by Debbie Burns
She’d answered that they were good names and suggested Ollie try them out a few days to make sure they fit. Even though she didn’t say it aloud, somehow she knew right away the names were going to stick, and Sadie and Sam would become a part of this strangely fated journey of theirs. And all morning, the names had fallen easily off Mia and Ollie’s tongues.
After working her way through the crowd filling the small but unique gift shop in one corner of the shelter’s front room and refilling the picked-over mug table, Mia glanced at the clock. It had been twenty minutes since she’d last checked on Ollie. He was back in the kennels reading his favorite holiday stories to the dogs. Due to the popularity of this afternoon’s adoption event, the Ugly Sweater/Cute Mutt contest, two volunteers were stationed in the kennels, answering questions and taking dogs out to the play yards in the back lot upon request. One of the volunteers, Sarah, had promised to keep an eye on Ollie.
And while Mia trusted Ollie not to open any kennel doors or go anywhere else in the building without asking her first, she still checked in frequently. After working her way back through the holiday shoppers, Mia found her son on a short stool in front of Tiny, the gangly-legged Great Dane. Tiny was as calm and laid-back as dogs came, so the commotion and people and holiday music filling the shelter this afternoon weren’t fazing him.
Most of this afternoon’s shoppers were clad in gaudy sweaters, taking advantage of the sale. Despite the event’s name, anyone who came in wearing a holiday-themed sweater—whether it was tacky, humorous, or just plain festive—received twenty percent off adoption fees, training classes, and gift-shop purchases. There were also prizes awarded every hour for funniest, most original, and tackiest sweaters.
Mia had made her ferociously itchy sweater in anticipation of this event one quiet night in early November. And even though it was the itchiest thing she’d worn in…well, ever, she was glad to be wearing it. And even gladder Ollie was seeing her in it. Whether they were swimming against it or paddling along with it, the current of life flowed on. She and Ollie needed some fun too.
She squatted beside him, balancing on the balls of her feet and smiling over the two-sizes-too-big pug-in-a-Santa-hat sweater he was wearing that had been handed down from one of the volunteers’ kids. He was reading Snowmen at Night, oblivious to the craziness around him and heedless of the fact that Tiny was sprawled across his kennel, dozing with one eye partially open.
Ollie also wasn’t technically reading. He was looking at the pictures and making up his own fantastical version of the story. In this one, it seemed that the hot chocolate the snowmen were drinking was from a magical cave in Cairo—how he’d thought of Cairo, Mia couldn’t guess—and would enable them to survive the heat and rain that melted other snowmen into puddles.
“How you doing, kiddo?”
“Can I have another cookie? I’m hungry.”
Mia clicked her tongue. The home-baked cookies on the adoption counter varied in size, but she was pretty sure the one Ollie had picked the first time had been big enough to count as two.
“If you’re hungry, how about you eat half the banana I brought, then you can have one more cookie. I’m picking this one out though.”
After puckering his lips in indecision, Ollie shrugged, then went back to his book. “Okay.”
“I’ll be back.” Mia squeezed his shoulder as she stood.
She exited the kennels and reentered the front room, her attention momentarily caught by a baby in a young woman’s arms. Too young to walk, the little guy was wildly pumping his fists, thrusting forward, and grunting like a gorilla at the young, playful cats dashing up and down the ramps in the Cat-a-Climb as if he could will his way in there with them.
The little guy’s excitement made Mia chuckle. Ollie had been much more subdued as a baby. He would’ve pointed and watched the cats in wonder, but he’d been more like her, a test-the-water-first kind of kid. Mia had a feeling this little guy was a dive-in-and-learn-how-to-swim-later kid.
“Cute baby,” she said to the young couple as she passed by.
She didn’t give any thought to the fact that they didn’t respond until after she’d made it through the crowd to the drawer behind the gift store check-out counter, grabbed the banana from her purse, and was headed over to the adoption counter where the cookies and cocoa were being served. That’s when she noticed the group of three was headed her way.
The baby was dressed in a blue polar-bear onesie, and the tall, thin-as-a-rail girl holding him, who Mia wouldn’t guess was a day over twenty, was wearing a snug-fitting reindeer-face sweater with glittery 3-D poms as ornaments hanging from the antlers. Two of the poms were strategically placed over the girl’s boobs, drawing Mia’s attention to the fact that the sweater was as tight as it was short. An inch or two of bare skin showed between it and her jeans. The guy, dressed emo in all black, was a foot shorter and had a sallow, withdrawn look about him.
The baby was craning his head behind them at the cats as he grunted.
Since it was clear they were beelining Mia’s way, she swiped one of the smaller cookies from the counter and turned to face them. “Can I help you with anything?”
The girl stopped a few feet from her and gnawed her lip for a solid second. “He’s not much for sitting still.”
At first, Mia was confused, but then it hit her that the girl seemed to be answering her “Cute baby” comment.
Mia was about to answer when the little guy stopped craning his head back at the cats and turned to look straight at her. He had big, round cheeks and brilliant-blue eyes and silky, sparse strands of golden-blond hair. In a clear attempt at communication, he opened his mouth and let out a long, plaintive “Ooooh!”
And even though she’d always been more dog crazy than baby crazy, Mia wanted to sweep him into her arms.
“He’s trying to crawl but hasn’t figured it out yet,” the girl added.
“Once they do, they never want to sit still,” Mia replied. Something was off. She tried to place it and pay attention at the same time. “Were you, um, wanting to look at a cat? Since it’s so busy right now, the more timid ones aren’t being taken out of their kennels. But the younger and more playful ones are fine.”
The girl shook her head, sending her long hair careening over her shoulders. “I can’t have a cat. My landlord doesn’t allow pets. She’s not crazy about babies either, but we already had a signed lease when Brody was born.”
“Oh.” Mia couldn’t think of any other way to reply; that was entirely too much information. The emo guy had pulled out a phone in what Mia was pretty sure was an attempt at avoidance.
“I wanted to give you something,” the girl said, color rapidly darkening her cheeks. “To read. Later.”
The girl practically dropped the baby into the guy’s arms and shuffled through an oversize bag slung over her shoulder. After a bit of searching, she pulled out a wrinkled envelope.
“Me?” The single-word attempt had been to clarify whether the envelope was something for the shelter or for her personally, but nothing else came out. Adrenaline was dumping into her system. Something was off. Really off.
When the girl didn’t reply, Mia switched the cookie and banana to one hand and accepted the tattered envelope with her other.
“Thanks,” the girl said as soon as the envelope exchanged hands. “We have to go. But good luck with your sale.”
Mia wanted to stop the girl from rushing toward the door but couldn’t find her voice. For a second or two, the baby’s gaze stayed locked on her before his attention was caught by the jangling bells on the door. Mia wanted time to stand still so she could think. Something was so off. Her ears were buzzing.
Somehow, she made it into the kennels and gave Ollie the banana and cookie and a kiss, then forced her legs to carry her to the storage closet. She flipped on the light, stepped inside, and shut the door behind her.
&n
bsp; The envelope was a generic return-bill envelope; she could see rounded-letter, girlish print on college-ruled paper through the clear address window. With shaky hands, she pulled out the letter and read:
Mia,
So I guess there’s no good way to say this. If there was, I’d have thought of it by now. I wanted to tell you months ago, but it wasn’t mine to say.
So I’m telling you even though I know he’ll cut me off. But whatever. I’m sorry. That’s the first thing. I didn’t know you. Marriage bonds—someone else’s—don’t seem to matter at night in a bar when you’ve been drinking. At least they didn’t back then. I get it now.
Brad was going to tell you, at least that’s what he promised. But then you left, and the only thing he wanted was to get you back.
Funny, but now that it’s on me, I see how hard it is. So, I guess I’ll just say it. We had a baby. Not on purpose. I hadn’t had a period in a year. I guess you don’t need the details.
But Brad had another child, and it seems to me you need to know about it.
His name is William, but I call him Brody. He’s hard to take care of. I feel like I’m sinking sometimes. Was it like that for you? I wasn’t planning on having kids. Maybe ever. But I love him. More than I’d ever love a guy. He’s just intense. I don’t trust many people with him, and my mom’s a pothead.
I know it’s a long shot, but I could use someone in his life who I could trust. Once you think it over, maybe we can talk.
Sorry again.
Stacey
314-555-0165
Her knees had given out halfway through, and Mia had collapsed onto a box of overstock clothing that was beginning to crumple under her weight. When she finished the letter, she skimmed it again, looking for a punch line or something that might indicate this was all a dream.
No.
She’d felt the truth in the shape of that baby’s face and in his eyes and his exuberant personality; she’d just not been able to understand it.
Mia folded the letter and numbly tucked it in the back pocket of her jeans. The truth, great and horrible at the same time, crushed down.
And nothing—big or small or seemingly inconsequential—would ever be the same.
Chapter 11
Somehow Mia made it home and got the dogs out of their crates and to the backyard. After the playful mom and pup had pottied and run in a dozen circles, they followed Mia and Ollie back inside to the living room. She couldn’t possibly think of signs or training or anything right now, so she was just letting them run.
She left Ollie in charge of the dogs while she went into the kitchen to make his favorite quick dinner, pasta with butter and Parmesan cheese. Her hands were shaking wildly enough that Mia didn’t manage to get the spoon into the butter tub until the second try. And she was lucky when she didn’t splash boiling water all over herself while draining the noodles.
It was a good thing Ollie was completely consumed with the dogs. She was in shock too deep to have much of a filter. If he noticed and asked what was wrong, she didn’t have it in her to make up a story.
Mia could hear him on the floor with the puppy and knew by his stifled giggles that he was letting the little dog lick his face again. Ollie’s laughter rang out like a strange, distant reality.
She had a seven-year-old son, and she was back to living in her childhood home where everything was familiar and foreign at the same time. Brad’s affair had been with someone she’d be shocked to learn could legally buy alcohol, and he’d fathered a child.
A child. Ollie had a half brother.
A sibling had been the one thing she could never give Ollie, no matter how much she might’ve wanted to. A forever thanks to the car accident she and Brad had been in. She’d gone into labor early and ended up losing her uterus.
But not only had Brad been able to reproduce, he’d done so.
There was a baby—another human being—on this planet who shared half her son’s DNA.
For the second time in an hour, Mia’s knees refused to hold her upright. She sank to the floor behind the wall in the kitchen where Ollie couldn’t see her. She needed to tell him his pasta was ready, but she couldn’t move. It sat on the counter, steaming as it cooled.
A child. A baby. A baby. A child.
Ollie was still laughing, and the puppy was barking. Sadie walked around the corner and approached Mia timidly, sniffing her hair, then her face, arms, and hands. Mia gently pulled her into a hug, and Sadie wagged her tail.
Ollie has a half brother who’s going to look more like his dad than he does.
She folded in half at the thought, pressing her forehead against the cool tile floor. She needed to throw up. It would help her focus. It just wasn’t coming. Instead, her nausea rolled in slow circles around her belly, like a dryer fluffing a delicate set of clothes.
Beside her, Sadie tentatively licked the back of Mia’s ear.
“Mom, are you okay?” Ollie’s voice, coming from much closer than the living room, was pitched in panic.
Remembering her son had just lost a father and didn’t need the stress of finding his mom in a ball on the kitchen floor, Mia found not only the strength to get up, but to make up a story as well. “Yeah, babe, I’m fine. I lost an earring, and I was playing a game with Sadie while I was looking for it. Hungry?”
“Starving.”
For a second, she stared at the pasta, willing herself into action for Ollie’s sake. Thankfully, it worked. Mia sprinkled Parmesan on top and handed the bowl off to him.
She realized she’d forgotten the fork when he set the bowl on the table and returned to fish through the drawer for his favorite, a plastic Spider-Man fork that had come in a kid’s meal and could never go in the dishwasher.
He returned to the table and hunched over his bowl, as hungry as the puppy when presented with his dinner. “It’s cold.” Ollie dropped his fork and looked at her questioningly.
“You can microwave it.” Mia was trying to hold the numbness at bay by staying active. She was rinsing off a few leftover plates from lunch and setting them in the dishwasher.
“I’m not allowed to use the microwave.”
“That’s right. Sorry.” She shut the dishwasher door and crossed over for his plate on unsteady legs.
“Do you have a headache?”
Ollie’s words stabbed her heart. “No, baby, it’s just been a long day. And if I did, it would be okay. Big people get headaches all the time. Kids too, sometimes.” She pressed a kiss on the top of his head, then lifted his bowl in two hands.
How long would it take Ollie to let go of the fear that had come with losing a parent? His pediatrician had recommended he see a therapist, and Ollie’s first appointment was next week. What a hell of a lot of shit Mia would have to give the woman a heads-up about.
It occurred to her it might help for her to talk to someone too, especially now. This afternoon’s news wasn’t something Mia was ready to tell her friends, any of them. She’d tell her mom of course; she told her mom pretty much everything. But there was the whole living on the other side of the planet and not having much access to technology thing her mom had going on. After promising to do her best to come back and help out as Ollie adjusted to losing his father, but failing due to an expired passport, Lynn was as good as missing in action.
There was Ben. Mia was certain all she had to do was text that she needed to talk, and he’d be over in minutes. He’d put Ollie to bed, and afterward he’d sit here in the kitchen much as he’d done back in her old house.
But she wasn’t entirely sure she was ready to tell him this. It was just so impossibly monumental. Somehow, speaking it aloud would make it more real. Then, too, she wondered if he knew her marriage had been all but void of sex for a long time. Ben knew most of what she’d gone through. He’d understand. But what would he think when he heard about this baby?
&
nbsp; She must have been staring into the space, because she scorched Ollie’s noodles in the microwave and had to start with a fresh bowl. When she finally gave it to him, Ollie looked a good deal less enthusiastic about his dinner.
“Sorry,” she said, slipping into the seat next to him.
“Are you gonna eat?”
“Maybe later. I’m still full from that candy-cane cookie.”
“Those were good.”
Mia ran her fingers absentmindedly through Ollie’s hair as the puppy rounded the corner with one of the couch throw pillows in his mouth. This was a total fail of puppy-watching, she realized.
“No, puppy!” Ollie noticed almost as soon as she did and jumped up. Mia was proud to see him run for the replacement teddy bear from Ollie’s old stuffed animal collection they’d gifted to the puppy. “Chew this, pup.”
When the puppy dropped the pillow in exchange for the bear, Ollie remembered to praise him with a thumbs-up sign, then dashed over to the couch to return the pillow. In spite of her inner turmoil, Mia felt a rush of pride. Ollie was ready for a dog of his own. And it seemed he wanted this one as much as she wanted the mama, even though this high-energy puppy would be a lot of work for a long time to come.
It had only been a little over twenty-four hours, but Mia couldn’t imagine letting them go to another home. Sadie and Sam, you’re here to stay, she thought, giving Sadie a scratch on the head. She was sitting at Mia’s feet, watching Ollie eat.
No sooner had Mia thought of this than an image of Stacey in that tight reindeer-face sweater with poms covering her boobs popped into her mind. Rail-thin body, long legs, straight dishwater-blond hair.
At first, there’d only been the shock over the baby. But now something else was rising to the surface.
Ripe, overwhelming anger.
Mia was still coming to terms with how much of herself she’d sacrificed to enable her marriage to work. Brad had been the shiny, bright picture hanging on the wall that other people noticed. She’d been the nail straining to keep him from crashing to the floor. And he hadn’t even been faithful.