by Andrea Smith
“So that’s all there was to it?” Olivia asked, getting Emmie’s knit hat from the chair in the examining room.
“Yep,” I said, not enjoying the topic, “Just a cheek swab from each of us. As usual, Stacie lied about having to wait until the baby was at least two months old for her Medicaid to cover it.”
“Of course,” Olivia replied, putting the knit hat on the baby, “So, what else is new?”
I handed Emmie over to Olivia who still had her coat on so that I could get my jacket on. “This test won’t hold up in court,” I said, “Those tests are six, seven hundred dollars. I told the doctor I wasn’t planning any court action.”
I watched to see Olivia’s reaction. I needed to know when it was all said and done, just how she would feel if she knew that regardless of the test results, Emmie was in my life to stay. I was, after all, named as the father on her birth certificate. At the very least, I had the right to shared custody. But hopefully, I would get sole custody. I guess I needed to know if Olivia was in it for the long haul if that was where our relationship was headed. Better to know now rather than later, I’d decided.
“Oh?” she replied, “Well, can I be honest Emmett?”
I felt myself tense up, but honesty was exactly what I’d wanted. “Sure.”
She was cradling Emmie now, who had calmed down and was busily sucking on her ‘Bop,’ the name we’d given her pacifier. “I don’t care what any DNA says, Emmett. She is your daughter, and she belongs with you. I know that our relationship is fresh, and I get that it might not be a forever thing, okay? But as long as we are together, I want to be a part of her life as well.”
I breathed a sigh of relief, but also, I was a little bit confused. “Babe,” I said, “we’re not rushing into anything, I get that. I don’t want to rush things, but you’ve got to know that I love you.”
Her head snapped up immediately from where she’d been focusing on Emmie. “You’ve never told me that before, Emmett,” she replied softly. “I mean, I love you, too, but hell, I wasn’t going to jinx anything by saying it first.”
I immediately broke into a wide grin, and chuckled. “We’re both a piece of work, aren’t we?” I asked, shaking my head. “Here I was thinking you must’ve known by the… well, by the way I’m always loving on you. And me? The dumbass that I apparently am thought maybe you weren’t there yet, and that I shouldn’t rush feelings you might not have.”
Olivia started to giggle, and then we both went into full-blown laughter. “You know,” she finally said, wiping her eyes, “you and I need to communicate more verbally instead of depending on our private parts to send the message.”
“I agree,” I replied, opening the door of the exam room so that we could head out. “Although I think there’s something to be said for dual means of communication.”
“Won’t argue with that,” she replied, taking my free arm as we left the building. “When will you have the results?” she asked.
“In a week or so,” I replied.
“Emmett, however it works out, it’s just between us, because babe, I’m in it for the long haul.”
Once we got back to the trailer and got Emmie out of her winter gear, Olivia gave her a bottle while I called Coop to get the update on the album release, and the venues we had scheduled for the band between now and Christmas.
“Sounds good,” I said. “Keep me posted, bro.”
As I turned to let Olivia know the latest, she put her index finger up to her lips to quiet me. The baby was sleeping and she handed her gently over to me, so that I could put her in her crib. Emmie officially had her own room in the one that Stacie had vacated. Katie had given me Andrew’s old crib, along with sheets and some plush toys to put in it.
I lay her gently down on her back, and pulled a blanket up to cover her. She looked so sweet, so innocent and her hair was starting to come in different. It was a blondish color, like mine. I’d asked her pediatrician about it, concerned because she’d lost the hair she was born with in clumps, and he’d told me it was perfectly normal.
“The hair babies are born with is not their permanent hair,” he explained. “Some lose it in clumps and the new hair grows in, others simply lose it gradually and it’s not as noticeable because the new hair is growing in at the same time. Still other babies are born bald or with just a little peach fuzz until their permanent hair grows in. I assure you, Mr. Jackson, it’s nothing to be concerned about.”
The doctor told me that Emmie’s growth and weight were coming along fine, and her cognitive skills were right on schedule. She could roll over, respond to our voices, make cooing sounds, and clutch things in her little hands. She occasionally sucked her thumb, and he’d encouraged the pacifier instead, saying it would be easier to wean away, and wouldn’t cause her thumb to be misshapen.
As I left the nursery, closing the door softly behind me, I heard Olivia on her phone. “That’s fantastic,” she said, “Can we close before Christmas?”
We got the house!
“Yes, I’m thrilled,” she continued. “I’ll let Emmett know.”
The call ended and Olivia turned to look at me. “We got the house!” she said excitedly. “We’ll be in our home by Christmas.”
Chapter 33
Olivia
A week had gone by, and Emmett and I’d been busy packing up stuff and getting rid of shit. We weren’t taking crappy furniture into our new home. His furniture was nice, but dated. I had decided the house would have a beach theme.
Emmett came through the front door, and I gave him the “Quiet - Baby Asleep” signal we’d come to devise. But the look on his face as he laid a stack of mail down on the counter said it all.
“It’s here?” I asked, “The results… of the DNA test?”
He nodded, and picked up the sealed envelope and tossed it over to me. “You look, I can’t,” was all he said.
I turned the envelope over and saw the name of the lab on the upper left corner. I slid my fingernail along the back flap, and felt my fingers shaking as I pulled out the folded paper which would define our lives going forward. I unfolded the letter, and quickly skimmed down the page wanting to cut to the chase so we could digest whatever the outcome was going to be.
Emmett’s breathing was rapid, and I swore I could hear his heart beating… or was it mine? The paper was vibrating from my shaky hands. Though there was a chart… or graph, I had no idea what it meant. The first column said baby, the second column said alleged father. I assumed it would have at least had their names on it. My eyes landed on the paragraph underneath the chart.
“Read it out loud, Olivia,” Emmett said, his arms crossed on his chest. He was bracing himself and I felt the air leaving my lungs as if I’d just ran a marathon.
I took a deep breath and began. “The alleged father is excluded as the biological father of the tested child. Based on testing results obtained for analysis of the DNA loci listed, the probability of paternity is 0%.”
His hands went into his hair, and he fell to his knees. I threw the paper down and went to him. “Babe, it’s just a piece of paper. She is your daughter. She knows nothing else.”
“What the fuck! What am I going to do, Olivia?”
He was so broken, and I was right there with him. Tears rolled down my cheeks, but his tears crushed me even more. I held him and we rocked back and forth on the kitchen floor. This one defining moment changed our whole world.
“She’s almost three months old, Olivia. And somehow that baby has wormed her way into my heart. I love her. Yes, I was pissed when I found out at first, and I can’t count the times I hoped like hell she wasn’t mine. But now…” He trailed off, his head looking up to the ceiling. I watched a tear run down his cheek and I wiped it away with my thumb.
I held his face in my face. “You listen to me, babe. Emmie is yours… and mine. Stacie has no idea we had the DNA test done, and you know she was never going to get around to
it. Let’s just go on with our life. You, me, and… our daughter.”
“Oh, Olivia,” he said, his voice choked with emotion, “she totally feels like mine. We’ll just have to wait and see what happens when Stacie gets out. You know damn well, she’s gonna show up.”
“Hey,” I said, “we will deal with that when the time comes.” I kissed his damp cheek.
Emmett cupped my face in his hands, and kissed my mouth with pent up passion. He drew back, “Thank you for being in my life. I love you,” he said, and those three little words were music to my heart. This was real, our love was the best thing in our lives, and I knew we had enough for Emmie. We would never let her go.
“Olivia, let’s buy our dream house, give Emmie the best Baby’s First Christmas ever, and destroy that letter.”
“You got it, babe.”
“Okay, you two, smile and raise your glasses,” Katie said, taking our picture as we toasted to our new house.
I was amazed at how fast the band’s fan club was growing. Katie documented everything we did. Our number of followers had sky-rocketed with the release of our debut album, simply titled, “Illusions.” The cover totally rocked.
Now we had real fans, because we were real people, Katie would post the craziest stuff.
People loved just the simple stuff we did. Dumb shit at practice, and long days in the recording studio. They especially loved the ones of Ace and Emmett when they were holding their babies. People loved hot rock star dads, and Wasted had two of them.
My favorite post was of Emmett asleep in a chair, with Emmie asleep on his bare chest. It rocked, and the post got over a thousand reactions. Though, some of the comments pissed me off.
“Oh, Emmett, I want to have your baby.”
“You can rock my vajayjay anytime.”
And the one I hated the most—I finger myself every night to this picture, Emmett.
“Okay, it’s posted. And… OMG, it already has likes,” Katie said, and we both high-fived each other.
There was a private message on my Facebook.
Janet Miller wants to connect with you.
I didn’t know any Janet Miller. Maybe she was someone who followed the band, but why would she want to connect with only me?
“Hey, Katie, did you get a private message on your messenger from a Janet Miller, wanting to connect?”
“Let me check,” she said and pulled her phone out from her jean’s pocket. “Hmm,” she hummed as she scrolled through. “No, I didn’t. Why?”
“I just received a message on my messenger, saying she wants to connect.”
“Well, can you pull up her account on Facebook and check her out?”
“Let me look,” I replied, and tapped her picture. It brought up her Facebook profile, and I could see her picture clearer. She was young, looked to be the same age as me. I scrolled through and saw our only connection was the Wasted fan page.
“What’d ya find?” Emmett said, walking over with Emmie on his hip.
“Not much. She’s a member on the band’s fan page. That’s about all. Nothing about her looks familiar.”
“Probably some girl who wants you to hear her song or something,” Emmett said.
“Yeah, maybe. Should I connect and see what she wants?”
Emmett shrugged. “Might as well get used to crazy fans. You can always block her later… if she becomes a crazy, crazy fan.”
“Maybe she’s a lesbian,” Ace piped in. He and Emmett began laughing. “Hey, we dudes get our moment with crazy girls. Maybe Liv has one now.”
“Yeah, but why can’t it be some hot guy drooling all over me, as the girls do with you guys?” I mumbled.
“Because I would kick his ass,” Emmett teased. “But, you with another girl… hmm.”
I elbowed him in the ribs.
“Hey, just kidding,” he said laughing, and giving my butt a swat. “But sure, I would see what this girl wants.”
I couldn’t see what the harm would be and connected. Just as I did, a message pinged in from this Janet.
Hi, Olivia. Let me start first with how much I’m enjoying your band. I’m sure Wasted is going to be a huge success. I saw the post on the band’s page of you and your mother. So, I hope I have the right Olivia Harris. Please respond if you are the Olivia Harris from Wasted. There is something important I need to share with you.
I didn’t read it out loud, but I was still curious and responded.
Yes, I’m Olivia Harris from Wasted.
Her message came back immediately.
Thank you. I was hoping you’d connect. I don’t know how to say this, but I think you are my step-sister.
I then knew she must have had me confused with someone else. Mom was never married, and how would she know who my father was? I’m sure I probably had half-siblings, from Zak’s swinging dick. Since the DNA test of Emmie, I thought about doing a 23-And-Me, just to find out if someone was looking for the same, but this was weird.
What makes you think we are step-sisters? My mom was never married, and I don’t know my father.
Have you ever heard of Carl Mason?
Mason! Mom called me Olivia Mason once. Shit was getting weird.
No, I haven’t ever heard of a Carl Mason.
He was married to my mother.
Was?
I think he was your father. He passed away a year ago. I found this picture when my mother and I were cleaning out his things.
Just then, the same picture I had posted on the band’s fan page came through. It was Mom with her guitar on the park bench.
“What the fuck?” I said, and covered my mouth.
My fingers trembled as I tapped out my next message.
Are you sure about this? I never knew my father. But I do know his name is or was Zak.
It’s a long story, Olivia. Can we meet?
“Guys, this chick wants to meet with me,” I said. “She thinks she knows my father. Look at this shit. She has the same picture.”
Emmett grabbed my phone. “Babe, she probably took a screenshot of your photo and sent it back. It proves nothing. She’s fucking with you.”
“Yeah, maybe. But she said something else. Something I never brought up, because Mom was always saying things that made no sense, she called me Olivia Mason one day.”
“Yeah, what of it?” Emmett asked, looking closely at the picture.
“This Janet chick said my father’s name was Carl Mason. What if there is something there? She couldn’t know that.”
Emmett shrugged. “I don’t know. Ask if she has any more proof. That picture proves nothing.”
I glanced back at my phone and sent her another message.
I’m sorry, I need more proof. Is there anything else you can tell me?
Again, more pictures were coming in, and I could see her fingertips holding the pictures. Snapshots of my mother with this man when she was pregnant. It was my mother.
Where can I find you? I messaged back.
I’m in Michigan.
“Guys, I need to meet with this girl.”
“Like hell you do,” Emmett said, getting all bossy with me. “You don’t even know if she’s really a girl. It could be some stalker dude posing. You need to use your head here, Olivia.”
And truthfully? I didn’t care for the way he was chastising me as if I were a child or a teenager for fuck’s sake. Emmett Jackson loved me, of that I was sure, but he needed to know that loving wasn’t synonymous with controlling.
No worries. He’d find out soon enough how Olivia rolled.
Chapter 34
Emmett
I watched as Olivia’s face turned a whiter shade of pale, and yes I totally stole that description from the classic Procol Harem tune, which was an epic, brilliant classic.
As she unraveled these messages and the ph
otos that accompanied them from some purported step-sister that had come through on her personal Facebook profile, I could see she was falling hook, line and sinker for it.
Hell, it might be true, but I sure as fuck didn’t want her trotting off to someplace in Michigan to meet somebody who could be legitimate, or might be a serial killer who stalked rocker chicks. I had to put my foot down.
“Like hell you do,” I’d told her firmly when she blurted out that she needed to meet this person.
I knew by the way she’d gotten all quiet and sullen-acting after I’d said that in front of the rest of the guys I’d be hearing more about it later.
And fuck if I didn’t.
“You know, Emmett,” she said once we were home, and I was putting Emmie down for the night, “you aren’t my Lord and master, here. If I want to take a trip to Michigan to check out what this… this Janet knows, I damn well will do it. I don’t need your permission,” she snapped, crossing her arms in front of her and tapping her foot on the floor.
“Shhh,” I hushed her quietly. “Can we talk about this out in the living room? I don’t want Emmie to think we’re fighting babe,” I said to her quietly.
Did I know my girl or what?
Once we were out in our new spacious living room, I pulled her down onto my lap where I was now sitting on the brand-new emerald green sectional sofa we’d purchased for it.
“Look at the Christmas tree, babe,” I continued, nodding toward the other side of the room, where the beautiful Douglas Fir tree we’d selected together stood. We’d both decorated it with white twinkle lights and emerald green ornaments. It was damn near ten feet tall. It was situated right next to the wall-mounted, flat screen television, also new. I felt so proud that she and I had made this home together. And yeah, sue me that I worried about her, but that was what love did to guys.
“It’s not that I’m trying to order you around, sweetie,” I continued, “but in two days it’s Christmas. Emmie’s first Christmas, and our first Christmas, together. Can you please just delay making any personal contact with this person, this Janet, until after the holidays? We’ll go together, okay?”