Daddy's Baby

by Landis Lain

  “Your first big dance date,” she said. “You look beautiful.”

  “Thank you, mommy,” said Brielle. She glimpsed herself in the mirror and smiled broadly.

  “Mom,” called Kyzie. “Come on, or we’ll be late!”

  Mrs. Bronson hurried from the room.

  A little later the doorbell rang. Mr. Bronson answered and nodded tersely to Damon, who was resplendent in a black suit, lavender shirt, and purple and silver printed tie. He was carrying a box with a lavender rose in it. The rose was surrounded by silver sprayed baby’s breath and purple and silver ribbon.

  “Good evening, sir,” said Damon, nervously. Mr. Bronson looked like he wanted to kill someone, probably Damon, but he stepped to the side to let Damon in.

  Damon started to say something but was saved by the breathless arrival of Sammie, Jamel and Asia. They piled out of Jamel’s car and onto the porch like a small tornado.

  “Hi, Uncle George,” Sammie sang out in her sunny voice. “How are you?”

  “Great, babe,” said Mr. Bronson, with a soft smile. “How’re you?”

  “Good,” she said, twirling. “You like my dress?” It was salmon colored and suited her coloring perfectly. Her hair was a riot of curls and she was wearing matching salmon gloves.

  “You look beautiful as usual,” said Mr. Bronson, shuttling them back to the family room so they could take pictures. He greeted Jamel and they shook hands.

  “Hey, man,” said Jamel, shaking Damon’s hand. “Was’ sup?”

  “Hey, you man,’ said Damon, with a grin. He caught Mr. Bronson’s eye and straightened. Damon shook hands with Jamel and Jamel grinned at him knowingly.

  “So you taking my girl Brielle out, huh?’ asked Jamel. Damon saw Mr. Bronson stiffen out of the corner of his eye.

  “Yes,” said Damon, running a finger over his suddenly too tight collar. Jamel caught Mr. Bronson’s expression and hastened to introduce Asia.

  “Mr. Bronson,” said Jamel. “This is Asia. You know her don’t you?”

  Mr. Bronson smiled.

  “Yeah. How are you Asia?” he said to the small girl dressed in peach taffeta.”

  “Well,” said Asia, in a high, sweet voice. “I made homecoming court this year, but I didn’t have a date so Jamel agreed to take me. Isn’t he sweet?” She beamed at Jamel, who beamed back.

  “It’s my pleasure,” said Jamel, chocolate face and broad smile offset by a cream tuxedo and peach cummerbund and tie. Sammie whipped a camera out of her beaded bag and they all posed for pictures. Kyzie came down the stairs, looking resplendent in a simple floor length burgundy dress and shawl.

  “You look great,” said Damon, looking genuinely impressed. Kyzie gave him a haughty look and then softened with a smile.

  “Thank you,” she said loftily. “I know you’re just saying that so you can get in good with the daddy, but I’ll accept the compliment. Wait until you see Brielle.”

  “I brought you some flowers, Kyzie,” said Sammie with a laugh. “Since you’re my date and all.” Everybody laughed and Sammie handed Kyzie the box with a pink carnation in it.

  “Thank you,” said Kyzie, hugging Sammie.

  “Look at you!” squealed Asia as Brielle walked into the room. Damon was speechless for a full minute. Fortunately, Sammie and Asia squealed and exclaimed long enough for him to regain his composure.

  Finally he got himself together enough to walk over to Brielle and take her hand.

  He forgot all about her father glowering in the background.

  “You look like a princess,” he breathed. “A really beautiful princess.”

  “Thank you,” said Brielle, eyes shining. “You look nice, too.” They stood looking at each other for a few moments until a throat was cleared.

  “Oh,” said Damon, holding out the corsage box. “This is for you.” Brielle took the proffered box and opened it.

  “How cute,” she breathed. “It’s really nice. Thank you.”

  “You wear it on your wrist,” said Damon. He lifted it out of the box and clumsily put it on her slender wrist.

  “Let’s take pictures!” said Sammie. They posed.

  “Oh,” said Brielle. “I almost forgot.” She walked over to the refrigerator in the adjoining kitchen and pulled it open. She pulled out two small boxes and handed one to Kyzie. The second one, she handed to Damon.

  “This is for you,” she said. Damon took the boutonnière box and smiled.

  “This is kind of cool,” he said. “Thank you.” He stood still while she pinned the small purple rosebud on his collar.

  Sammie took hers, pinned it on the bodice of her dress and said to Kyzie, “Thank you date. I’ll never take it off.” The two air kissed each other.

  Everybody laughed. After they’d mugged for the camera and Mrs. Bronson had shed a few tears over her daughter on a first date, Brielle and Damon were finally seated in his car on the way to the restaurant. He had walked her to her car door and gotten her seated under her father’s gimlet eye and was just starting to relax a little.

  Damon stopped at a red light and looked around.

  “What are you looking for?’ asked Brielle.

  “Making sure your dad is not following us,” he said. When he’d assured himself that they were truly alone he leaned over and kissed her lips softly.

  “Hello,” he said.

  “Hello,” said Brielle. She smiled shyly. “You’ve got lip gloss on your lips.” He wiped his index finger over his lips and looked at it.

  “I wonder how that got there?” he asked, wagging his eyebrows. Brielle laughed, pulled a tissue out of her small purse and handed it to him.

  Once they got to the restaurant, they were seated at a table for two. They could hear Kyzie, Sammie and about eight other kids from school having a boisterous time, but they sat and talked quietly, enjoying each other’s company.

  “So,” said Damon.

  “So,” said Brielle. They both laughed nervously.

  “How’s the swimming coming?” he asked, though he knew very well that Brielle and her team had won the last two meets.

  Brielle launched into a monologue and they relaxed.

  “Anyway, that’s more than you ever wanted to know about swimming,” she said, when she’d exhausted the subject. “What good books have you read?

  “Lately,” he said. “Not much.”

  “Why not?” she asked.

  “Well, I’m working on getting my grades up,” he admitted. “Mr. Tally says he’ll help me get a scholarship, if I show him that I’m serious.”

  “What is your grade point average?” asked Brielle.

  “Three point four,” said Damon.

  “That’s really good,” said Brielle. “I think mine is a three point five. I’ve got a C coming in trig that will probably totally wreck my grade point, though.”

  “Yeah, but I want to try for this Bill Gates scholarship,” said Damon. “And you’ve got to be a great student to get it.”

  The server interrupted them and asked if they were ready to order.

  “Oh,” said Brielle. “I think I’m going to have either shrimp or chicken. What are you getting?”

  “Chicken,” said Damon, seriously. “And you should get chicken, too.”

  “Why?” asked Brielle. “You don’t like shrimp?” She looked at him and cocked her head to the side.

  He shrugged his shoulders in embarrassment.

  “I’m allergic,” he admitted.

  “Really?” said Brielle, amazed that the boy in front of her actually had a flaw.

  “Yeah,” he said. “In addition to the stupid asthma, no seafood, or I swell up like a balloon.”

  “Oh, wow,” said Brielle, eyes big. She looked at the waitress. “I’ll have the chicken, too.” The waitress thanked them, took the menus and headed to the next table to take another order.

  “Does that mean you can’t swim in the ocean?” asked Brielle.

  “I never thought about it,” said Damon. “Not too m
any oceans around Michigan.”

  “What else are you allergic to?”

  “Not too much, anymore,” he said. “Mostly just nuts and shellfish. When I was little, my moms said I only had rice cereal and lettuce to eat, I was allergic to so much stuff.”

  “No peanut butter?” she asked, aghast.

  “For some reason,” he said, shaking his head. “I can eat peanut butter and jelly. But, like walnuts and pecans, they are the worst. I have an epi-pen in the car. I’m supposed to keep it on me but it messed up the line of my suit.”

  “So, if I had seafood, you couldn’t be around me?” asked Brielle.

  “Yeah, I could,” he said. “But I couldn’t kiss you or my lips would swell up.”

  Oh, well,” said Brielle, laughing. “In that case, I’m glad I got the chicken.”

  Sasha

  “So, you are working fries tonight and you’ll help with the drive thru”

  Sasha pulled her McDonald’s shift shirt over her head and down over her burgeoning belly. She sat down on a folding chair in the back of the restaurant and struggled to retie her black shoes. Tying shoes over her belly was a chore. Sasha couldn’t imagine that she was going to get any bigger.

  “Okay,” Sasha replied to her manager.

  Sasha had quit the nursing home the night of her date with Clifford. She didn’t want to face him and she didn’t want another wrestling match in the car. She didn’t want Clifford touching her, not ever again. Gail helped her get the job at McDonald’s after begging the manager to give her a chance, but Sasha didn’t know how long she could do the work. After only ten days her back ached from standing at the fry machine for hours. She took orders sometimes but handling the rude, smelly, leering customers was almost worse than getting popped by grease and sniffing fry oil for hours. At least at the fry station, the conversation was limited to large or small fries and for here or to go.

  All evening Sasha rotated between the freezing drive thru window and the fry station. She was thrilled when she could go back to the fry station to get warm. McDonald’s was crowded all evening, with all of the employees hopping and running. Sasha bagged up the thousandth bag of fries and turned to take them to the front and the next thing she knew, her feet slipped from under her and she was flat on her back.

  “Oh my God! Are you all right!” screamed one of the cooks, a young man named Kyle. He ran over to her and dropped to his knees.

  “Tell me you’re okay!”

  “I think so,” said Sasha. She tried to sit up and winced.

  “Lay down,” said Kyle. “Don’t move.”

  “Are you all right?” asked Kelsey. Sasha could hear customers asking questions and offering advice.

  “I keep telling them they need to put a better mat down in the winter. Grease and water are so slippery,” said Kyle.

  Sasha heard the orders keep coming. She could hear ringing and order taking. Other employees stepped around her to complete their orders. Another person went to find a bucket, broom and mop. Sasha felt as though she was covered in French fries. She could feel them over her hair and chest.

  “They shouldn’t even let pregnant women work at McDonald’s,” said Kyle, patting her shoulder. “It is too dangerous!”

  Kelsey shushed Kyle but wouldn’t let her get up so Sasha spent the next ten minutes looking up at the grease stained ceiling until the pain hit. Her whole back and abdomen clutched in agony as though squeezed by some giant unseen hand. Then Sasha doubled over in a fetal position until the ambulance came.

  Sasha stayed in the emergency room, alone and terrified, for hours while they ran tests, made her sign tons of papers and drained what looked to Sasha like all the blood in her body, just to make certain that she wasn’t threatening to lose the baby. Sasha wished she would lose it. Then she could go home and mama wouldn’t be mad. The doctor came into the room. She was tall, with a graying bob, granny glasses, and wearing green scrubs.

  “Good morning,” she said. “I’m Dr. Fisher. How are you?”

  “I’m okay,” said Sasha. “I just fell. I’ll be fine.”

  “Are you still in pain?”

  “No, it stopped,” said Sasha. “I’m good.”

  “Well,” said Dr. Fisher, eying her chart on the mobile medical unit and kept up a running commentary. “That seems to be true. No more chain restaurants for you, Miss Lady, for the rest of your pregnancy, eating or working. Falling is bad for mama and baby. Fast food’s not too healthy, either. We are going to get an ultrasound, just to be sure, okay? If that looks good, we’ll let you go home. Is someone here with you?”

  Sasha shook her head. The doctor eyed her closely.

  “Is there someone we can call?”

  “I’m staying at the shelter,” said Sasha. “I’m not supposed to give out the address and telephone.”

  “We have it,” said the Doctor, with a smile. She checked Sasha’s vitals, patted her on the arm and bustled out of the room, promising to try to get back to Sasha before she discharged.

  A few minutes later a male nurse called Steve bustled in and wheeled her to the ultrasound room, keeping up a commentary and asking her questions about the terrible weather outside. The ultrasound technician, named Amy hooked her up to a monitor and spread cold jelly on her belly. She explained every move she made and soothed as she went.

  “I’m scared,” said Sasha, staring at all of the machinery surrounding her.

  “It’s okay to be a little scared,” said Amy. “Every new mom is a little scared at first. But I’m here on the job and we are going to check out this little tike and make certain things are going well. We might even be able to tell if you are going to have a girl or a boy.”

  “You can do that?”

  “Sometimes,” said Amy, with a bright smile. “If the baby cooperates.” She slid the wand around on Sasha’s stomach. Sasha heard a whooshing sound and then a steady beat, like a tiny drum.

  “There is the heartbeat,” said Amy. “Sounds awesome! Baby is moving nicely.”

  “That’s my baby?” asked Sasha, stunned. She had refused to go to the doctor for the last few months whenever anyone mentioned it. “Somebody really is going to wear those tiny clothes, for real?”

  “Look at the picture,” said Amy, pointing to the black and white screen. “There is the head, this is the body and look, the baby is sucking his widdle thumb. Awwwwww!”

  “It’s a boy?” asked Sasha, in wonder.

  “Let’s check!” said Amy, moving the wand. She tapped Sasha’s belly with her fingers to no avail. “No, sorry, can’t tell. The little stinker has the legs crossed over for modesty!”

  Sasha laughed. “It’s okay, maybe it’s better if I get a surprise.”

  “I like surprises, too,” said Amy, smiling. “Are you excited about your baby?”

  “I wasn’t,” said Sasha, still staring at the screen. “Until now. Can I get a picture to keep?”

  “Absolutely,” said Amy. She printed out the picture and handed it to Sasha, with a flourish.

  “You baby’s first photo op,” said Amy.

  “Wow.”

  Sasha smiled. For the first time in nearly two months she felt a little hope.

  Damon and Brielle

  The dance was an enchanted evening for Brielle. Damon turned out to be a pretty good dancer. He didn’t get mad when she danced with other boys, but just sat and watched her. A couple of other girls asked him to dance and he quietly shook his head.

  Brielle came to the table breathless after a particularly fast song.

  “Why aren’t you dancing?” she asked.

  “No reason,” he said. “I’m not that big on dances.”

  “Oh,” said Brielle, surprised. “You’re a really good dancer. I love to dance.”

  “I could tell,” he said, with a smile. “I like to watch you.”

  “Where’d you learn to dance, then?” asked Brielle.

  “Jada makes me practice with her,” said Damon.

  At that moment Jam
el came up with Kyzie.

  “Hey, Bri,” he yelled. “Come dance!”

  He looked at Damon and Damon nodded permission. Brielle waved at him and left with Jamel.

  “Come on Damon,” said Kyzie, holding out her hand. “You can dance with me. My date has been swarmed by a bunch of boys.” She gestured towards Sammie and a crowd of boys.

  “You don’t even like me,” said Damon. “Why do you want to dance?”

  She leaned closer to him.

  “I’ve been watching you with my sister,” she said, cocking her head to study him. “And you treat her nice and respectful. So, I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. Plus, all these other girls are about to swoop down and I’m saving you from a cat fight.”

  Damon laughed and stood up. Kyzie smiled. For one moment Damon was struck by how much the sisters resembled each other, although feature by feature, they looked nothing alike. It was more in the expressions, he concluded.

  “Lead the way,” he said. After that, he danced with safe girls, Sammie, Kyzie or Asia. When a slow song came on Kyzie abandoned him on the floor and went and found another boy to dance with. Damon searched the room and found Brielle. She was standing on the dance floor, trying to pull away from Chauncey. She did not look happy. Chauncey was dressed in dress pants and a dress shirt with his football jersey over it, still savoring the win against Lansing Southern. Damon hoped that the fool had at least washed the thing before he put it back on.

  “I think this is my dance,” said Damon, taking Brielle by her free hand.

  “I thought she was your little sister,” said Chauncey, not letting go.

  Damon leaned in so Chauncey could hear him over the music. “I changed my mind.”

  “I see why,” said Chauncey with a wicked grin. Damon jerked back a little as he got a blast of liquor on Chauncey’s breath. “I didn’t realize she was so fine. Boy, if she was mine, I’d--,”

  “Do nothing,” said Damon, firmly. He met Chauncey’s eyes boldly.