by Elle Casey
“Hi,” she says, sounding breathless. “Are you ready? Are you sure you want to go? I’m not sure if I want to go, so I wondered if you were sure if you wanted to go. You can say no if you want. Or say yes. Or we could reschedule.” She grins and then frowns and then tries to smile again.
“Hi, Charity.” I settle into my seat and bring the safety belt up and around my belly to connect it. “Yes, I’m sure I want to go.” I click the belt in place and put my hand on her arm. “Do me a favor and take a breath so you don’t explode your guts all over me.”
A big huff of air whooshes out of her lungs. “Yeah. Okay. Breathe.” She nods a bunch of times, reminding me of a bobble head.
I jiggle her a little before dropping my hand to the seat. “You already met Barbara. Why are you so nervous?”
Charity shifts the car into drive and pulls away from the curb as she shakes her head. “I have no idea. Maybe because her husband could pull the plug on the whole thing. And the more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea of her being the mom. She’s really nice and very organized. She even has matching pillows on the couch.”
I stare out the front window, wondering if her attachment to Barbara this quick is a good idea.
“What?” she asks, her tone worried. “I can tell you want to say something.”
“No, I was just thinking…” I shake my head and stare out the window. I do not want to be the voice of reason right now. I want Charity to be happy and excited.
“About…?”
What would a good friend do? Lie? Just let a girl go into an important relationship like this without doing the bare minimum? No. Probably not. “Well, maybe before you commit to anything, you should get a background check on both of them.” I look over to see her reaction.
She blinks a few times. “Oh. I guess I never thought about that. I mean … their house is nice.” She grimaces and glances over at me. “That’s probably not a good measuring stick, is it?”
“Well, it’s important, sure. But you know, just to be positive, maybe we could have the police look to see if they have records.”
“Will it cost money? Because I don’t have any. I can barely pay for gas.”
I shrug. “Probably will, but they should pay for it, not you.”
Charity nods. “I knew there was a reason you and I met.” She looks over for a moment and smiles big. “First you find parents for my baby and then you make sure they’re good ones.”
My heart squeezes in my chest. “Don’t give me any credit for anything. If things don’t go well, I don’t want to be blamed.”
“Well, that wasn’t very positive,” Charity says, going from happy to sad in an instant.
“I’m sorry. I take it back. I’m being a jerk right now.”
Charity waves her hand in the air, as if to brush away the bad vibes that are floating between us. “No, Alissa, I’m sorry. I’ve been going on and on about myself and have completely ignored your life. What’s going on? Are you okay?”
I sigh heavily. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Is that the truuuuth?”
I chew my lip, wondering if I should say anything. I should probably just let her live in her cloud without messing it all up with my negativity. “Yes.”
“Liar!” She slaps my leg gently. “Tell me the truth.”
My smile refuses to stay away. “Truth is, life is very complicated right now. Too complicated.”
“I hear ya. What’s so complicated about your life, though? I want to know. I really do.”
A sigh precedes my confession. “Well, I’m just weeks away from giving birth and I don’t have any idea what I’m going to do after. I suppose I can get food stamps so she won’t starve, but I need to find a job.”
“Didn’t you mention having a job already?”
“Yes, but it’s working for Colin.”
“Oooo, Colin. Lucky girl. Aaaand why exactly is that a problem?”
“Don’t laugh.”
“I’m not.” She giggles. “Just tell me.”
“You know what the problem is! He’s too cute!” I can’t look at her.
She laughs more. “Damn straight he’s cute. He’s actually full outta cute and into hot if you ask me. You should go for that shi… stuff.”
I snort. “Yeah, right. I’m an elephant with cankles and completely limp hair. A penguin with an actual beak. I couldn’t possibly be less attractive than I am right now.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised,” she says, her tone hinting at more.
“About what?”
“About how sexy some guys think pregnant girls are."
“Not Colin.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, first of all, he only dates models. And second, he says I walk like a penguin.”
“He said that?”
“Yes. Twice.”
“Okay, that’s not good. But that don’t mean he isn’t likin’ the curves. That’s all I’m saying.” She lowers her voice. “And I heard that orgasms while you’re pregnant are better than regular ones.”
I laugh, but don’t respond. Instead, I think about her curves comment for a few minutes. Houses whiz by my window as I consider whether he might be asking for a kiss because he does like curves. Does that make him a prince among men or a pervert?
“What?” she asks. “What are you thinking over there?”
“Nothing. Just … nothing.”
“Are you sure there’s nothing else bothering you?” she asks, slowing down in front of a nice, two-storey house.
“Yep.” I put on a cheery smile so we can focus on her life instead of mine. “That’s it. And I’ll figure it out, don’t worry.” I unbuckle my seatbelt. “Come on. Let’s go meet the parents.”
“Ha, ha. Meet the parents. Good one.” Charity tries to laugh but it comes out sounding a little like a hyena. “Oh, boy. That’s not good,” she whispers.
I laugh. “Don’t worry about it. They’re not going to stop wanting your baby because you laugh like a … silly person.”
She frowns at me good naturedly. “Silly person? You were going to say something else, like monkey or something.”
“Who me? No way.” I’m still grinning when the door opens and a teary-eyed Barbara is standing in the entrance.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
“WHAT’S WRONG?” CHARITY ASKS QUIETLY.
“Nothing, sweetie. Come in, come in.” She holds her hand out towards the foyer and we both step inside. “You brought your friend. Alissa, right?”
“Yes. Is that a problem? I can leave.” I point to the car that’s disappearing from view as Barbara shuts the door.
“No, no, don’t be silly. Come in.” She wipes at her eyes with a tissue.
Charity puts her hand on Barbara’s arm. “Tell me what’s going on. I don’t want to be blindsided.”
Barbara stops and faces us. “My husband is just concerned about … the whole process.”
“That’s understandable.” I’m afraid there’s more to her statement than she’s letting on, and I just pray it has nothing to do with the color of Charity’s skin. Because people who have issues like that don’t deserve to have her baby in my opinion.
Charity takes my hand and I squeeze her fingers a couple times. “Come on,” I say. “Let’s go have dinner.” I smile as brightly as I know how and lead the way into the living room.
There’s a man standing next to the fireplace. I don’t know what I expected, but this isn’t it. He’s huge. He’s the size of two men. And his skin is about two shades darker than Charity’s.
All the breath whooshes out of me in one big gust. That’s one worry out of the way, at least.
I can feel Charity relaxing through her hand just before it slides out of mine.
“Charity,” Barbara gestures towards my friend, “I’d like you to meet my husband, Michael. Michael, this is Charity, the young lady I told you about.”
He walks over and shakes her hand. His fingers could probably go around it
twice they’re so long. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too,” Charity says. She has to tilt her head up to meet his eyes.
“And this is …?” he asks, turning towards me.
“I’m Alissa. Hi.” I hold out my hand and give him the firmest handshake I can, considering it’s like holding a baseball glove and not a person’s actual hand. “I’m Charity’s friend. Just here for moral support.” I try to smile past my awkwardness.
“That’s a good friend,” he says, his low voice a rumble in the room.
“Would you like to have a seat?” Barbara asks, pointing to a small couch.
Charity and I sit down next to each other as Barbara takes an armchair across from us. Michael stands at the fireplace again, a small tumbler of an amber liquid in his hand. Ice tinkles gently inside as his hand moves.
A clock ticks loudly somewhere. Charity and I both jump when a loud cuckoo bird starts squawking.
“Holy … moley,” she half-whispers.
I don’t say out loud what I’m thinking, that the dang thing almost made me pee.
“So, you are interested … in putting your child … up for adoption,” Michael says. He reminds me of an actor making a very important speech in a movie.
“Yes, sir, I am.” Charity bobble-head nods for a full fifteen seconds. I know why she’s doing it, too. I can’t help but nod right along with her. Michael is like Darth Vader or something. I swear he’s reading our minds right now. No wonder Barbara was crying. I’d probably cry every day if I lived in this house.
“And can you tell me why you’ve made this very important decision? What has motivated you to choose this option and not the others?”
“Others?” Charity squeaks. She recovers before he has time to answer. “Um … yes, I can tell you.” She sits up straighter. “But before I do, let’s get one thing straight, okay?”
He lifts an eyebrow in response.
“I’m not here to be judged by you, okay? I’m the one doing the judging. I’m not going to give my baby up to just anyone. So if you don’t want to be a father, you can just save us all the trouble right now and say so and I’ll be on my way. With my friend.” Charity reaches out blindly, and I take her hand, holding it tight against my leg.
I am so proud of her I could do a cheer. Instead, I just stare at the emotions moving across Michael’s face. I see surprise, resistance, and then a cool grace. Man, he’s good.
He nods and closes his eyes for a split second before going back to staring. “Fair enough. Although I think it would be unrealistic to assume we are not also making assessments of our own. Adopting a child is a very important decision. Raising a child even more so. It requires careful consideration by all parties concerned.”
“Agreed,” Charity says. “I totally think we’re on the same page there.”
“Good.” He steps around the chair next to Barbara and sits down. “Charity, tell us your story.”
Charity sits up straighter and lifts her chin. “Well, I’m sixteen, a junior in high school. I skipped kindergarten, so I’m ahead a year. I take all honors courses and I have a three point five GPA. I think my DNA is pretty good. I don’t drink, I don’t smoke, and I definitely don’t do drugs. I did one time have unprotected sex, though, and believe me, I’ve learned that lesson.”
A ghost of a smile appears on his face and then disappears just as quickly. “Do you have family?”
“I live with my grandpa. Both of my parents were in the military and lost their lives in the Middle East.”
My mouth drops open and I gasp a little. I had no idea, and it’s clear neither did Barbara. I choke on a bit of drool that gets sucked into my windpipe.
Charity pats me on the back as she continues. “I don’t tell a lot of people my business, so if you could keep that to yourselves, that would be great.”
“Everything we discuss will be kept in confidence,” says Michael. “Our condolences to you and your grandfather.”
“Yes,” agrees Barbara. “Our sympathies. My goodness. Did this happen a long time ago?”
“A few years ago, yeah. But I’m okay. Thanks.”
“And the father of your child …” Michael asks, “… is he in the picture?”
Charity snorts. “No. He knows about the baby but he’s not interested in raising it.”
“So you’ve discussed adoption with him?” Michael asks.
“Actually, I tried to discuss it with him but he won’t talk to me. He wants to pretend I don’t exist and that this never happened.” She points to her belly.
Michael looks over at Barbara. She looks down into her lap for a moment and then looks up. “Obviously there are some details we need to verify before we can be absolutely assured that it will be legally valid.”
“That’s normal, right?” I ask. “There’s always a mother and father and both have to give up the baby, so no big deal. Just get him to sign a paper.”
Michael puts his drink down on the table in front of him and stays there with his arms resting on his thighs. “Charity, this is the stumbling block that I see in this process. You want to give your baby to a loving family for adoption. Barbara and I have been searching for a child for going on five years now. In fact, I gave up about six months ago, but Barbara kept pressing forward.” He reaches out to her and she takes his hand. He turns back to us. “We have had our hopes up and then dashed too many times to count. We’ve had money stolen from us. We’ve had people try to blackmail us and bribe us and … well, I don’t want to dwell on the unfortunate things we’ve dealt with. You get the idea.”
“That sounds terrible,” Charity says.
“Who would do that with a baby involved?” I ask, horrified at the very idea.
“You have no idea,” Michael says, sitting back again and letting his wife’s hand go. “As you can imagine, we … or I … have gotten to the point that I just don’t think it can happen. That God has determined for whatever reason that we are just not meant to be parents.”
“I don’t believe that,” says Barbara.
“Neither do I,” says Charity. “I don’t know you that well, but my gut tells me that you’re good people and that you’d make great parents for my baby.”
Michael puts his elbows on the chair arms and steeples his fingers together. “So what are your terms? What are you looking for in this arrangement?”
“Do you have to sound so cold, honey?” Barbara asks. She looks embarrassed.
He glances at her and drops his hands. “Forgive me, but we can’t just dance around the details. It’s better to know up front if we can do what you want us to do.”
“That makes sense,” I say, trying to smooth over the awkward moment.
Charity shrugs. “I just want my baby to be happy and healthy. So that means … I want to know you aren’t criminals and you don’t hurt kids or other people.” She grimaces and her shoulders go up around her ears as she sinks down into her seat. “Like with a police background check?”
“Done.” Michael nods. “What else?”
Charity sits up straighter. “Well, I don’t need to be involved if you don’t want me to be, but maybe if you could agree to tell him when he’s eighteen, if he wants to know, who I am? That might be nice.”
Barbara sits forward. “We’ve talked about this a lot. And actually…” She looks to her husband who nods her on. “…We’d like you to visit when you want. I mean, not every day probably, but maybe we can get together once a month or something kind of regular. You can be like … an aunt or a godmother or something. And when the baby is older and can understand, we’ll tell him. We’ll tell him the truth. All of it.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. These people are really nice. It’s almost too good to be true. Words come flying out of my mouth before I can stop them. “What’s the catch?”
Everyone looks at me. Charity seems surprised. Michael, angry. Barbara, confused.
“Sorry, that came out wrong. I’m just wondering … it’s not usually this ea
sy.” I look at the wall behind Michael, unable to face their judgment.
“You aren’t wrong to say that, don’t feel bad,” Michael says, not sounding angry like I expected him to. “There will be legal fees, which we will pay. Court fees as well. The background check is a good idea. That, again, will be our expense. After we have the baby in our custody and he’s legally ours, we will pay for his medical costs and so on. But all of this hinges on the baby’s father. If he won’t surrender his rights without requiring payment, it cannot go forward. We want a child more than anything in the world, but we will not pay for one. That’s illegal and we don’t believe it’s the right way to start a life together.”
We all look to Charity.
“I guess I have my work cut out for me.” She looks down at her phone. “I’m going to call him right now.” She gets up and walks out of the room before we can stop her. I can hear her in the foyer talking in a low voice just a few seconds later.
“So, how did you and Charity become friends?” Michael asks.
I give up on trying to listen in on her conversation and answer his question. “We met at a fast food place.”
“Do you work there?”
“No. I was drinking a glass of water and she was having lunch. I guess we bonded over swollen ankles.”
Michael smiles for the first time and it makes me feel a little faint. He’s really handsome when he’s happy. He reminds me of …
I point at him. “Did you ever play sports … somewhere?”
“UCLA. Running back. It’s been a while.” He smiles again. So does Barbara.
“That’s where we met,” she says. “I was a statistician for the team.”
My mouth drops open. “I knew it! I’ve seen pictures of you on campus!”
“Those days are far behind me. I’m in real estate now.”
I look around the room. “This place is nice.”
“Thank you. But Barbara deserves all the credit. She has an eye for details.”
She looks over at him and smiles. “This place has good bones. You can do anything when you have the right foundation.”