The Second Home

by Christina Clancy

  “Ann, you know, she could go after me. Sure. She could drag me through legal hell. But why do that when what she really wants and needs right now, bottom line, is my financial support? What I’m saying, Michael, is that if word of this situation gets out, if the wheels come off my marriage, I’ll be cut off, a pauper. Here’s the plan: I’ve set up an account in your name at a bank here in Milwaukee, you just need to sign some paperwork. I’ll be on the account, too, but it’ll look like it’s yours. Every month it’ll look like it’s you who sent money, and that’s good for you, right? That way your parents won’t think you’re a deadbeat.”

  A deadbeat. Michael couldn’t stand the idea of Ed and Connie thinking of him in those terms. He’d never get Ann—or anyone—pregnant, and then run off. Never.

  “I can’t,” Michael said. He thought of the way Ed had looked at him that night when he’d discovered Ann curled up in his bed. He didn’t ever want to see that expression of anger and disappointment cross his face again, couldn’t stand the idea of it. “Her parents, they’ve been so good to me. I don’t want them to think I’d ever—”

  “Oh Michael, it’s too late for you to worry about your reputation with them. They wish they’d never adopted you, don’t you know that? That’s what Ann tells me. You can have lots of reasons to hesitate to accept my offer, but that family isn’t one of them. You’ve already let them down.” Anthony wiped the rim of his wineglass with the corner of his napkin, staining it for no reason. “They were just trying to be nice. Liberal guilt, you know?”

  “She told you that?” He thought of what Ann had said earlier that day: Get out of my life!

  “But Ann, she believes in you. She knows that after everything she’s done for you, that you’ll help her through this.”

  “Why don’t you just man up and be honest? Say you’re the father.”

  Anthony sighed, as if this whole discussion was too tiresome for him. “You know I can’t do that. What I can do, what I’m trying to do at least, what Ann is also trying to do, is come up with a creative way to support her.”

  Michael pushed his chair away from the heavy table and stood up. He threw his coat back on and started for the door.

  Anthony followed him. “If you walk away right now, Ann will suffer.”

  “I want to talk to her.”

  “She’s got nothing to say. This is her plan, remember? She thought this was a great idea. And it is. We can look shiny as diamonds. Hear me out.”

  Michael shook his head. No. He thought he might faint. He couldn’t move, couldn’t focus on anything but the carpet below his feet, the hum of voices and music.

  “You don’t think we’d ask you to do this for nothing, do you? There’s something in it for you. Quite a significant something.” He pulled out his wallet and unfolded a check written out to Michael, and pressed it into his hand. Fifty thousand dollars.

  “Is this real?”

  Anthony laughed. “Yes, it’s real. I recognize this sacrifice comes at no small cost to you. I need to make it worth your while.”

  Michael had to look twice at the number, and read it spelled out in fancy script: Fifty thousand and 00/100 dollars. More money than he’d ever seen in one place. Anthony pulled another check out of his wallet. “And here’s another check just like that one. You can go ahead, keep both of them. But if you do, Ann gets nothing. Or, if you love your sister, you pocket one, sign over the other, say you’re the dad, and then you disappear.”

  “You’re bribing me.”

  “Oh, I don’t think of it that way. I’m simply making an unpleasant situation less unpleasant for all of us.”

  Michael fingered the edges of the checks, tempted to rip them in half. It was just paper, after all, yet in that moment, the checks felt like they were made of steel.

  “I’m willing to pay to prevent this from destroying my life. Ann understands this, she does. I have the best lawyers, and I know the kinds of people who could screw Ann over, leave her with nothing. Screw both of you over. I don’t want to do that, I really don’t. You’re nice kids. But I’ll do whatever it takes to protect myself and my family. Just sign the paperwork and the check and let’s get this over with.”

  Anthony led the way back to the table, and Michael grudgingly followed. Then Anthony slid some papers out of his leather attaché case. He seemed like the kind of guy who was always whipping out paperwork—making deals, talking people into doing things they shouldn’t do, not giving them much choice in the matter while making them feel like all the choices were theirs. He set the papers on the table and pushed them toward Michael. “I need your signature here”—he tapped a line next to an X on the top piece of paper— “and here.” He flipped the paper over. “And this is where you write down your social security number for the trust.” He pressed a pen into Michael’s hand. Not just any pen, but the fancy kind you get for graduation. Like a surgeon picking the proper tool for an operation. This pen felt heavy and involved, perfect for the task at hand.

  “You can start a business,” Anthony said. “You can be your own man. All you have to do is say the kid is yours—that’s it. This is the easiest money that’ll ever come your way. Go out West or something. Go to college. See the world. You’re eighteen now. An adult. Nobody is going to chase after you. You’re free to make your own life.”

  Michael knew it should be easy to sign his name, but his hand wouldn’t move. He was signing the last two years of his life away, signing away Ed and Connie, Poppy and Ann, his life in Milwaukee. Cape Cod. Everything that mattered to him. Signing his name was more like erasing it.

  “Like I said, it’ll look like it’s coming from you.”

  “Where are her parents going to think I got that much money?”

  “Their only concern is that their daughter is taken care of. Look, my life is complicated, Michael. Complicated in ways you wouldn’t understand. Your life, on the other hand, is simple. You can just tell one little lie, pocket a chunk of money, leave a family you were never really a part of, and the girl who never loved you back the way you wanted her to. Ann did a lot for you, I get it. But now her future is in your hands. Everyone will think you’re the father anyway. Do the right thing.”

  Anthony was right: everyone would think Michael was the father. Everyone. But Ann—she really came up with this plan? She really loved this guy? Slept with him again and again? When she’d come to his bed that summer, was she upset because he wouldn’t leave Maureen? He might not have believed what Anthony told him if he hadn’t heard the coldness in her voice that morning, if she hadn’t been so distant for the past few months. And now she was willing to use Michael to help Anthony? Couldn’t she see what Anthony was? She loved this sack of shit? Then again, his mother had loved Marcus. He treated her terribly and still she’d loved him.

  “I hate you,” Michael said. He looked Anthony right in the eye.

  “I get that. I’d hate me too if I were you. Just sign.”

  And that’s what Michael did. He signed quickly, wherever he was told, before he could change his mind. And just like that, he became nobody.

  Michael stood, put on his coat, and looked at the revolving door near the exit. He was overcome by a hot, explosive rage. He understood now why Anthony wanted to discuss this matter in a public place. He knew that Michael would want to hurt him. And he did: just like that he reached forward to strike Anthony, forgetting that Anthony was quick as a wrestler. He grabbed his wrist, twisted it so hard Michael could have sworn it broke, and let go. Michael yanked his aching arm back. Anthony stared at him, a stare that dared Michael to try again, a stare that was oddly calculated. Michael couldn’t lead with his right hand, so he used his left, and landed a sloppy hook on the side of Anthony’s nose. It couldn’t have hurt him. The family at the next table gasped.

  Anthony stood and addressed them. “Will you please ask the bartender to call security?”

  His face was right next to Michael’s ear. He whispered, “I’m going to press charges if you don�
��t get the hell out of here. Get lost, Michael. Go away. Disappear. Nobody cares about you. Not me. Certainly not Ann. Just take the money and run, and don’t you dare try to make contact with either of us. As far as you’re concerned, you never saw me. I’ve never stepped foot in this tired industrial town. That other paper you signed? It’s a silence agreement. Break it, and you’ll be in debt for the rest of your life, I’ll make sure of it.”

  Michael saw the security guard in the distance. He spit on Anthony and made a run for it. He burst through the revolving doors and stumbled onto the sidewalk. He picked himself up and ran away from the hotel, away from Lake Michigan, away from the Gordon family home. Breathless, a few blocks south on Broadway, he caught his reflection in the giant plate-glass windows of the Grain Exchange and saw what everyone else saw: just some horny, troubled kid living with two beautiful girls his own age, a lovesick “stray” who would take advantage of any situation. He was an opportunist. He could feel that check in his back pocket—proof.

  He couldn’t believe Ann would turn on him.

  One thing was certain: he could never go back to the Gordons’ house. That part of his life was over, ripped away from him. He walked to the Greyhound station with nothing but his backpack. He used the pay phone at the station to leave a message on the Gordons’ voice-message machine. “Look, I’m sorry about what I did to Ann,” he said. He couldn’t bear to say he’d gotten her pregnant, couldn’t bear to lie.

  He hung up and looked at the bus schedule. He had so much money now, he could go anywhere. Anywhere at all.

  SIXTEEN

  Ann

  “How would Michael even know I’m pregnant?” Ann asked Anthony. “And how would he know it was you? I never told him anything.”

  “You didn’t have to. He said he overheard you when you called me. You should have been more discreet, Ann.”

  “No.” Ann couldn’t think straight anymore. Nobody had been home when she’d spoken to Anthony, right? That was just a few days ago, and she could hardly remember it, couldn’t remember what she’d eaten for breakfast that very morning, what homework she’d turned in and what was late, what her own name was. Her brain was too busy trying to make sense of the messiness of her life. She remembered yelling at Michael and feeling bad about it. She’d been anxious for him to come home after school so she could apologize, tell him she didn’t mean what she’d said, she’d just been so alone, so confused, that she needed to lash out. She was building up the resolve to tell everyone, her parents, Michael, Poppy. Once Michael knew this secret she’d been keeping, he’d understand, right?

  “He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t blackmail you. Not Michael.”

  “Especially Michael,” Anthony said. His voice was so authoritative she felt as if he were in the same room with her. “What do you know about his life before you met him? He was a street kid, Ann. He learned to get what he wanted. Think about it. He lived with your family for what, not even two years? He just turned eighteen, doesn’t want to go to college. He could work at a McDonald’s the rest of his life or he could hit me up for a load of cash, which is just what he did. He called me at work. Last person in the world I expected to hear from at nine o’clock in the morning. I almost spit out my coffee.”

  “He called you? How did he have your number at work?”

  “I gave him my card when he worked for me last summer. Told him to stay in touch if he wanted me to write a letter of recommendation. Thought I was doing the kid a favor and look how he repaid me. He had the whole plan figured out. He said he’d say he’s the father and skip town if I’d give him money.”

  “No.”

  “It’s time for you to open your eyes, Ann. You don’t believe me? He even had a bank account set up. He said he’d keep fifty grand for himself, and then he’d deposit the rest of my money and the bank would automatically send you a check every month. If you don’t believe me I can show you the paperwork he faxed over. Think about it: I can’t set up a bank account for someone else. He needed to do this. It was his plan.”

  Ann stared at the dizzying jelly-roll pattern of the quilt on her bed that her mother had made for her as a present when she turned sixteen. They’d driven all over town looking for fabric. Michael set up an account?

  “He had me in a vise, Ann. Kid like that, he’s seen people in situations like mine. Part of me admires him, actually. But look: it’s just money. I paid him, and I put money in his little account. You’ll get a thousand bucks every month. That ought to help you get by. He’s gone for good, off to who-knows-where. You won’t see him again. Good riddance.”

  It was one thing to imagine never seeing Anthony again, but Michael? He’d been such a constant in her life the past few years. Even though they hadn’t been as close lately, she relied on him, cared for him, loved him in ways she could acknowledge, and ways she had to deny, even to herself. She couldn’t digest what Anthony told her—all she could think about was that Michael was gone, and he’d betrayed her. Anthony kept talking, his words floating like the greasy scum on top of dirty water. Most of what he said was just posturing, but she snapped to attention when he said, “Let’s face it, Ann. This situation is difficult enough. Neither of us want to get dragged into a custody battle.”

  “Custody”: that was a word she hadn’t even thought of yet. It made her stomach turn to think of this baby growing inside of her being ripped away, raised by someone like Anthony. “What did you say?”

  “If the kid is mine, like you say, you bet I want to raise it. That is, if I didn’t have to keep everything a secret. Practically speaking, I do.”

  “All I need to do is take a paternity test.”

  “Right. And you know what’ll happen if I’m really the father? I’ll drag you and your family through the mud, take the kid, do whatever I need to do. Listen good, Ann: if you come after me, if you take that test, I’ll be a permanent part of your life, you can bet on that. There won’t be a day you won’t communicate with me.”

  Ann held the phone so hard she thought it could melt in her hand. She used to think she could handle anything, but this? This was too much.

  “I know what Michael did is hurtful, but you don’t see him clearly. You don’t know the kinds of people I’ve known. He’s had to look out for himself, do whatever it takes to survive. I think he thinks he’s doing you a favor. You’ll keep this a secret.”

  “I don’t believe this.”

  “Here’s what you do. When you tell your parents, you say Michael’s the dad just like he worked out. He gets something in exchange for lying. Fair’s fair I guess, as unpleasant as it is. He has a price, and I paid it. This sucks for me too, you know.”

  “My whole future just blew up. Don’t tell me what sucks for you.”

  “I’m basically giving up any opportunity to get to know my child, and I don’t even have proof that it really is mine. You think that’s easy for me?” His cold voice softened for a moment. “Having a kid is hard, but it’s not the end of the world. My boys, they mean the world to me. You saw that. I’d never go back in time and wish they hadn’t been born. I didn’t believe in God until I looked in their eyes. But look, Michael is long gone, and I can be long gone, too, if that’s what’s best. You just play along. You’re independent, I can see that. That’s why I liked you. You raise the kid the way you want. Your parents will help, you know that. Or you put it up for adoption for some nice family. The money in that account will still be yours, and you’ll get it a month at a time so we don’t raise any eyebrows.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What’s not to know? The way I look at it, and probably the way Michael does, too, is that he’s doing us both a favor.”

  All the rest was a blur. His insistence that this was simple appealed to her, it did. She needed a check to appear every month, just like Anthony had said it would. It sounded like there was so much money that it would never run out.

  Ann still had so many questions about what Michael had done. It didn’t feel right
to her. But she needed a narrative, a story. So, when her father burst into her bedroom demanding to know what Michael had “done” to her, that was the story she told. “Oh, Ann,” he said, racked with disappointment. “How could you let this happen?”

  If he’d responded differently and said something less inadvertently hurtful, she might not have stuck to it with as much tenacity.

  * * *

  WORD SPREAD AROUND SCHOOL like a brush fire. Ann wasn’t the first kid at Riverside to get pregnant, that was for sure, but she was Ed Gordon’s kid, a straight-A student, the kind of girl who, a year ago, might have been the one to spread rumors about other teen pregnancies. The worst part was seeing that look on her teachers’ faces, many of whom were her dad’s friends. They’d been to the house for potlucks and barbecues, knew her mom, had watched Ann grow up. Such a shame, they seemed to say every time they saw her walk into the classroom, their eyes on her stomach. Even her mom’s friend Dawn, who was like an aunt to her, seemed to disapprove.

  Her pregnancy became public as her college acceptance letters arrived. She was waitlisted at Harvard, which, under normal circumstances, would have been a big deal—maybe it would mean heartbreak, maybe it would change her life forever. Now it was just a stone dropping through water. Only Amherst sent a rejection. She could have gone to college out East after all: Boston College wanted her. So did Northeastern and Vassar. Vassar even offered her a scholarship. Ann insisted she could still go. “How?” her mother asked. “Honey, a baby is a lot of work. You have no idea.”

  Poppy rallied to Ann’s side. She called the admissions offices, pretending she was Ann. Sorry, she said, while tears streamed down Ann’s face, I’m taking advantage of other offers. Ann grudgingly enrolled at the achingly familiar University of Wisconsin–Milwaukee. She had practically lived on campus her entire life. She’d even attended the day care there; now, in addition to her application, she was filling out forms for her own child to be taken care of while she attended classes.