by Trudy Stiles
“Why are you telling me all of this?” I ask. “This has nothing to do with me.”
Peggy’s nails threaten to pierce my skin, and I try to pull my arm away from her grasp.
“This has everything to do with you, Mr. Armstrong. You’re Kai’s father, and he needs a good and stable home.” She looks around my house, taking it all in.
“Then find him one. Just not here.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, Peggy gasps and practically draws blood from me.
“We’re trying.” Nicole’s tears are back, and her face begins to blur. The room seems to be tilting or spinning or something.
“Garrett? Are you okay?” Peggy releases her death grip on my arm and calls out to the kitchen. “Heath, can you bring some water?”
He tosses a bottle my way, and I open it up right away. I take a sip then gulp the rest down. I feel like I’m on another planet right now or in a dream. Please let this be a dream.
“We’re trying to find Kai a home. As I mentioned before, I had been working with Sadie again recently, helping her form an adoption plan. She realized she couldn’t take care of her son and was supportive of the plan. She even went as far as selecting a family to potentially adopt him. We had begun working with an attorney who specializes in private adoptions. The day that Kai was born, Sadie tested positive for multiple drugs. We had to disclose this to the adoption attorney, who informed us that the family that he had been working with declined to adopt Kai. Sadie was devastated and left the hospital. That was the last time I saw her—alive.”
“Jesus,” Heath and I say at the same time.
“I don’t know what I can do,” I respond honestly. I’m not equipped to bring a baby into this house. I’m not equipped to take care of anyone. I’m not equipped to be a father.
“Just try to work with me, please. My goal is to place Kai with family. You’re his only family now.”
“This isn’t right. You can’t just come in here and try to throw this major guilt trip my way about a sick little boy who needs a father!” I’m angry at how unfair this situation is and I want her out of my house.
“Garrett!” Peggy’s voice booms throughout the den. “Hear her out. There’s a solution here, and we need to do what’s best for this little boy.”
What the fuck is going on?
“Please listen to me. I’m begging you,” Nicole pleads once again.
“Please, Garrett,” Peggy says calmly.
“Here’s how I can help. I have plenty of money. Let me hire a private investigator and see if we can find some real blood relatives out there. They have to exist.” The possibility of the alternative is terrifying.
“There is nobody else. We’ve tried to find Sadie’s family before. I’ve been trying since she was nine years old. She had no one. She died alone.”
“But there must be a foster home willing to take him, right?” I’m grasping, desperate.
All three sets of eyes in the room turn to me, and I feel them burn through my skull. Judging.
“I’m in a band. Constantly on the road. I can’t commit to this,” I say weakly, suddenly embarrassed.
“Really?” Heath interrupts. “Our tour is over after tomorrow night’s show. Then we have time off before we begin writing our next album. I expect we’ll be here for at least twelve to eighteen months before we’re back on the road again.”
“Exactly! Until we’re back on the road again. Like we are for six to eight months every year. Sleeping on tour buses. Partying like the rock stars that we are. Dude, what are you trying to do?” My fists are clenched, and I’m doing everything I can to not jump up and strangle Heath.
“Why don’t we call your parents?” Peggy quietly interjects. “I know that between me and them, we can help raise this baby in a loving environment and give him the home he deserves.”
Holy shit.
“Leave my parents out of this, Aunt Peggy. They’re in North Carolina and are too far to be involved in this decision.”
“Yes, but they still have a home in town and can be here at a moment’s notice. They’re retired, and I’m sure they would be thrilled to know they have a grandson.”
Is she threatening me? What is she trying to do?
“I don’t know. This is all so crazy. I can’t do this.” The room begins to spin again and this time I think I’m going to throw up.
Nicole fidgets in her seat and looks uncomfortable. She crosses her legs, her eyes sad and pleading.
“Mr. Armstrong, I have to tell you that this is a highly unusual situation, even for me. I shouldn’t even be here, begging you like this. But I feel—I feel responsible for this child’s life more than I can express. If I could take him myself, I would. I have four of my own children at home and a husband who works the night shift. We live in a tiny three-bedroom home and have no room for our own family much less adding another. I wish I could take him. Oh my God, I need to leave. This is wrong…”
Nicole bolts out of the chair and runs toward the front door. My emotions are all over the place and I’m suddenly worried for this baby who everyone keeps telling me is mine. I’m worried that he’ll wind up in some dark alley like Sadie. Alone. Forgotten.
“Wait!” Peggy and I call out in unison. Nicole stops and slowly turns around, and Peggy grabs my hand.
“What were you going to say?” I ask Peggy.
“I was going to tell her that we’ll take him,” she responds quickly. “Isn’t that what you were going to say?”
I swallow heavily and shake my head. “No, Peggy, I plan to offer her money.” The look of disgust on her face chokes me, and I want to hide. Nicole comes back into the room with hope in her eyes, and I’m about to crush her yet again.
Peggy pulls me into a tight hug and says sternly in my ear, “You’ll take your son, and I am going to help. You need to trust me.”
How can this woman have so much control over me? She’s my housekeeper. Someone I barely spend time with. Yet she’s become ingrained in my family. My parents keep tabs on me through her. She’s a fixture here, and now she’s offering to help raise a child I just learned about today.
“Peggy, I don’t—” I can’t seem to say the words that are stuck in my throat, choking the life out of me.
“Nicole, what do we need to do to make this happen?” Peggy interrupts and Nicole lets out a relieved breath.
She fumbles with her cell phone and says, “Let me call the hospital now and make all of the arrangements.”
“Hospital?” I ask hesitantly.
Nicole responds with sadness in her eyes, “Mr. Armstrong, your son is a very sick little boy.”
Peggy grabs my hand and squeezes tight. I look at her with dread.
“We got this,” she says confidently.
Sam
Past
Villanova, Pennsylvania
Age 10
“SAMANTHA, ARE YOU READY?” Mom’s voice echoes through the house as I pull together what I need from my desk.
“Coming, Mom!” I call as I run down the stairs.
“Dad’s waiting outside. He’s already loaded the car.” She kisses me on my cheek and we rush out the door together.
He’s outside, closing the back of our SUV. “We’re all set!” he says cheerfully and rushes to get into the driver’s seat. I slide into the back and look over my shoulder.
My science project is perfectly positioned in the back—our universe literally hanging by a thread.
“Dad, do you think we have the planets balanced okay? Jupiter looks like it’s a little droopy,” I say, reaching back trying to touch the Styrofoam planet and position it properly.
“Don’t touch it, Sam. I had to creatively position it so it would fit. We’ll assemble it as soon as we get there,” Dad says confidently.
Now I’m worried. What if all of our hard work gets crushed in the back of our SUV? This is the science fair. THE science fair.
“Dad, why can’t I just—” I stretch as far as I can, but Jupiter is still out o
f my reach.
“Breathe, Sam. Breathe.” His voice is soothing, and I relax my arm until it drops into my lap.
“It just needs to be perfect, Dad. This is like ninety percent of my grade this marking period.”
“Stop exaggerating. It’s not ninety percent. It’s not even twenty percent of your grade. Your teacher said it was extra credit, and you already have an A so calm down.” He smiles and says, “You know, you remind me of myself when I was your age. In fact, I seem to remember doing something very similar. I was obsessed with math and science and won first place in my science fair that year with a very similar-looking solar system.”
“No pressure or anything, Dad!” First place? Ugh!
We pull up to the school, and I see all of the familiar faces from my science class. Cassie’s here with her grandparents. She didn’t do a project; she’s just here to support me.
“Oooh! Look at the planets.” She stares into the back of our SUV. My mother disappeared as soon as we got here and quickly emerges from the building with a rolling cart.
“It should fit nicely on this,” she exclaims, very proud of herself with the assist.
“That’s perfect, honey,” my dad says, and they smile at each other. I swear, I never see them upset, sad or arguing.
With my help, we slide the solar system onto the cart and carefully roll it into our gymnasium that’s been converted to a science fair.
I look around and don’t see any other solar systems. Phew!
“Let’s get this to your table.” Dad maneuvers through the crowds of people and expertly transfers the solar system onto my table.
I circle the display, making sure every pin is in place, every planet is in proper alignment. After confirming the labels are in the correct places, I take a deep breath. “It looks good, Dad.”
“It sure does. You’ve got yourself a winner here,” he says proudly and pulls me into his chest for one of his famous hugs.
I scan the other displays and try to find my steepest competition. Eddie Boyle is testing his volcano, and it doesn’t seem to be working. Trisha O’Toole has a greenhouse-like contraption with a lopsided tomato plant as its focal point. Piper Greenstein is watering a sunflower, and there may or may not be a bumble bee buzzing over her head. Nice touch, Piper.
There are at least fifteen other students fussing with their displays and worry begins to set in.
“You’ve got this,” my dad whispers in my ear. “Don’t let them see you sweat.”
“I don’t know, Dad. Piper has a live bumble bee.” We both look over toward her table when Mr. Fahey swats at the bee, knocking it to the floor, and then stomps on it.
“Not anymore.” My dad laughs.
“Ew,” I say as Mr. Fahey grinds his foot into the floor even harder. I think it’s officially mushed.
Good, Piper no longer has a chance now that her bee is dead.
“Boys and Girls. Moms and Dads.” Mr. Fahey’s voice is barely audible over the speaker system.
“Thank you for coming today to the Fifth Grade Science Fair. I know the students who chose to participate worked really hard on their projects.” His eyes scan the room and find Cassie. She refused to do a project and didn’t care if she missed out on the opportunity to get a boost in her grade. I know he was disappointed that she decided not to participate.
“For the next sixty minutes, science teachers from other schools in our district and I, will make our way to each display. We will rate it on several factors, including accuracy, size and scale, functionality and overall merit. Good luck to all of you and we’ll announce winners when we’re finished.”
“What does merit mean?” I ask my father.
“It means it has to be good overall. They’ll take it all under consideration and base their judgment on that. Don’t worry, Sam. Your solar system is perfect.”
“You mean our solar system.” I smile and give him a kiss.
The next hour is stressful. I watch the judges move from table to table with scowls on their faces. They don’t seem to like any of the projects, and I’m sure mine will not impress them in the least.
Mr. Fahey leads the group to my table and stops, quietly observing. I see them bending and measuring the distance between planets. They keep referring to the scale that I placed at the corner of my table. One of the other judges takes a plastic ruler from her pocket, and places it over the scale and nods her head. I have no idea what is going on, but they are all mumbling amongst themselves.
“Ms. Weston, can you tell us the size of our solar system?” My chest clenches and I look over at my dad, who just smiles and nods his head.
“Well, I don’t think anyone has been able to come up with an exact size, but many astronomers say if you drove your car from the Sun to Pluto, it would take six thousand years.”
“And our entire solar system?” Mr. Fahey presses.
“That could take a car almost nineteen million years to drive, Mr. Fahey. It’s really, really big.”
I take a deep breath and try to think of other things they could possibly quiz me on.
“This solar system is constructed remarkably, Ms. Weston. Your attention to detail is quite stunning,” one of the judges says with a smile. My dad nudges me and I swat his hand away.
“Thank you.”
The group moves on to Eddie’s table, and he’s practically in tears. His volcano hasn’t worked properly all day, and I suddenly feel sorry for him.
“See?” Dad’s voice booms with pride. “I told you it was going to be a piece of cake!”
“That was wonderful, honey,” my mother says as she kisses me on the cheek. “You make us so very proud.”
“Thanks, Mom and Dad, but I didn’t win yet. They still have to visit a few more tables and who knows what they thought of everyone else. I’m not holding my breath.”
Cassie comes running over. “Did you see Piper’s project? The sunflower is practically dead! I don’t know what she’s trying to prove with hers, but she’s going to lose.” It’s no secret that Cassie doesn’t like Piper, but you have to give the girl credit for trying.
“Be nice,” I state, and Cassie giggles.
“You, on the other hand, definitely put in the work. You can light it up like a Christmas tree.”
She grabs my hand when she sees Mr. Fahey and the other judges deliberating in the corner. “This is it!” she squeals.
My father places his hands on my shoulders and squeezes. “We got this,” he says confidently.
HOURS LATER, I’M STANDING in front of my bedroom mirror, and I can’t wipe the smile from my face.
They were all right.
The First Prize blue ribbon is hanging on my bedroom mirror. I touch it and feel victory with every stroke.
“We’re so proud of you, Sam.” Mom’s voice is soft behind me.
I see my parents’ reflection in the mirror as they enter the room. Dad’s arm is draped around Mom’s waist.
“Thanks. I couldn’t have done it without you both.”
“That’s the first of many prizes for your hard work,” Dad says.
“Let’s go celebrate!” Mom grabs my hand and leads us both out the door.
As we head out to our favorite restaurant, my smile remains huge. I watch my parents hold hands in the front seat of the SUV, and I can feel their love all around me.
They make me so happy, and I never want this feeling to go away.
They’re everything to me.
Garrett
Past
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Age 18
“GARRETT, WE’RE SO PROUD OF YOU.” My mother’s face shines through the haze of the smoky bar.
“Son, we couldn’t be prouder,” Bill says, squeezing my shoulder.
Son.
It still feels weird and a little uncomfortable, but I called Bill ‘Dad’ accidentally a few weeks ago, and he’s been calling me ‘Son’ ever since. He’s a great guy and loves Mom so much. He’s given us both a wonderf
ul life and hasn’t ever looked down on the profession that I’ve chosen.
Of course, it wasn’t so easy the night that my mom found out that I hadn’t really gone to Rob Shultz’s house almost three years ago. She called Mrs. Shultz the second I walked out the door, confirming her immediate suspicions that I was lying to her. As soon as I got home, she grilled me about where I’d gone and why I felt like I couldn’t tell her the truth. So I stopped lying and told her everything.
I told her that I’d gone to find my father. She was crushed, like I had kicked her in the stomach. I told her that he hadn’t been there, and I had been strangely relieved. I honestly don’t know what I would have done if I’d seen him that day. The last time I saw him was when I was seven. That wasn’t a pleasant day, nor was it a great memory to have of your father who abandoned the only family he had. Mom told me it was for the best. I told her that the guys next door said he was in jail, and she nodded like she already knew that.
Who knows if he’s still in jail. I don’t really care. Even before he left us, my mother had taken over all of the parental responsibilities. She was both my mother and my father for so long. That is until Bill came along. He moved into our lives effortlessly.
I’m thankful for him and so happy that my mother ended up with the type of man she was meant to be with.
“Thanks,” I say to my parents as Bill gives me the best bro-hug he can imitate.
Tristan catches my eye, and he’s being followed by no less than a dozen girls. I smile and kiss my mom on the cheek. “Thanks for coming, but I—uh—I have to be somewhere.”
“Be careful, Garrett.” My mother looks disapprovingly toward Tristan and our first-ever groupies. “Those girls don’t look like they have your best interests in mind.”
Bill laughs out loud and squeezes my shoulder. “Claire, let him have fun. He’s a good kid.” He pats the back of my neck and pushes me toward Tristan. “Let’s go home.” He pulls my mother close and kisses her on the cheek.