by Iris Parker
"I'm not going to buy you any cookies or cakes there, if that's what you're after," Helena said. "You misbehaved very badly today and the last thing I want to do is reward that behavior."
"I don't think that she wants cookies," I said quietly, giving Helena an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I didn't mean to imply that…uh. Look, I just want to talk about what happened. With both of you."
Helena stared at me for a moment, her expression softening.
"This is important, mom," Ali said.
Helena broke eye contact with me to look back down at her daughter.
And then back up to me.
And then back down to Ali.
Helena's own face was getting progressively more pale with each passing second.
"What could possibly be important about coffee with a stranger?" she asked, her voice monotone and quiet.
This must be how I looked earlier today, I realized. Helena had finally noticed my eyes and the unique heterochromia that I shared with her daughter. It seemed some part of her immediately realized the implication, but she hadn't yet been able to admit it to herself. Not consciously, anyway.
Just like me.
"That's part of what I want to address," I said softly. "It's kind of a long story, and it's best if…" I began, stalling out mid-sentence to stop myself from the dreaded words just in the nick of time. With the possible exception of we need to talk, there was no phrase with more sinister implications than you should be sitting down for this.
"If we're somewhere comfortable," Ali finished for me. I looked down at her, frankly impressed by her quick thinking.
"Okay, fine," Helena said finally. "But it can't be too long. I have a lot of work to catch up on."
"No you don't," Ali interjected. "You're a teacher and summer vacation just started."
"What has gotten into you, young lady?" Helena asked.
Ali blushed again, lowering her gaze down to the floor as the three of us walked down the hall. She didn't say anything, but she didn't have to.
One way or another, Helena was about to find out.
Dominick
I hurried back from the locker room after changing into normal clothes, and was relieved to find that Helena and Ali were waiting in the parking lot like we'd planned. With a nod, the three of us made it across the street. The diner was not especially busy, and we found ourselves a quiet corner booth.
I had no idea how Helena was going to react to the news, and I was starting to second-guess my idea of telling her in public. If she freaked out or made a scene, someone could overhear and the tabloids would be running the story before you could say baby mama drama.
It was a risk I was going to have to take. It had been difficult enough to convince Helena to come here, and I wasn't about to suggest going somewhere else—let alone somewhere private. When the waitress arrived, I ordered us a couple of coffees while Ali subtly put in a request for a donut and some milk.
Sneaky, sneaky kid, I thought, just barely containing my urge to laugh. After all, I didn't want to call attention to it and risk getting her into even more trouble than she was currently in.
"So you're probably wondering what all this is about," I said to Helena after the waitress finally left. "There's no easy way to say this, and you probably wouldn't believe me if I tried. I think Ali had the right idea, so I'm going to take a page from her book."
Or her folder, anyway, I thought, turning to Ali. "Could you show your mother the papers that you showed me in the rink?"
Ali pulled the documents out of her backpack and handed them to Helena. I anxiously watched her reaction as she read, relieved that she wasn't already yelling or otherwise making a scene.
She probably would've spit her coffee out if it had already arrived, though, judging by the look on her face.
Again, I didn't blame her.
She pored over the papers for a long time, long enough for the waitress to come back with our order and then leave again. Helena's face turned progressively redder as her eyes flitted across the paperwork again and again, but she never yelled.
That was a relief.
After a few tense minutes, Helena carefully placed the papers down on the table and turned to her daughter. "Alicia Charlotte Bramford," she said slowly, taking time to clearly enunciate each syllable of Ali's full name. "Just what is going on here?"
Before Ali had a chance to respond, Helena ran her hands over her forehead and kept going. "They say that it's always the quiet ones, but I never expected this kind of behavior from you. Breaking into that sports complex was one thing, but this? I don't even want to know how you got this. Or how many laws you had to break doing it."
"Three, I think. But they won't try me as an adult. I ran the numbers," Ali said, her subtle joke only detectable from the faintest curl of her lip. I chuckled softly, recognizing the same kind of gallows humor I had in my own youth.
"And you!" Helena said with growing agitation as she turned to me. She paused, her expression changing from annoyance to embarrassment. Her voice took on a softer tone. "You're the victim of all this. Jesus, I'm so sorry. She had no right to invade your privacy like this, to force herself into your life the way she did. I'm going to have a very long talk with her tonight about why this was so inappropriate."
Helena's voice was growing less steady as she continued to speak, and I noticed her hands were trembling. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she rubbed her eyes and continued. "A long talk. About bioethics. With my eleven year old," she said, unable to suppress a groan. "And I thought this summer was going to be a chance to unwind…."
"Sounds like you could use some help," I suggested quietly, surprising myself.
"My father helps out a lot, but he's out of town this week. Besides, I think this kind of thing might be a bit beyond his expertise," Helena answered with a shrug. Clearly, my offer of help was either too subtle or she had no interest in accepting it.
That was the problem with subtlety. If it doesn't work the first time, your only options are either to embarrass yourself by explaining or embarrass the other person by explaining.
I looked back at Ali, who was still working on her donut, and gave her a little smile. It was true that her behavior was far from ethical, but I couldn't be mad at her on a personal level. When I put myself in her shoes, it seemed clear that she had just wanted to find out more about her father.
I wasn't going to hold that against her. And I hoped that no one would.
Besides, even if I had been upset, I would've been too impressed for it to matter. Even with the help of an investigator, tracking me down had to be a major accomplishment for a kid. Hell, it would've been a major accomplishment for an adult.
The table returned to silence as Helena took a sip of coffee with unsteady hands, and I took a similarly awkward drink. Clearly, both of us needed time to digest this news.
"Well, what's done is done," I said finally. "And there's no taking this back now. I'll give you guys my number, and you can call once you've had more time to sort this out. Sound good?"
Ali grinned from ear to ear, looking more excited than if she'd just won a lifetime of free unicorn rides. For her part, Helena gave a thin and completely ambiguous smile. We exchanged contact information, and with that, I got up to leave.
"Take care of yourself. Okay, Alicia?" I said. She looked up at me with the two mismatched eyes I seemed to know so well, and nodded.
"I will," she said solemnly.
"And try not to give your mother any more heart attacks, okay?" I teased. "I think two is enough for one day."
Ali nodded, and I started to leave. Before walking away though, I turned back and looked at my daughter. It didn't seem right to just walk away, but I didn't quite know how to leave. She was still a stranger, so either a hug or kiss felt pushy and intrusive. I was still her father, however, and so a handshake or a wave felt downright insulting.
While I was debating, Ali scrambled up onto her seat. Planting a quick peck on my cheek, she solved the prob
lem for me—and melted my heart in the process.
Helena
I kissed Ali good night, pulling the blanket right up to the bottom of her nose. It was the way she'd liked it since she was a baby—one of our little rituals, the small things that made life so idyllic between us at home.
Or so I'd thought, before today. Now, I didn't know what to believe. Running away today hadn't just been some random whim; it was something she'd been planning for quite a while now. If she could keep something like that from me, what else was she hiding? And if she wanted to meet her biological father so badly, did that mean I was doing a bad job? Leaving her somehow unsatisfied?
It had only been the two of us from the very beginning, and I'd always believed that was enough. I had always endeavored to make Ali's life as rich and fulfilled as possible, giving her more positive attention, structure, and support than many kids got from two parents.
I'd thought I was succeeding, but that was before today happened.
With a quiet sigh, I switched off the light and gently closed the door to Ali's room. She was already fast asleep, a nice change from usual. Clearly the events of the day had tired her out almost as much as they had me.
I walked back to my bedroom, still feeling the oppressive weight that had settled on my shoulders the moment I'd realized Ali had gone missing this afternoon. I took a deep breath and grabbed my nightgown, hoping that changing into my night clothes would help put the day behind me. But even as the silky garment slid down my body, I knew that it was going to take a lot more than that to release the tension that had gripped my soul.
Even the wonderful news that Ali was safe hadn't fully gotten rid of it, and everything that came afterwards had only brought the uneasy feeling back at full strength. Ali had conjured a biological father out of the blue, a wild and uncontrolled variable in her life that I could never have planned for.
Dominick Henderson was chaos on a stick.
Specifically a hockey stick.
Fit and muscular, the professional athlete was incredibly attractive and he knew it. I might not have attended traditional school very long, but I was there enough to recognize trouble when I saw it. Jock-types were always so full of themselves, and Dominick seemed to be no exception.
He'd actually ordered coffee for me at the diner! Who even does that anymore? Worse, he'd done it so smoothly that I hadn't even noticed until after he had left. My judgment was clouded around him, and for more than one reason.
That body….
I groaned, reminding myself not to allow simple biological urges to get in the way of the truth. Just like every other guy, Dominick would only get me into trouble if I gave him half a chance. The idea of allowing him into our lives, in any capacity, seemed insane.
Of course, I also had no right to keep Ali from her father. Particularly not after they'd met each other and he seemed willing to stay in touch. And could I even keep them apart if I tried? This afternoon's shenanigans had shown me Ali was willing to defy me in order to meet him.
Clearly Dominick was already a bad influence on my daughter.
Could I walk this tightrope? My daughter on one side of the crevasse, and her biological father on the other. As dearly as I wished I could forbid her from seeing him, I knew that was a losing proposition. She'd be a teenager soon, and one thing teenagers aren't known for is obedience.
And guys were always more trouble than they were worth. I'd known that for most of my life, and I couldn't let today change things. Sooner or later, I knew, Dominick was going to cause problems.
For me.
For Ali.
And for the baby, I thought, running my hand along my still-smooth stomach as I shivered with dread.
Chapter Two
Dominick
The low murmur of the bar on a Tuesday night droned on relentlessly. The sound blurred and blended in with all the other noise in my head, further isolating me from my surroundings. All around me people were talking, but I could no more listen to them than I could focus on the pool table in front of me. I closed my eyes and propped my forehead on my cue, trying my best to think straight. I felt cut off from everything around me, my eyes refusing to focus on anything for more than a fraction of a second.
Distraction.
It had been plaguing me all evening, the very reason I'd gone to the bar in the first place. It started as a feeling of listlessness, a need to occupy myself that persisted no matter how occupied I was. From watching a movie to reorganizing my sock drawer, I had been left with a vague feeling that I needed to be somewhere else. Eventually, it had gotten to a point where I was unable to do anything at all.
When the phone finally rang, it had taken me only a fraction of a second to answer. Alton's familiar voice, normally a welcome one, had been a disappointment. Still, his suggestion to hit the bars had seemed like my best bet for getting rid of this damn feeling of unease, and I'd readily agreed.
Good, old-fashioned fun. That's what this trip should've been, but I'd quickly discovered that there was no fun to be had here—at least by me. Everyone else seemed content with the noise and the heat, the cacophony of prerecorded industrial music that was playing in lieu of the classic rock 'n' roll band that performed on weekends.
"Come on, you gonna shoot or what?" Alton's voice called, jolting me out of my reverie. I shook my head briskly and looked down at the pool table again as if seeing it for the first time. I was losing, badly. Studying the balls, I circled around to line up my next shot—two and six combo, corner pocket.
I was halfway through making my shot before I saw the similarity, making me choke and miss completely. Swearing like a sailor, I threw the cue down in frustration. I shook my head and forced myself to stare at table until finally the two balls, one green and one blue, stopped looking like my daughter's eyes staring up at me.
Alton gave me a confused look, but didn't ask what was going on. I was grateful for that, because there was no way I could've explained it without sounding like I'd gone crazy.
I wasn't even completely sure that I wasn't crazy. They were just two colored balls of heavy plastic, after all. Aside from the color, they looked nothing like her eyes.
Alton's lead on me increased to the point where there was no way I could win anymore, and mercifully he suggested we stop playing early. With a nod from me, Alton grabbed both our beers and carried them to a nearby table.
He'd picked a spot with a clear view of the two attractive students that had been waiting for the table behind us. As one of the young women bent over to reset the game, the other shamelessly locked eyes with us and Alton smiled hungrily.
"She's not wasting any time, is she," Alton said quietly, not breaking his eye contact with the woman. "Dibs on that one. Unless you think she would help cheer you up, of course."
I chuckled, taking a sip of my beer. The crass question had been Alton's ever-so-subtle way of asking me what was wrong, of course. It wasn't very manly to ask your friend about his feelings, and we'd both learned long ago how important it was to seem tough. You needed to, growing up a place like Roxbury. We'd survived it together, and we'd always shared everything we had. Food, fights, women, it didn't matter.
But I wouldn't to be sharing this with him. Not yet, anyway. It was still too early—way too early—and I hadn't come to terms with the news yet myself. Dragging someone else into the situation would only confuse things further, which was the last thing I wanted.
It was too complicated.
And too precious.
Telling my lawyer had been difficult enough, reducing the whole host of conflicting emotions into two simple options. I could either ignore the two women who'd barged into my life today, or embrace the new relationship with them.
Or rather, the relationship with Ali, I corrected myself. I didn't want to think about Helena any more than I absolutely had to—there was too much temptation there, too much risk. The sexy, petite woman had already played far too large a role in my thoughts all day today. There was an intense
allure about her, one that I needed to resist.
I'd heard of men becoming more attracted to their wives after they got pregnant, but this was just ridiculous. She was a stranger, and the pregnancy was long over. Something about her just seemed unnaturally appealing, though. She had a grace that transformed her from pretty to one of the most beautiful women I'd ever laid eyes on.
One of? I asked myself.
"Hellooooo?" Alton asked, his hand waving around inches in front of my face.
"Sorry. I'm a bit distracted tonight," I explained.
"You don't say," Alton said sarcastically. "You've hardly even touched your beer."
"Just not in the mood, I guess. Actually, I should probably head back home," I said, shrugging my shoulders apologetically before standing up.
Alton's expression made it clear that he was worried about me, but I knew that he wouldn't ask directly. That was for the best anyway—how could I explain that I'd suddenly inherited a family? He'd probably worry that it was all some elaborate scam for child support, but I knew that wasn't the case.
Even if the lawyer hadn't made it clear that I had nothing to worry about, I was convinced of Helena's sincerity. Nobody could've faked the relief she'd clearly felt when she caught up to Ali, or the shock on her face when she heard the news.
"I'm fine," I reassured my friend. "Just fighting off a headache, and some stuff on my mind."
Stuff. I almost laughed. That was certainly one way to say life altering news.
"Nothing major, I hope?" Alton asked.
"Nothing my lawyer can't handle," I said, hoping he didn't push any further. I didn't want to lie to my best friend, after all. Instead I changed the subject, nodding my head over towards the pool table. The two attractive women were still there, and the way they kept looking at us made it clear they had zero interest in their actual game.
"Oh yeah," Alton said with a renewed smile. "Now we're talking. So which do you want? The blonde or the redhead?"