Eternal Spring (A Young Adult Short Story Collection)

by Eternal Spring Anthology

  Emerald eyes full of tears stare at me. “No, Charlie. I’m telling you he’s ours.”

  Ours? An army truck could have creamed through the diner and for the love of God, I wouldn’t have been able to move. Ours? The word rings loud and then louder as the reality of what she’s told me hits me. What the fuck? Frantically I recall the two times we made out. Both got heated fast and we hadn’t used condoms. I am such a fucking idiot. More than that, I’m furious. I’m so mad I can’t speak. The waitress comes over and automatically we order. The normalcy adds to the surreal moment.

  “Are you sure?” Instantly I regret asking that question. Jen’s eyes narrow and a red blush of embarrassment curls from her pale neck to her freckled cheeks. “Trust me, I’m sure.”

  I lean closer to her. I want more than anything to yell and scream at her but I force myself to be calm. “Jen, why didn’t you tell me?” Moving my head my eyes dart to the stroller. I’m dying to see the baby. What does he look like? Christ, I’m a dad. I don’t even know his name. I have a thousand thoughts zinging through my mind and can’t focus. One minute I’m angry and the next I’m overwhelmed.

  She takes a sip of coffee and picks up the sleeping baby. I want to hate her but she looks so damn hot and sexy holding him, my son, that I can’t pry my eyes from her. “Charlie, if I told you, I was sure you wouldn’t accept the army.”

  “You got that right. I should have been here for you.” My voice has a bark to it I’m finding hard to control.

  “No, that wouldn’t be right. The army is your way out. You said that yourself a hundred times. I really did want to tell you. I read all your letters and wrote back a dozen times, but I couldn’t get the nerve to mail them. When you texted me, I had to erase them. Please, don’t hate me. I’m okay. He’s okay. And more importantly, you’re okay.”

  What the fuck? I’m okay. This isn’t about me. This is about her and our baby. She made a decision…a decision I should have been involved with from the start, but she left me in the dark. I force myself to take a sip of coffee to calm down.

  “What’s his name?” I find myself leaning over the table to get a better look at him. My son.

  Jen smiles. “Daniel.”

  My heart flips over. I look at her hard for a long moment. Silently she holds him out to me. Without a word I take my son into my arms. “You remembered.” My voice cracks with emotion. That rush of being overwhelmed hits me like a bullet—hard and piercing straight through my heart.

  For the first time since she walked in Jen, cracks a smile. It transforms her instantly into her beautiful cheerful self. The girl I fell in love with. The girl I still love. “Trust me, that tickling session I remembered.” Jen leans across the table. “I wanted him to have a piece of you, Charlie.”

  I’m drowning with the emotions cascading through me. Was it only ten minutes ago I was pissed at her for not writing to me? Shit, the thought of what she’s endured in the last year makes me feel sick. I want to stay mad at her, but holding the baby, my son, our child, in my arms is doing something to me—it’s unraveling a piece of me I don’t want to examine too closely. Knowing she named our son Daniel, which is my middle name and my father’s name— keeping a piece of history tied to him—isn’t helping me stay angry. And right now I need to be in control. I have the right to be mad. She didn’t tell me. In fact, when I think about it, she downright lied to me. Liars are people I can’t stand, I remind myself as I gaze for the first time into the face of my son.

  I feel sick. There’s a part of me that’s acting calm, I can feel that—it’s that frozen part I locked away months ago when I realized the only person I could rely on was myself. I had to be strong for my son.

  “Jen, he’s so beautiful,” Charlie chokes out. He’s gazing at him with love shining in his eyes.

  I wonder what he’s thinking, holding his son in his arms for the first time. Does it feel totally overwhelming? Like the best instant love you’ll ever experience? That’s exactly how I felt when I gave birth to him. “Yeah, he’s beautiful and he’s a good baby. Only cries when he’s hungry, which might be soon.”

  Charlie’s gaze turns from our son to look at me. “Can I give him his food when he wakes up?”

  I’m now fighting back the tears and grabbling with embarrassment. Danny objected to my sister’s attempts to give him a bottle yesterday, so I’m back to nursing him. I love feeding him. It feels natural and keeps me connected to him. I’m trying to figure out how to tell all that to Charlie. I see Charlie’s doe-brown eyes turn heated as he processes what I’m not saying. See, that’s the thing with Charlie. He can read between the lines like a pro and it’s always been something I’ve marveled at.

  “Ah, you don’t give him a bottle, do you?”

  I shake my head. His cheeks turn slightly red, which adds to how adorable he looks nuzzling the top of our son’s head. I know what he’s trying to do. Inhale that sweet baby scent of him, because it’s something I do all the time.

  “Okay, let me just add to the awkward moment and say that’s really hot,” says Charlie, a grin spreading across his face. He throws in a wink to disarm me.

  I smile for real. This is the Charlie I came to love. Not only is he fast on his feet and academically a freaking brainaic, but his wit will blow you over like a cyclone. You either like it or hate it. I fell in love with it on day one when he and a bunch of other so-called high school delinquents showed up at my paddling club for an afterschool program. I’m not sure what the overall objective of the program was, but for Charlie and Eje, who’s still hooked up with my best friend Shannon, the program reinforced their desire to escape where they live.

  Charlie’s not very good in a kayak, but he knows his way around a weight room like a heroin addict—all hype and ready to show everyone the joy of lifting weights. Trust me, there’s no joy in pumping iron, but I’ve never told Charlie that.

  “Trust me, Danny—I call him Danny—likes his food.”

  “Life father, like son,” says Charlie with ease.

  Once again I have to remind myself not to fall for his charm. That’s not easy. Charlie was stud material before the military whipped him into shape. At six-foot one, with light, curly brown hair cropped even closer to his head, mocha skin tone and brown eyes, he’s brash and bold. Charlie was a lot of muscle before he joined the army but now all that muscle has been evenly displaced to the rest of his body. Plus, he looks more confident. Oh, he pulled off cocky with swagger and I’m not saying that’s gone, but he’s a guy with a purpose and he’s on the right path to achieve that. Me, what’s my purpose? It’s a question I don’t want to examine at the moment.

  Charlie keeps looking at me and Danny. “He’s got your nose. Thank God.” He chuckles.

  I laugh. Charlie’s always hated his wide nose and used to curse his no-good father for that genetic marker. “He’s got your eyes,” I add.

  “He does? I really hope he wakes up soon. I’m dying to see. So he’s, like, five months?”

  “Six. He was born on February twenty-seventh at four in the morning and he weighed a good seven pounds nine ounces.”

  “You have got to be kidding me. February twenty-seventh?”

  “Yeah,” I say, not feeling his excitement.

  “That’s my mother’s birthday.” If he grins any wider, his face might split open.

  “You’re kidding me. What are the odds of that?” I say, trying to process it all.

  Charlie switches Danny from his left arm to his right so he can better watch his face. He’s not nervous and looks in his element holding our son. Our breakfast arrives and I dig in while I can. My breasts feel heavy and my gut tells me when Danny wakes up, I’ll have to feed him. I brought along his soother, but half that time that doesn’t work to keep him quiet.

  Charlie uses his left hand to feed himself, not willing to put Danny down. I forgot Charlie was a leftie and it makes me wonder about Danny. I get his desire to keep Danny close.

  “Don’t you get it, Jen?
Our son was meant to be.”

  I’m stuffing a large piece of my cheese omelet into my mouth and almost choke. That was a phrase I used on my father after, like, our fortieth conversation about my choices. His first words of wisdom urged me to get an abortion. His second was adoption, which sounded worse than his kill-my-baby talk. When I finally did find my voice, I spoke about fate and all that crap. I know I said this baby was meant to be and while my dad told me not to romanticize it, which I’ll admit I’d done in the beginning, from day one I had a feeling I was right. Danny was meant to be. Could I have an abortion? No. It was that plain and simple. Could I even think about giving up my baby to complete strangers? I tried to think about it. I tried to paint a picture in my head that he’d be better off and end up with some rich parents, but in the end that’s not a guarantee and I couldn’t do it. Two months before I gave birth to Danny I left home to move in with my sister. The fights with my father had escalated and weren’t worth it. Of course, I can’t find my voice to tell my father. Instead, I left him a note and told him not to call.

  He called once after I left a message on the home answering machine, informing him he had a grandson. His call had been brief and awkward but before he hung up, he told me that no matter what he loved me. He didn’t add that he loved my son, and I get that step might take longer. Ella, my sister, said to give him time. It’s been almost half a year. I wonder how much time he needs. I don’t tell any of that to Charlie.

  “I take it your father freaked on you. Jesus, Jen, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. I should have been there for you.”

  I blink back tears and mouth, “It was difficult.” What I can’t believe is why Charlie isn’t screaming his head off at me. What I did to him was unfair. I almost feel the urge to text Shannon to tell her she was right. Instead, I lean across the table and for the first time in months, I touch Charlie. That one touch is all it takes. Holding our baby in his arms, he moves out of the booth and scoots in beside me. Using his left arm, he hauls me to him. I savor the feel of his body heat and let his warmth invade my scarred heart.

  “Jen, don’t lie to me again. It was shitty. I get that. Your father never liked me because of the color of my skin. I bet he freaked on you big time about having my baby.”

  I try to deny it but don’t. The hateful words my father spewed at me come flashing back. I dig my fingers into my palm. Pain is something I’ve learned to embrace.

  “He just doesn’t know you.” Why do I feel the need to defend my father? My father is far from perfect, but he’s only human and we all have flaws. His years on the police force certainly changed him. Raising the three of us after my mother died of breast cancer ten years ago didn’t make for an easy life. Maybe I should call him again?

  “Well, he might change, but I’ve dealt with enough people like your father to know that’s not going to happen overnight. And part of me respects that. I’m not sure I’d ever let a daughter of mine date a guy like me.”

  He’s trying to lighten the mood. Danny start to squirm, and I hold out my arms so Charlie will hand him over. Charlie gives me another one of his bone-melting longing looks I try hard to ignore. With obvious reluctance, he hands Danny to me. I absorb my son’s warm body and gently push down the small hoodie covering his head. Charlie leans closer and I expect him to pull his arm away from me, but he doesn’t.

  “Jen, don’t get me wrong. I’m really mad you didn’t tell me, but I don’t live in the past anymore. I’m also really proud of what you did. You did this because you wanted something better for me. I get that. But you’ve got to understand something. There wasn’t a day that went by without me thinking about you. I know I fast-talked you and I know you might have thought our fling was just that, but that’s never been what I wanted.”

  The tears slide down my cheek and I lean my head more into his muscular shoulder. He caresses my hair and I feel my heart start to beat a loud warning bell. I feel his touch throughout my sensitive body. So much for my armor.

  “I’m sorry,” I mumble. “I didn’t know what to do and then I didn’t know how to tell you.”

  “You should have told me from the beginning,” he says again.

  I know I’ve hurt him, but this is going a lot smoother than I envisioned. A small whimper from Danny draws me to him. His eyes are wide open and Charlie’s leaning over me so he can see the expression on his son’s face. That pulls at my heartstrings so much I have to concentrate on the sounds of the diner to avoid breaking down. The couple in the booth to our right has been privy to our entire conversation, but when I make eye contact with the woman she smiles at me. It’s such a reassuring look that I find myself smiling back. She turns her attention back to her coffee and I’m forced back to my son and Charlie.

  “His eyes are just like mine.”

  “I told you,” I say.

  Charlie is touching Danny’s cheeks. His hand is so big compared to our son’s small cheeks I find it mesmerizing.

  “He’s got your skin coloring.”

  “Maybe that will fade more with time,” Charlie says.

  I look up at Charlie. He’s never been proud of his African-Canadian heritage but it’s a part of him. Too bad his father wasn’t in their life. Danny’s mouth starts to make puckering movements.

  “Can you pass me that small blanket in the stroller? I’m going to have to feed him.”

  Charlie hands me the blanket and then moves back to his side of the booth. I adjust the blanket around me and realize my hands are shaking.

  “Listen, I’ve got to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back,” says Charlie, getting up from the booth before I can even nod a thanks.

  I know exactly what he’s doing. He’s giving me time to compose myself so I can feed Danny. I sniffle back the tears and lean back in the booth, letting my son take hold of me. Now what? I’m wondering. Will we eat our breakfasts and go our separate ways? What’s best for Danny? But what about what I want?

  I thought I knew what I wanted long before Danny came into my life. Getting my teacher’s degree had been my goal. Now, my priority is Danny. I haven’t given up, but sometimes taking care of him twenty-four-seven makes it feel like a pipe dream.

  Holy fucking shit. I think I’ve said that a dozen times in my head but I can’t stop. Jen is in there nursing my son. Our son. It’s such a major-turn on I feel like a freak. I should be pissed at her, but there’s this part of me that just wants to protect her. Is this how love feels? Shit, this is so not what I expected coming home on leave. I thought I’d spend my entire time partying. Now, all I want to do is spend my time with Jen and Danny. My son.

  I wonder what she’s thinking. If she thinks I’m walking out on her life, she can think again. No shit. My father might have done that to my mom, but that’s not going to be me. I know how hard it’s been on my mom to raise me, her hellion, on her own. Plus, I want to be there for my son. I guess the bigger question is, does Jen want me? Christ, I’ve got a freaking hard-on thinking about her breastfeeding our son. I’m too afraid to go back out into the diner. I wonder how long it takes to feed a baby. I start counting the dirty diamond squares on the floor and force my body to cool down. I judge a good ten minutes have passed. I leave the stall, knowing I was being a freaking coward, and head back out.

  Danny’s back in his stroller and Jen’s tucking in her shirt. The bill is on the table. I walk over and grab the two receipts, heading to the cashier. I pay and then I’m helping Jen move the stroller down the stairs and out onto the street.

  “So, are you still at home?” I ask, realizing I have no idea where’s she’s living.

  “No. I moved in with my sister. I live with her on Tower Road.”

  I wonder if her move was by choice but suspect it wasn’t. “Listen, Jen, we really need to talk more about all of this.”

  “Yeah, we do,” she says, moving the stroller back and forth.

  “Can I come over?”

  “As in, now?” Her green eyes look freaked.<
br />
  My heart’s running a marathon and I feel like I’m rushing the words. “I can come over now or wait until a better time. It’s up to you, but I’m not leaving you. You’re not getting me out of your life so fast.”

  She smiles. Guess I’m saying the right things. “My sister’s at work and the place is a mess, but yeah, you can come over.”

  My heart flip-flops. I nod and together we start the walk from the waterfront up to Tower Road. We talk about silly things. She tells me what Shannon’s been up to and then I realize what she hasn’t said.

  “You quit school, didn’t you?” I need to know.

  “Sort of had to. Things got really hard for me,” says Jen, telling more with those small words than if she’d launched into a lecture. “But I’m currently working on getting my GED. My sister is determined to help. Honestly, Charlie, I’m not sure what I would have done without her support.”

  Because I gave you none. I feel like a flat tire. Useless. What could I have done to help if she’d told me? Not much. Jen’s right. The only way out of my neighborhood was a scholarship like Eje got or the Armed Forces. I could have gotten a scholarship, but the reality is I wanted a military life. A chance to see more of the world. A chance for a steady job. An opportunity to learn a skill and be useful.

  “So, how is army life?” she asks, turning the conversation.

  For once I’m happy to switch subjects. It certainly hasn’t been a picnic, but I bet it’s been easier than Jen’s life. And that’s partly my fault.

  We get to her sister’s apartment and I help her haul up the stroller. It’s two freaking flights of stairs. How the hell does she do this every day? She unzips Danny but doesn’t move him from the stroller.

  “He likes to sleep in his stroller during the day.”

  I strip off my coat. Once Jen hangs up our jackets I turn to her. I walk right up to her and do what I’ve dreamed about a dozen times a day. I kiss her like she’s my lifeline. The scary thing is, since I met her she’s meant everything to me. And now it’s up to me to play at being her savior when in reality, she’s mine.