by Kata Čuić
“And you are still my hopes and dreams and goals.”
Daddy and I glance up to find Jesse standing inside the front door, his head held high, his shoulders squared.
He nods once, decisive. “It’s time, Mr. Wheeler. Give me her hand. I swear to cherish and protect them.”
“No!” I leap off the couch, propelled by a force I haven’t felt so strongly in years. “You will not!”
Jesse’s expression never wavers, but he raises his hands. “Darlin’, we can hash this out ‘til the sun comes up if that’s what it takes ‘cause I ain’t gonna wait another five years to make things right between us, but you’re gonna wake Anne.”
“Daddy?” An angelic vision with red curls and a white nightgown rubs her eye with a little fist.
Mama glances around at the various expressions in the room, her arms crossed over her chest. “What’s all the ruckus?”
Jesse crouches down and puts his arms out for Anne to run into and climb up his chest like a squirrel. He runs a big hand down her hair as she burrows into the crook of his neck. “It’s all right, little darlin’. I’m sorry we woke ya.”
The sight of them together kills me. There’s so much love between the two, thicker than thieves after only a few months’ time. I can’t take back the past; I can’t change the present, and I don’t see how the future holds anything but heartbreak.
Daddy rises with a deep sigh. “They know.”
Mama eyes Jesse like she’s studying a new quilt pattern. “Ya fixin’ to claim her?”
Jesse eyes flash with indignation. “I never denied her. I love her. I’ve always loved her.”
Awareness washes over Mama’s face. She glances at me in silent question, and I nod, bent over in anguish. Her face looks harder than I’ve ever seen it. “Leland, what did ya do?”
“I…” He rubs the back of his neck before raising his chin. “I took a trip to Marshall.”
She gasps in horror. “Ya had no damn right!”
Jesse steps forward, Anne still bundled in his arms. “He had every right. He’s her daughter. She’s mine. It’s our duty to look out for our children.”
A silent wail of mourning begs to escape my chest, but I wipe my face and rise, reaching for my baby who looks on the edge of bursting into tears.
She abandons Jesse more easily than I expect. Her sweet voice is a whisper of love against my cheek. “Did Daddy make you cry?”
I squeeze her tight, inhaling the scent of baby shampoo clinging to her fine locks. “No, baby. I’m only bein’ a spoiled girl. I done found out I ain’t gettin’ what I want for Christmas after all.”
Even half-asleep and bewildered as all get out, that bullshit meter operates at full capacity. She scrambles out of my arms, runs right over to Jesse, and kicks him in the shin. “You’re bad, and I hate you!”
Jesse claps a hand over his mouth and swallows thickly as tears spring into his eyes.
I made this mess, so it’s up to me to glue together the broken pieces as best as I can. I haul her away, still kicking and raging. She whimpers in my lap as I stroke her hair. “Baby, your daddy loves you. He’s always going to love you. Mommy will always love you, too. It’s not nice to be so hateful to people who love you.”
With strong arms that have born my sadness more times than I can count, Mama bundles us both up and leads us toward the bedrooms. “Come on, girls. It’s awful late. Let’s go to bed and leave the grown-ups to their games.”
Anne’s still crying on my shoulder when Daddy’s rough voice cuts through her pain.
“Still waters run deep. Mind my words and wait it out.”
“No,” Jesse returns, his voice strong. “We done tried it your way. Now we’re gonna do it mine.”
Five Years Ago
A rough slap to my shoulder jars me out of my ponderin’. “I don’t right know what’s eatin’ at ya these days, but ya gotta shake it off. Come to the bar with us tonight and tie one on. Two-dollar pitchers’ll solve all your problems.”
I doubt that very much.
I reckon I ain’t seen the worst of it yet if the man sittin’ on a bench outside my frat house is any indication. “I’ll think about it,” I lie to Tripp.
The way Mr. Wheeler’s watchin’ me makes me surer than ever I’m gonna be drinkin’ myself to death later. I’m shakin’ in my boots to hear it from his tongue, but I gotta know if I’m gonna make new plans.
He squints against the sunlight as he stares up at me, silent as the trees before a big storm.
“Where is she?”
He don’t say a word.
“She ain’t answerin’ my calls. She ain’t respondin’ to my emails.” I stop up my blabberin’ and watch him as close as he’s doin’ to me. His shoulders are bent from more than a lifetime of hard work. New lines etch the frame of his tightly set mouth. His eyes are hard and unforgivin’. Can he see the fear shakin’ my limbs like a mighty wind? Surely not. Or, he’d tell me what I’m dyin’ to know. “Mr. Wheeler, with all due respect, I don’t think ya understand what I’m askin’ ya. I love your daughter. I’m fixin’ to ask for her hand. I’ll build her a big house. I’ll earn a good livin’ for our family. I’ll do everythin’ in my power to see to their every need and want. And if you’re here to tell me…”
I can’t say it. My mind already knows my grand plans are for nothin’, but I can’t be the one to say it.
She’s gone.
He hands me a small square of glossy paper without a word.
Lenore Wheeler, Northwestern Memorial Hospital, February 3rd, I read.
That don’t make no sense. She was mad as hell when she went back to Chicago after the holiday break, but her anger burns out faster than a gasoline fire when the fuel’s all used up. She ain’t capable of carryin’ a grudge this long. Lenore Euphemia Wheeler loves me. She wants me. I made a mighty mistake that night, but I done made plenty of ‘em, and she ain’t never held it against me before. She loves me even though I’m as far from perfect as a man can get.
My mind flies through the thoughts that have been plaguin’ me for weeks. Car accident, big city shooting, sickness.
I stare at the little square.
Cancer.
That ain’t right neither. She was so damn beautiful and healthy the last time I kissed her lips and held her body tight to mine. Her bones weren’t frail, her skin wasn’t sallow, her emerald eyes held all the shine that’s been lightin’ up my world for years.
“A baby.”
All the breath that’s been stuck in my chest balloons out as I laugh at my dumb hillbilly self. If I’d paid more attention in my child development class, I coulda spared myself a few more minutes of misery.
This is an ultrasound.
I suck in deep lungfuls of the air that’s been kept from me and laugh my damn head off. Relief cackles on the early spring breeze.
Tripp and Lyle are nearby, watchin’ over me like the kinda friends who knew trouble was brewin’ with a man they ain’t never seen before on campus.
I reckon it’s time to send ‘em on their way, so they won’t be late for class. I wave the picture at ‘em. “She’s havin’ my baby!”
Lyle shakes his head and stalks away.
Tripp rolls his eyes and calls back, “Only you would be so excited to knock up your imaginary girlfriend!”
She ain’t imaginary, and she ain’t gone.
I laugh harder.
“Lenore Euphemia Wheeler is havin’ my baby!” I shout. I gotta hear it in my own ears to be sure it’s true. History is a painful teacher, and my life just ain’t this good.
I suck in another drink of air. “A baby. We’re havin’ a baby.”
“Lover boy!” Tripp calls, still waitin’ on me. “Let’s go!” He taps his watch. “Time for class!”
Time for class. Ya knocked up your girlfriend.
She’s done made me forget for a long while, but reality’s always waitin’ behind every corner to steal any scrap of joy. My legs give out, and my body falls
onto the bench beside Mr. Wheeler as the ramifications of my actions catch up with me.
He’s still watchin’ me like I’m in the crosshairs. I don’t blame him.
Nora never wanted to be in the position of her mama and daddy, and now she is.
“I’ll fix it,” I promise. “I meant what I said. I love her. Lemme go pack up, and I’ll drive to Chicago. We’ll figure somethin’ out.”
“I ain’t supposed to be here,” he finally croaks out.
“Well…” I blow out a nervous breath. This is her daddy I’m talkin’ to, and I done knocked up his only daughter. If I’m gonna live long enough to kiss my woman and hold my baby, I better step careful. “I reckon I’d have liked to hear it from her first, but I understand, sir.”
He shakes his head slowly. “I don’t think ya do, Jesse.”
Lenore Euphemia Wheeler loves me, and she’s havin’ my baby. Now seems a might bad time to die.
I face him directly and look him in the eye as his position demands. “I been workin’ a good bit between classes, and I got a little saved up. I’ll drive to Chicago and make an honest woman out of her if you’ll give me her hand. I’ll work to support our family, so she can finish school—”
He cuts me off before I can even come up with a full plan. “She ain’t quittin’ school.”
“Good. That’s real good. She’s too smart to quit.” It’s not as much relief as knowin’ she’s alive, but it’s enough. Tough times are ahead, but we’ve weathered worse. “And she shouldn’t have to. This is my responsibility, and I’m ownin’ up to it. She ain’t just some woman to me. She’s the woman for me. Give me your blessing to do right by her. I love her more than anythin’.”
He closes his eyes. His voice is gruff. “She loves ya, too.”
I jump up from my seat, my mind already racin’. I gotta pack up my room, withdraw at the registrar’s office, gas up my truck…
Mr. Wheeler opens his eyes. “She don’t want ya.”
All my plans fall away, and I sit my sorry ass back down like he done pulled the rug out from under me. “She’s mad. I get it. I done messed up, but I love her, and she loves me. We’ll work it out. That’s our baby, and—”
“That’s my baby,” he grits out, his fists clenchin’ on his thighs like he’s fixin’ to strangle me. “And if ya go to her, she’ll run. Ya done took her innocence. I ain’t gonna let ya take her away from me fully.”
“What?” The simple question echoes in my ears, same as Nora’s to me that night.
“That’s why I ain’t supposed to be here,” he says, his voice more tired than I’ve ever heard it. “She done told us if ya ever found out, she’d terminate the pregnancy or run away.”
The magnitude of what he’s sayin’ punches me square in the gut, harder than Kenny Lawson ever did.
“But…She can’t do it alone. She shouldn’t have to. I wanna be there! I love her!”
Mr. Wheeler rises with a deep breath. He looks down on me like he knows exactly how I’ve gotten too big for my britches up here in Huntington where no one associates anythin’ with my name. “If ya love her as much as ya claim, then mind my words, son. Still waters run deep. Stay the course and keep your distance.”
He turns to leave, but I grab his wrist, forgettin’ my place and any shred of pride I done ever had. “If she don’t want me no more, then why’d ya tell me at all?”
He pulls his lips between his teeth then lets out a rush of air that turns his belly concave. “She wants ya, all right. She wants ya to have everythin’ ya ever dreamed of. She don’t wanna drag ya down with her.” He shakes loose my grip and leans down, gettin’ in my face and starin’ deep into my eyes. If he’s lookin’ for the truth, then it’s on my sleeve. “Ya wanna be a real man? Now’s your chance. I’m here ‘cause I love my daughter more than my own life, and I’d do anythin’ to make her happy. She feels that same pure love for ya, and maybe ya feel it for her and your baby, too. Time will tell. Bein’ a real man is pain, and it’s sacrifice, and it’s puttin’ your pride away to do right by the ones ya love. Ya prove to me ya got all them qualities, and I’ll keep ya in the loop. If ya don’t, then I’ll cut ya down. Choice is yours.”
He walks away, not giving me much choice at all.
Don’t Count Your Chickens Before They Hatch
I’ve never been summoned to the principal’s office before. Jesse, on the other hand, sat in this very same chair plenty of times.
I glance at the old clock mounted on the wall. My planning period is almost over. I’ve been waiting here half an hour while his secretary ignores me. The door to his office remains closed. If it wasn’t for muffled voices carrying through, I’d think he wasn’t in there. Tension is thick in the little room, but maybe that’s just because my shoulders are in permanent knots now.
“Did ya have a nice holiday break, Mrs. Parsons?”
She leans around her computer monitor to eye me with a suspicious glare. “The older I get, the harder it is to come back after breaks. I ain’t as good at makin’ the transition from maw-maw to secretary as I used to be.”
I nod in understanding. “I got so used to spendin’ all my time with my little girl. I miss her somethin’ fierce durin’ the work day.”
Surprisingly, she doesn’t sniff at the mention of my baby. Instead, her eyes soften. “She’s five now, ain’t she? Such a magical age. Did she have a nice Christmas?”
“It was a mix of magic and overly excited tantrums, but she did, yes. Thank ya kindly for askin’ after her.”
She offers me a genuine smile before returning to her work. Of course, if I’d overshared that most of Anne’s tantrums stemmed from the confusion she felt over the tension between her parents and grandparents, this little conversation wouldn’t have had such a happy ending.
The door to Jesse’s office creaks open. He appears with his hand on a student’s shoulder. “Next time ya feel ya can’t control yourself, I want ya to come straight here, ya understand? We’ll work on it together.”
The boy sniffles. “Yes, Mr. Yates.”
“All right.” Jesse gestures toward the hall. “Get on to your next class and mind what we talked about for the rest of the day.”
The boy scurries away without even a passing glance my way.
I rise and smooth down the wrinkles in my old skirt. “You wanted to see me, Mr. Yates?”
Jesse startles as if he didn’t see me either. He glances at the clock with a frown. “You’re plannin’ period’s almost over, so we don’t have a lotta time. Come on in.”
Mrs. Parsons raises her eyebrows as I follow Jesse into his cramped office. The paperwork seems to have multiplied a great deal since I was last in here.
“Leave the door open, please,” he instructs before taking a seat behind his desk. He gestures for me to be seated as well as he rifles through his desk drawer for something.
I watch in silence as he grows increasingly frustrated, sorting through files. He yawns and rubs at his tired-looking eyes before swiveling around to search through a different cabinet. Long nights of sleeping on my bedroom floor for Anne’s benefit are taking a toll on him. His jacket hangs on the back of his chair, and his white dress shirt bears an unusual number of wrinkles. Even his hair isn’t quite as smooth and styled as it was last semester. He wakes before any of us every morning to head over to his trailer to get dressed for work.
I never wanted him to suffer. That was the whole point of doing what I did. And yet…here we are.
“I’m gonna be home late tonight,” he mumbles as he continues his search. “Tell Anne I’ll make it up to her by bringin’ her to the basketball game tomorrow after school.”
I nod. Anne has a hard time understanding why he’s so much busier than I am and home far less since we work in the same place. She’s too young to explain that his responsibilities as principal outweigh mine as a teacher by at least three to one. The state pays him more for a reason.
He faces his desk again and glances around before pul
ling his hand through his hair, mussing it even further. “Where did I put ‘em?”
“Can I help ya, Jess?” I whisper. The pain in my shoulders intensifies, seeing the stress he’s under here and at home. Because of me.
He glances at the top of his computer screen where a manila folder rests, shaking his head as he grabs it. “I’m losin’ my damn mind,” he mutters under his breath before handing the folder across his desk to me. “Have these signed and turned in to me by the end of the week. No later than 3pm on Friday.”
“What are they?”
He stands and pulls his jacket on before grabbing a different file off the top of his desk. “Mr. Sayre is gonna be takin’ over your classroom observations. Ya need to sign and acknowledge that you’ll report to him as your direct supervisor from here on out. Come on. You’ll be late for class.”
He ushers me out of his office then closes and locks the door behind him. “Mrs. Parsons, if anyone needs me, I’ll be in Mr. Hanna’s room.”
She nods curtly as Jesse takes long strides out of the main office.
The weight of the folder seems heavier than a simple form to designate the vice principal as my primary boss. I’m afraid to open it. Jesse promised my daddy weeks ago he was gonna do things his way. I’m starting to wonder if that doesn’t mean finding an excuse to fire me.
“Do you really think it wise in your position to count your chickens before they hatch, Principal Yates?”
He’s only just walked through the door, but I’ve had hours to stew on the contents of the manila folder that absolutely did not only contain one place for me to affix my signature. He takes his time shaking the snow off his coat and stomping his feet on the mat as we engage in a silent staredown. “Them chickens done hatched a long time ago.”
Our little chick dashes down the hall like a bull in a china shop, throwing herself into Jesse’s arms. “Daddy! You’re home!”
