guess I’m gonna have to be your support system. Here.” He pulled out a business card. “Name’s Harry Krimmers. You call me or the Missus any time. I’ll tell her about you. And if you need a babysitter or something, we can put you in touch with some of the girls at the church. You got a church?”
Gus smiled and nodded vaguely. He had done some painting in a church once. “Thank you, Harry.” He held out his hand. “Gus Moore. I’m feeling a little less panicked already.”
“Good. Now get that li’l whipper snapper strapped in snug here, and get on home.”
“Thank you.” He settled the baby into the car seat and adjusted the straps some, then tucked the big blanket over him again. As he corralled the shopping cart and started to climb in, Harry added, “Any chance you thought to buy a pacifier?”
“No. You think I should?”
“Man’s best friend. Pick ‘em up anywhere—gas station or grocery store. Next time you’re out, stock up.”
“Thanks. I will. Thanks again!” He drove slowly away, aware that Harry was studying his car. Probably noting the license plate. He’d be suspicious of himself, too.
When they got home, he put all the new baby clothes and any of the blankets that looked redeemable in the washer, then fed Addison (Christ, what a name!) a bottle while eating a bowl of chili and drinking orange juice from the carton. He liked the heavy, trusting way the child molded to his body. After lunch, he dug the Penney’s catalog out of a stack of magazines, and started making a list: crib, mattress, more clothes, stroller, a musical bear. Next, he turned on his computer and ordered several baby care manuals from Amazon for overnight delivery.
Feeling more in control now, he took time to really look at his child. Addison’s head had wispy blonde hair covering it in a linty sort of way. His ears had the large lobes that ran in Gus’s family. Inside they were filthy. Did he dare insert a swab in them? Ten fingers and ten toes, the nails too long on all of them. He experimented with plucking one with his own nail and discovered they were very soft; he was able to peel them down to a normal length with ease. His stomach had a red rash on it, which Gus recalled seeing on his bottom as well. Did he need medicine? Probably just needed better hygiene. He would see what the books said. It certainly didn’t look life threatening. All in all he seemed to be a pretty normal looking baby. Maybe even leaning to the cute side, especially when he smiled.
Once Addison fell asleep, Gus got inspired to clean the living room and kitchen, hauling out mountains of accumulated junk mail, magazines, and general trash. He found when he actually washed every dish, he could barely fit them into what were usually empty cupboards. He mopped the floor and admired it from the doorway until the baby began to cry. After another bottle, they took a bath together. The baby burbled happily as he stroked him with the washrag full of Mennen Baby Bath, then rinsed him by cupping water in his hands and dribbling it over him as he lay propped against Gus’s raised knees. Suddenly a small golden arc raised out of the water.
“Okay, we need to talk about that,” Gus informed him.
Addison waved his arms.
“Let’s get out of here before you decide to finish that thought.”
Chapter 3
The crib and other items arrived on Thursday. By then, he felt like a pro, although he knew he was lucky that so far none of the dozens of potential problems listed in his books had gone wrong. After a couple of baths, the baby’s rash had even completely disappeared. He had followed Harry’s advice on one thing: they took a walk to the White Hen for more diapers when he realized the ones he had purchased were too large, and he also picked up four pacifiers. Addison took to them with great gusto, smiling just to see them.
He was relieved to get the crib, worried both that the baby would suddenly become mobile and fall off the bed, or that he might smother him in his sleep. He assembled it in his bedroom, although he had originally planned to clear out his study and put it in there. Plenty of time for that in the future. After putting the baby in it for the first time and winding up the musical bear, he just stood beside it gazing at him until Addison had put himself to sleep sucking his pacifier. Then he sat on the couch and said out loud, “So what are we gonna do now?”
That question was answered for him a few days later, when the doorbell rang. He peered out, not recognizing the two people on the porch. Looked like Mormons. “Hello?”
“We’re looking for Mr. August Moore,” the woman stated.
“That’s me. Who are you?”
“Mrs. Collins and Mr. Harris. We’re from Child Services.” She extended her business card. “We’d like to talk to you for a moment, if that would be all right.”
He smiled and gestured them in. “Any chance Mr. Krimmers sent you?”
“Mr. Krimmers?”
“Never mind. What can I do for you?”
“Mr. Moore, is it true you have a child living with you?”
“Yes.”
“Just out of nowhere?”
“Not at all. I know where he came from.”
They waited a moment, then she finally asked, “Could you tell us?”
“Tell you where babies come from? That was your mom’s job.” He chuckled, then shook his head. “He came from a birth control malfunction about a year ago. Reason I have him is that his self-centered bitch of a mother got tired of the inconvenience, so she dumped him on me last week.”
“But he’s yours?”
“Yes.”
“Why are you sure of that?”
“We were living together. It wasn’t a casual thing.” He shrugged. “My name’s on his birth certificate. Want to see it? He has my big ears.”
“Could we see him instead?” Mr. Harris asked.
“Okay. But he’s asleep.” He gestured them toward the bedroom. He could see them taking in the whole room before moving to peer into the crib. Busy bodies.
Addison stirred as they neared, then started fussing. Gus stepped around them and picked him up, gently rubbing hi
s head and whispering, “Shh. I got you.” The baby silenced.
“Mr. Moore, before last week, how much contact did you have with your child?”
“None. We’re not on speaking terms—Maureen and I. She just came in here and dumped him on the couch in a pile of dirty blankets and left.”
“And all this?” Mr. Harris gestured the crib with the White Sox bedding and the stack of clean clothes in a basket on the chair.
“I bought it. My issues with her have nothing to do with him.”
They were silent for a bit. Gus finally said, “I need to change him, okay?” He retrieved a diaper and lay the baby on the bed.
They watched without speaking until he was through, then Mrs. Collins said, “What is it that you do for a living?”
“I write computer games. Work from home. Set my own hours.”
“That’s convenient. You don’t feel having a child around will interfere with that?”
“Of course it will. But I waste a lot of time, anyway. I might have to learn to manage it a little better. I’m going to get a bottle. You want some coffee?” He led them to the kitchen.
“If you’re making it anyway,” she replied.
“Have a seat. Do you want to hold him?”
“I’d love to.” She held out her hands and smiled at the baby, who began to fuss again. Gus reached into the cupboard and materialized a pacifier for her. She chuckled. “You’re good at this.”
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