by M. E. Carter
“I’ve noticed that, too. Kid’s a little too big for his britches with nothing to back it up. I can’t do anything about it now, and I’m not totally convinced Shivel isn’t just going through a rough patch. But I want us to keep an eye on him while we start grooming Flanigan. If Mack gets injured, or we have to yank him, we need the rookie ready to go.”
“Sounds good to me,” I say.
We discuss a few more players, watch a few more clips. It’s close to an hour before we’re done, and I’m walking back into the locker room, where my teammates are still hanging out. Most of them haven’t even showered yet.
“Why the hell is everyone still here?” I ask Christian, who’s sitting on the bench shirtless, drinking a beer.
“Oh, you didn’t hear yet, did you?” he asks, passing me a Shiner. I shake my head and pop the top. Normally, we wouldn’t be drinking in the locker room after practice, so I figured this was a celebration of some sort. “Kuttnauer is getting married.”
I raise my eyebrows. “No shit?”
“Yep. Seems everyone on our team is either getting hitched or having babies,” he says with a snicker. His statement seems pretty accurate after the summer we’ve had. Chris Kuttnauer is the third guy to pop the question in the last few months. And two teammates became first time dads during the off-season, with three more babies ready to be born during the season.
“Not everyone,” I say as I peel my now almost dry jersey over my head. “You planning on settling down anytime soon?”
He takes a swig of his beer. “I haven’t met anyone interesting lately, so it would be hard to do but I’m not opposed to it. What about you? Any of your lady friends caught your eye for more than just a one-nighter?”
“Hell, no.” I take another swig, peel the sweaty clothes off my lower body, and wrap a towel around my waist. “I have no interest in getting married at all.”
Christian looks surprised to hear that. “Are you kidding? With your giant Mexican family, I would have thought you’d be the first person to walk down the aisle and start making babies.”
“No way, but thanks for the stereotype.” I shake my head adamantly while he laughs. “You saw the shit my mama went through when dad left her. No way in hell I am going to get married just so I can abandon my family later on. I may be a dick, but I’d rather be a single dick.”
“Why the hell do you think you’d leave your family behind?” Christian asks, confused. “Not all marriages end. My parents are still happily married forty years later. They’re still all lovey-dovey.” He shivers in disgust. “It totally grosses me out.” I laugh. “But it also proves my point. Just because your parents had a rough go of it doesn’t mean you will.”
“Apparently you’ve forgotten about my sister.”
He sighs. “I haven’t forgotten about Blanca. I know she had a nasty divorce, too.”
“Look, I’m not saying marriage is bad,” I say, holding up my hands. “I think I’d be better off not risking it. I’m perfectly fine with the way things are. No one has expectations of a future. No one gets hurt. I can get laid whenever I want.” He rolls his eyes as I waggle my eyebrows up and down. “It works fine for everyone involved.”
“If you say so, man,” Christian says.
“And besides,” I add, “like you said, I have a huge family. I have more than enough people to dote on without dealing with all the bullshit that comes from relationships.”
Chris Kuttnauer walks by, showered and dressed to the nines. “You guys coming with us to celebrate?”
“Maybe,” I say. “By the way, congratulations.”
He beams at me. “Thanks, man. Michelle is a such a great girl. I can’t believe she actually agreed to marry me.” He starts to walk away. “Meet us at Morty’s in half an hour if you’re interested.”
“Will do.” I look at Christian. “See that right there? That look of excitement? It fades, man. I don’t want any part of the decline.”
Christian doesn’t say anything as I stroll toward the showers. He knows I’m right.
“Thanks for helping me clean out the apartment,” I say to Geni as I tape up the final box. For the last few days, we’ve spent all our free time at Sarah’s place.
Once I tracked down the building manager and provided proof that Sarah had died, he gave us a full thirty days to clean it out. We didn’t need thirty days to do it. There wasn’t much.
We had taken all the baby stuff before the funeral because I obviously needed to get Chance set up as soon as possible. A small crib, a swing, some clothes. It all looked secondhand, but it was clean and in good condition.
The apartment was in a decent location. It was small but well maintained. There was healthy food in the fridge. The lack of bottles leads me to believe she was exclusively breast feeding, explaining one reason why he cries so much. She even had a few pictures of her and Chance in cute frames around the apartment. I made sure those came with us before anything else.
I was really proud of my sister for what she had accomplished for her and the baby. I only wished she was here so I could tell her so. The guilt is still crushing when I think about how I should have told her that when she was alive. I’m not sure I will ever get over it. No matter what, I will make sure Chance knows who his mother was and how proud of him she would be.
“You know I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” Geni says as she unplugs a small lamp and wraps the cord around the base. “I know this isn’t easy for you.”
I sigh, stacking the box on top of another one by the door. “It’s not,” I admit as I walk over to the small couch and plop myself down for a much needed break. I concentrate on keeping down the lump in my throat. “I miss my sister.” The words barely come out a whisper. I can’t even look at Geni as I try not to cry again. I’m tired of crying. It’s time to move forward. But I don’t want to leave her behind either. It’s a hard place to be.
In true Geni fashion, she stops what she’s doing and plops down next to me, picking up my hand. “I know, baby cakes. You’re never going to not miss her.”
I smile because that’s all she says. And I smile because that’s all she needs to say. Geni has this uncommon way of validating feelings without sugar-coating anything, all while comforting me when I need it most. I’ve seen her do it with coworkers when they’ve gone through difficult times and it’s always amazed me how she does it. It’s probably because she genuinely cares about people.
We are sitting there, lost in our thoughts, her stroking my hand gently, when there is a hard knock at the door.
“I guess it’s time for a pickup,” she says and walks to the front door. I take one last look around, silently telling my sister goodbye. I never saw her in this apartment, but it doesn’t make it any easier to sell the last of her belongings, even if it is for Chance’s care.
“Hey, I’m here to pick up the couch,” a deep voice says behind me.
“Come on in,” Geni says, and I stand. “Did you ever decide about the microwave?” she asks him and his buddy as they enter the tiny living room.
The twenty-something-year-old guys saunter over, nodding at me in greeting. Pretty much everyone who bought something from the estate knew why we were selling everything, and it seems they were trying to be respectful of me. Only one of them asked where Chance had ended up. It was the old woman who lived next door. I was grateful someone was worried about the baby. That made me feel like they were both cared for in my absence. And seeing how she was also chatty, I was sure everyone else in the building knew very quickly I had custody of Sarah’s baby.
“Yeah, I want it. You said twenty, right?” one of them asks. She nods. “Done.” He slaps a twenty-dollar bill in her hand and picks up the microwave off the counter, putting it on the couch they are about to pick up.
The first twenty-something, who is apparently the couch’s new owner, looks at the boxes by the door. “Do you need help carrying those to your car or anything?” He turns to look at me. “I don’t mind at all. You’re actually d
oing me a favor by selling me a good couch for cheap.”
I smile at him, hoping to convey my appreciation. “Thanks, but they really aren’t heavy. I’m sure we’ll be fine.”
He nods again. “Okay. Well, if you need anything before you’re out, I live downstairs, so let me know.”
It takes him and his buddy a few minutes to maneuver the coach out the door and down the stairs, almost toppling the microwave off a few times. It actually gives me some much needed comic relief, especially when Geni starts yelling “Pivot!” channeling the sentiments of one of our favorite episodes of Friends. Once the show is over, Geni and I clean up a few last minute messes and pack up the cleaning supplies. As she takes the final box down to my car, I lock the door behind me.
I miss Sarah. I will always miss Sarah. But it’s time to move on.
“So how’s it going with the baby?”
Laurie, our caseworker from the Department of Family and Protective Services, sits with me on the couch in my apartment. Her kind smile is non-threatening. I like her. I feel like she has our best interests at heart. She’s visited with us a couple of times over the last month, and I always enjoy talking with her.
While I had been granted emergency custody of Chance the night of the accident, there is still a long road ahead of us. In order to obtain permanent custody or adopt, the state still has to do a complete home study, I have to take some parenting classes, and a few other things have to be processed to get through the red tape.
They’re still looking for Chance’s biological father, because the law requires it, but Laurie assured me they weren’t having any more luck than I was. That will make the entire process a lot faster since I’m Chance’s only blood relative, which I am grateful for. Laurie is a really nice woman and seems to really want to help us, but being held accountable to anyone for things happening in your home gets daunting really quickly.
I take a deep breath. “It’s still hard,” I respond. “Do babies grieve?”
She crinkles her eyebrows and cocks her head at me. “Still having a problem with the crying?”
I nod. “I’ve tried gripe water for his tummy and laying him on his stomach, rocking him, talking to him, even turning on cartoons. You name it, I’ve tried it.” I shake my head in exasperation. “When he’s sleeping, he’s fine. You hear him now,” I say, waving at the swing where he is snoring softly. “And when he wakes up, he’s happy, even when I talk to him from across the room. But it’s like as soon as he sees my face, he realizes I’m not her, and he starts crying again.”
“Wow,” she says. “It does sound like he’s misses her.”
“It’s the craziest thing. I’m not trying to replace her. She will always be his mom. I just wish I could help him.”
“It honestly sounds really normal.”
“How is this normal?”
“Think of it from his perspective for a second,” she says, putting her notebook and pen aside. “He spent nine months living inside Sarah’s body, right up underneath her heartbeat. Then for the first two months after he was born, she was with him at all hours of the day. She provided for all his needs. From what we can gather, she was breastfeeding exclusively, too, right?” I nod, trying to put myself in his shoes. “Now the person that was his safety and comfort is completely gone, ripped away from him. You live in a different place, you probably use different perfume and laundry detergent. You even use bottles. So his tiny little self is having to get used to Sarah being gone, all while he’s getting used to different smells and sounds.”
“And I probably sound like her, but it confuses him because I’m not her.”
Laurie nods.
“That makes me want to cry, too.”
Laurie pats my leg. “Keep doing what you’re doing, Quincy. Sarah is irreplaceable as your sister, but to a certain degree, you are having to replace her as his mom.”
She’s telling me the hard truth but that’s exactly what it is. Hard truth. I can’t be his aunt, his friend, his guardian. If I’m going to give him the emotional stability he needs, I have to find a way to be okay with being his mom. Sarah would want it that way.
“Tell me about his day care,” she says, switching topics. “Did it work out with your friend’s sister for weekends?”
We chat a little while longer about how Monica is watching Chance while I work and how much money the sale of Sarah’s things brought. Laurie reports this is proving to be an open and shut case, so far. The only thing I really need to worry about is asking for permanent managing conservatorship or adoption.
The difference? If I adopt, Sarah’s name will be removed from Chance’s birth certificate and mine will be put on it instead. I know we talked about me being his mother, but this still gives me pause. Laurie reassures me it’s not a decision I have to make now.
By the time he wakes up from his nap, Laurie has enough information to tell her supervisor and the court everything is running smoothly here. Well, as smoothly as it can with a newborn.
I no more than shut the door after walking Laurie out when Chance starts crying again.
“Hey, little man,” I call as I measure the formula for his bottle. I have learned he cries less if I can put a bottle in his mouth as soon as I pick him up. “You had a good long nap, didn’t you? Do you feel better?”
When he sees me walking toward him, he calms… until I appear in his line of sight. Then the tears start again. I unbuckle him and cradle him in my arms, kissing his wet cheeks and starting his feeding immediately.
As I predicted, as soon as he starts eating, he stops crying.
I sit down on the couch, feet tucked under me, and talk to him while he eats, rubbing my hands over his head and down his nose, over his eyebrows, and around his ears, telling him about everything from Laurie’s visit to the trinkets Geni and I brought over from the apartment.
He eats a couple of ounces and pushes the bottle away with his tongue. And then the most wonderful thing happens. He looks up at me, and coos.
I smile at him. “Well, hey there,” I say gently, enjoying the first time I’ve held him when he wasn’t crying or sleeping. “Are you full now? You feel better?”
He coos again.
My eyes fill with happy tears, and I kiss his sweet face and nuzzle him to me. “I’m your Aunt Quincy,” I tell him, looking him in the eyes. “But I’m gonna have to be your other mommy now, okay? Sarah will always be your mommy. I’m just gonna take care of you while she watches us from heaven, okay?”
He gurgles at me, and I finally see the draw of motherhood. It’s hard, but these little moments make it worth it. I can do this. We’re going to be fine.
I hate shopping on Saturday nights but once again I’m the dumb-ass who didn’t plan ahead. I should hire a maid or someone to do my shopping for me.
With my baseball cap pulled low over my eyes, I wander around the store, swinging through the grocery aisles before making my way over to toiletries. I can hear what sounds like a baby giggling. It makes me smile and reminds me
I really need to call my sister, Blanca, in the morning. I haven’t checked on her since she got married a few weeks ago, and I want to see how Aaron is doing as a new stepdad. He’s a great guy, but she was adamant they wouldn’t live together until after they were married. Something about the kids getting too attached before things were finalized.
I get it. She had a really rough divorce from a total douchebag, who left her and the kids high and dry. They don’t need to get their hearts broken again.
I glance down the aisle as I pass by the baby items and barely register a woman with a giggling baby in a carrier strapped to her chest. But then it hits me.
I stop and back up because she looks familiar, yet she looks totally different than the last time I saw her.
She blows a raspberry on the baby’s cheek, making him laugh a hearty baby laugh.
Smiling, I swivel my cart down the aisle and walk toward them. “Hey,” I say. “Quincy, right?”
She looks plea
santly surprised to see me and even more surprised I remember her name. I actually surprise myself with that one.
“Yeah. Um….” She gets a look on her face like she’s trying to remember my name. I kind of like that she has no idea who I am.
“Daniel,” I say, giving her a reprieve from any embarrassment.
“I’m sorry. I’m terrible with names,” she says with a smile, bouncing the baby and patting his butt. She looks so much more comfortable with him than the first time we met. And she has a shopping cart.
“Don’t worry about my name. I’m happy you remember meeting me. I wouldn’t want you to think I’m a stalker or something.”
I’m not sure how I missed it before—probably because she was in such a bad place last time we met—but she really is beautiful. Long blonde hair pulled up in one of those messy buns, little wisps of hair falling around her face, hazel eyes that light up when she smiles. And that smile… that smile is killer.
“Of course I remember you,” she says, breaking out into that smile again. “How could I forget the man that literally saved Baby Chance from starving to death?”
I scoff. “I wouldn’t go that far. Maybe just from dehydration,” I chide.
She grins and runs her hand down Chance’s head. “Well, whatever it was, you helped us out that night. So thank you.”
I glance into her shopping cart, seeing a bunch of groceries and toiletries items randomly thrown about. “You look much more comfortable with him than the last time we ran into each other here.”
“It was a rough couple of months but I think we’re finally getting in a good groove.” She looks down at the baby and coos at him. “Aren’t we? Getting in good groove, huh?” He smiles up at her.
“So you guys just make a habit of shopping at night?”
She kisses him on the forehead and looks up at me. “He seems to be a night owl, so it seems to work better for me to sleep when he does, right after work, and do errands like this in the middle of the night,” she says dismissively. “It’s not ideal, but it works for now. What about you? Why are you shopping so late?”
