by M. J. Fields
“And who’s the daddy, Keeka?”
The line goes dead.
Fuck that.
I hit redial and get sent to voicemail.
I try again and again and again.
My angels and my demon
Keeka
During my entire pregnancy, I focused on everything good I had. Part of that included all the things my mother taught me about natural and holistic living, like reducing stress with yoga. And what I had learned from our life. Namely: how to escape the outside world and focus on everything that was in the here and now, the things that brought me joy.
I dreamed. I danced. I read. I talked to this little life growing inside of me.
Four days ago, my water broke at Maddox Hines’ house—I mean, mansion. While in the worst pain of my life, I had London to focus on, which was comforting. But with London comes her mother Emma, Logan’s stepmother Tessa, and a medical nurse who asked all sorts of medical questions that I didn’t have answers to because I chose to do this pregnancy my way. Plus, Logan’s sister Ava, who I wanted to kill, was in my face, and then there was Maddox’s wife Harper who was like the sweetest person in the world.
Normally, I can keep my emotions halfway in check. Labor is not normal conditions, and I lost my shit more that day than I had in my entire life.
I had planned on my delivery being a quiet and serene atmosphere. There was nothing quiet about it.
When I was in labor, I had four people asking me a million questions about my medical history, which included my parents. When I mentioned my mother’s name, Tessa and Lucas had happened to know her back in their younger years. It was the most overwhelming experience I have ever felt emotionally.
Well, until I heard them in the hall, whispering about me and my mother. I was sure the secrets I still held would be exposed.
When I heard them talking about DNA tests, and then heard that they believed my father and London’s were the same … and worse yet, Tessa’s cousin, I was sure they were planning to take my child from me as soon as she was born.
After I had the most angelic-looking child I have ever seen, I couldn’t even look at her, fearing someone was going to take her from me. I was sure they would contact Trucker and say, “Come get your child. Her mother’s genetically prone to be bat-shit crazy.”
When London told me that she knew she was my sister, regardless of the results, I felt a little less on edge. Still, it was so hard to look at my baby.
The next day, when I didn’t have Logan or London’s familiar faces in the room, but Lucas Links singing all sorts of songs to her that had the word angel in it … calling her Angel, I knew she was going to be taken away.
I hated him. I hated Tessa. I hated the rock star and his wife who were looming outside my door. I even briefly hated Logan and London.
And then Lucas, the baby hog, and Tessa, who was Suzie Sunshine, kind of forced me to suck it up, forced me to look at her. And from that moment, she became everything to me.
Leddie Lou. I named her after a cartoon dog and the talking orange ball from my childhood drawings. I did so because she was everything good, and I promised her, without words, that she would have an incredible life.
When I told Logan I wasn’t going to live in the apartment he had ready for us, he threatened to call Trucker, again.
I was angry at him for doing it in the first place, but he assured me that Trucker wasn’t coming after Leddie and played a little on my fears by telling me that he could make sure of it from the apartment, one that he and I would share.
I still don’t have my brain wrapped around this new family thing, but Logan and my sister, London—now confirmed through DNA testing—are like watch dogs, keeping everyone away.
The apartment I live in now is more upscale than the hotel Trucker and I spent the night at a lifetime ago. Logan and the baby hog own the building, and they are renovating the entire thing. Now, Lucas, the baby hog, who irritated me to no end, is now a pretty permanent fixture, and his annoyances has become enduring.
London and I bonded before either of us knew we were sisters, although she claims she knew from the moment she saw me that we were going to be forever friends.
It’s still very hard to accept that her mother, Emma, doesn’t dislike me. I was in fact “the other woman’s” child with her husband. I do know that she seems sincere, and that she has a very fierce loyalty to family. And since London is her daughter, I believe she would support her if I had actual horns growing out of my head.
I am without a doubt the awkward duck around here, but my comfort level with them increases each day. And if by chance they are faking about the fact that they want me to be part of this family, I know there is no way they could fake the way they look at Leddie, hold her, talk to her.
Comfort levels had certainly climbed to an all-time high until it was just exposed that the person text messaging me was Trucker. Now … now I feel like a complete and total mess … again.
I have declined several calls and just received a couple of messages.
Trucker
Who’s the Daddy?
Trucker
That was a nice fucking goodbye letter you left for me, except the part where I gave you an STI. News flash: I never had one, so answer the question. Who’s. The. Fucking. Daddy?
How the hell did I forget that? I ask myself. How could I have forgotten that stupid bump. The stupid bump from shaving myself when I was lying there night after night waiting for him?
Keeka
Sorry about that. Wasn’t an STI after all. You. Are. Not. A. Fucking. Daddy.
I send the message then toss the phone beside me and pick Leddie up.
“Okay, angel baby, let’s feed you. Apparently, we’re meeting your grandmother Josie and London’s sister, your kind of, sort of aunt Lexington tonight.”
She squeaks a bit, and I smile.
“Trust me; I can’t even keep them all straight, so I don’t expect you to. You’re off the hook.”
My phone rings and startles her.
As she’s crying, I grab it and answer, “What?”
“What? Fuck you.”
“Shhh …” I say, holding the phone with my shoulder against my ear as I get her to latch on so she won’t cry. “There you go. All better.”
“Swear to God, Keeka, you’ve put me on a fucking mind-trip from hell, and now, oops I’m sorry? I looked for you! I fucking looked for you all damn summer, and no one knew who the fuck I was talking about! STI, huh? Classy shit right there.”
“I am feeding my child and would prefer it to be in a calm environment. I answered the phone because you scared … my child.”
“You breastfeeding and shit?”
That question takes me aback.
“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
“Well, fuck you.”
I see Leddie smile and can’t help laughing, even though I know it’s probably a gas bubble.
“How’s that even funny?”
“Hey, I think you’ve probably had too much to drink so—”
“No! I asked a damn question. I want an answer.”
“Okay, let’s see. I had a bump from shaving. An ingrown hair—”
“I fucking shaved you every time.”
“Well, after … Lou’s office, I thought maybe … So, you know. Then several times after that. And, well, I got an ingrown hair. It got infected. It was taken care of.”
“Truth?”
“Yes, the truth, like I’d make something like that up? Geez, like it’s not embarrassing enough.”
“Next. You breastfeeding?”
“Why is that any of your business?”
“Well, you said you didn’t want stress, so I figured you were concerned with tainted tittie milk.”
If I wasn’t annoyed with him, I would laugh.
“Yep.”
“Fuck,” he whispers.
Why, after all these months, does him whispering that word completely hit me between my
freaking legs?
“My turn,” I tell him. “How did you know Jones? Get him to give you my number? And why?”
“None of your damn business, but you keep that shit to yourself.”
“I’m sorry, Trucker,” I whisper. “I really am.”
“Whatever,” he huffs.
I see my bedroom door open, and London peeks her head in. “Hey, the gangs all here.”
“Okay, give me a second, will you?”
“Sure thing.”
“Who was that?” he asks.
“I have to go.”
“Tell Logan to go fuck himself.”
“You sure you want me to do that?”
“No, because then he’ll know I called you, and that’s none of his fucking business.”
When I hear the phone click, I end the call on my end, too.
Lying in bed, feeding Leddie, I am exhausted.
“Tonight’s been a big night, huh, Leddie? I know you slept a ton, but did you happen to catch our little auntie talking up a storm while I was breastfeeding you? Your grandma Carmen would have approved. Heck, she would have approved if I were sitting on a stage in front of thousands of people feeding you.”
I swear she smiles, even though she’s only a little over a week old.
“Yeah, your kind-of-uncle and kind-of-step-grandfather are going to be on one in two days to raise money for all the people who lost their lives the day Logan saved your aunt London for us. I want to think there was a purpose for that senseless act of violence. I want to think a part of all of them is a part of you now.
“I can’t help crying for what was lost and what was gained that day. Is it wrong to want to try to make sense of something horrific? Huh, Leddie?”
I hold her well after she has fallen to sleep while I think about all that has happened just today.
I met my father’s mother. It was like when I met London—an immediate connection. She and I stepped away from everyone, and then she broke my heart by way of sharing things that will never be talked about with London, or anyone else.
She shared things about my mom and dad. She told me that, when they met, he changed from party boy to a man ready to grow up. She talked about how in love they were at one point, and how, when they broke up, he was devastated. She told me she sensed something was off by the way he could at times turn so cool. She also told me that Troy Fields, my father, tried the best he could to understand, but Carman pushed him away.
She didn’t know they had started seeing each other again, but laughed when she said, “Not like my boy would have said, hey, Mom, I’m having an affair, just like my old man did when he was with you.”
Then she told me her biggest secret. “Troy’s father, he was married when we met, so don’t you ever think you are any less part of this family because of that, my girl. So this granny will never judge a thing you, or anyone else for that matter, does.”
She called me my girl. It wasn’t just that she said the words, but the look she gave me when she did, and the feelings in which she exuded while saying them to me. I knew she meant it one hundred percent, and that, that moment, I knew beyond a reasonable doubt that I was in fact home.
We talked about other things, too, like when I was in kindergarten and we lived here. We came to the realization that the place my mom was working was where Troy worked as an accountant. And that, when my mom went into her worst crash, when we lived in New Jersey, it was after Troy had died.
When I lay Leddie down in the basinet attached to the side of my bed, I cry a little more.
The next day, London decided we should have a girls’ day while Logan and Lucas fought over Leddie. It wasn’t difficult to leave her, since I had pumped enough for three feedings. But it was difficult accepting that Troy had left an inheritance that London wanted to share. I felt like a mooch, and I had never been one. London convinced me otherwise, and we did it up.
The best part of the day was the Brazilian wax. It was her first time. Meanwhile, after the incident with the dull razor, I was a seasoned pro. Even though I hadn’t been sexually active, I just liked the way it felt down there—bare.
My sister, she looked freaked out after the first strip was applied and peeled, so I told her the story about Trucker and the STI. She laughed through most of the experience, and then we were off to do nails and manicures, followed by lunch.
When we returned back to the building, the place was packed and felt a little uneasy about Leddie being around so many people, even though she was strapped to Logan in the infant carrier.
I watched all the volunteers swooning over Maddox and Brody, and yes, Lucas, who was a professional football player years ago. To me, he would always be “the baby hog.”
London just shrugged. “It’s a part of it, Keeka. It’s also the reason I was Elle here. I just wanted my own thing, you know?”
I knew. I absolutely knew. And know.
That night, as I lay feeding Leddie, I told her about my day and asked her about hers. Her answers came in grunts and the filling of her diapers.
“Is it wrong to miss someone so much when you’re away from them for just a few hours?” I ask as I change her poopy diaper, nearly gagging, and laugh. “Even when she smells horrible?
“You are so loved, Leddie Lou. So very loved by so many.”
When she is asleep, I lay down and make sure my phone is on the charger.
Tomorrow, we go set up for the fundraiser, and since it will be Leddie’s and my first real outing, I want to give myself plenty of time to get ready so we don’t make anyone late.
A soon as I plug it in, I see a message and know exactly who it is from.
Trucker
Your tits free?
Keeka
I hope all is well, Trucker. I’m going to bed. It’s been a long day.
Trucker
How the fuck can all be well?
Keeka
Choose happiness, even in the wake of horrific events.
Trucker The early bird gets the worm, but the second mouse gets the worm.
Keeka
I don’t understand.
Trucker
I don’t need your fortune cookie inspired bullshit any more than you need mine.
Keeka
I was trying to be helpful.
Trucker
And all I want is the fucking truth!
Keeka
Goodnight, Trucker.
I look at the text sent and cringe when I see the moon. How did that happen?
It’s okay, it’s okay, I think as I quickly type another text.
Keeka
Please ignore previous fortune cookie text.
Trucker
Not on your fucking life.
New game
Trucker
Sleep is a thing of the past. Grief and anger have taken its place.
I sigh as I get out of the cab and pull my shades down, looking up at the big marshmallow in the sky. The fucking Dome.
I walk up to security and get a hero’s fucking welcome. I embrace that shit, knowing I’m about to get kicked in the nuts.
When I walk inside, I inhale the stale scent that I always caught a buzz off of as a kid. I walk down the stairs to the box that I sat in with Logan and his family for the first college game I ever watched, the place I truly caught the bug.
Leaning over, I look down at the crowd of people preparing for tomorrow’s events—the fundraiser for the families of the victims of the shooting. There was no family for JJ Jones, and there was no way in hell I was going to let his story be left untold.
Coach Brown has kept my secret, and I will forever be grateful. I was afraid of what I would face here, but after last night’s little fucking text, I decided I would come a day early and not just appear on stage and jet afterward.
I want to face her. I want to face Logan. So, today is about that. Tomorrow will be all about JJ.
I see her first. She has a little more ass than before, which would be great if it was a turn off
. It’s not. When she turns, I see her smiling at London, and I see a baby carrier strapped to her chest, so I don’t know if the B’s have grown or not, but I’m assuming so. She looks good from here.
She kisses the hat on the baby’s head and bounces up and down a bit then starts to sway. I see the baby look up at her and see her mouth moving. The baby puts her hand in her mouth and seems to be chewing on it. Then she pulls it out, pulls something from the bag strapped to her, and wipes off its hand, a hand that promptly lands on the side of her face. Her head tips back, and she starts fucking laughing, right before she kisses its head a dozen or more times.
Fuck.
I sit down and watch her smile. She’s fucking beautiful and happy. If I weren’t so fucking insanely jealous of whoever’s kid that was, I would fucking walk over there. But fuck her for being that happy without me.
When I see her unstrap the carrier and London takes the baby, it pisses me off. Then she starts to hurry toward the exit, and I decide now is as good a time as ever.
I hurry down the stairs and toward where she exited. She must have gone to the bathroom, so I wait outside it, hoping I’m right. It seems like I’m there forever before she finally walks out, looking down.
I don’t say shit; just step in her way.
She doesn’t slow down, paying no fucking attention when she runs into me. Unlike every other time this has happened, I’m prepared to ensure she doesn’t land on her ass.
When I grab her hips, she laughs and looks up.
No words come out, but she shakes her head, looking fucking terrified of me.
“What’s up, Keeka?”
She does the open and closing of her mouth with no words a few times before I smirk.
“Not even gonna stutter for me?”
She’s frozen, stiff as a fucking board.
“You sent me the moon, yet I can’t even get a little sunshine, Ray? I haven’t seen you in … How many months has it been?”
She whispers, “Hi.”
I study her face. “You wanna tell me whose kid that was strapped to you out there? The one who made you smile bigger than I ever could?”