by J P Barnaby
THE HIGH-PITCHED babble of a small child woke him as the shadows stretched across their bedroom. A tinge of garlic followed, and Aaron’s stomach snarled in response. As much as he wanted to stay in bed and avoid the elephant in the living room, his body begged for food. He crawled out of bed and reached for the door handle just as he realized he was wearing only a T-shirt and briefs. Great, now he had to start wearing pants on top of everything else.
Annoyed but properly dressed, Aaron wandered into the living room, where Sophie toddled through the space. She touched everything she passed. Sometimes she stopped long enough to inspect an object, but mostly she gazed around in wonder. At the bookcase near the door, she grabbed a picture frame in her tiny hands.
“No, Sophie,” Aaron told her. If she dropped it, there would be a mess of broken glass. He took the frame and laid it on a higher shelf. He’d right it later. It took only two seconds, two seconds of silent peace, before Sophie let out a scream they probably heard from the parking lot.
Aaron glanced toward the kitchen, where Spencer dumped pasta into a strainer.
Damn it.
He sat on the floor next to the screaming child and reached out a hand. She didn’t move. He scooted closer. She gave him a look that smacked of “if looks could kill.” Finally he scooped her up.
“You can’t have that picture, Sophie.” On some level he realized that trying to reason with a three-year-old wouldn’t work, but the sound pierced his spine.
“Mama.” She hiccupped herself into a semisilence and sniffled, though some of snot trickled down her tiny face.
Ew.
He rolled hard to the side and snagged a box of Kleenex with the tips of his outstretched fingers. It took a minute of one-handed maneuvering, but eventually he ripped off part of a tissue. He held it out to Sophie before realizing the gesture was pointless. Annoyance bubbled through him like the snot in her nose, but he chased her face around three times before snatching the wetness away.
“Mama,” she said again and made little grabby hands up. “Mama. Spenna.”
“Spencer is finishing up dinner.”
“Mama. Spenna,” she cried, reaching up toward the shelf again.
Oh.
He stood up and grabbed the picture from the shelf and turned it over. There, smiling from the confines of the frame, were Spencer and Nell at his college graduation.
“Mama. Spenna,” Sophie said with a little less urgency.
Aaron slid back to the floor and sat cross-legged in front of her. Before he could turn the picture around, she climbed into his lap and grabbed it. It seemed that was the magic balm. She touched her mother’s face through the glass.
“Mama.”
“Yeah, honey. That’s Mama,” Aaron said.
“Dinner. Is—” Spencer stopped midsentence. The smile that lit up his face at the sight of Sophie in Aaron’s lap made the retort die in Aaron’s throat. He didn’t want Spencer to get his hopes up about him taking responsibility for the kid, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to kill it either.
Chapter 8
SPENCER DIDN’T want to go back to work. Sophie seemed to get along okay with Michelle and Tony, but he wished he had more time to get Aaron used to the idea of having the little girl in his life. After the picture incident, Aaron didn’t really pay much attention to Sophie, preferring to make dinner or hide in their bedroom grading code. Dr. Mayer didn’t assign enough code in a year that it would take Aaron that long to grade it.
Aaron’s mother and even his own father said Aaron would come around. He discounted it from Michelle as wishful thinking, but his father understood Aaron’s mental state better than anyone. Maybe he wanted to placate Spencer, but Dr. Henry Thomas was a realist above anything else he might be in this life—he didn’t sugarcoat.
The elevator doors opened onto his floor at the office, and a silent explosion of bodies appeared from nowhere, jockeying for position around him. Everyone talked at once, challenging Spencer with the impossible task of understanding them. He held up both hands and mimed typing. The crowd dispersed slowly, back to their workstations so they could assault him on chat instead.
Claire beat the rest of the pack because she hadn’t gone running toward the door when he entered.
[Claire]: Hey, how’s your new little pocket of sunshine?
[Spencer]: Aaron’s fine.
[Claire]: Freak. You know I meant the kid.
[Spencer]: I know. She’s doing as well as could be expected. Asks for her mother, but we’ve been trying to keep her occupied playing with Aaron’s nephew, who is two.
[Claire]: My son had the worst time after his father died. At that age, they just can’t understand. He’ll start to get it better when he’s older, and Sophie will too.
[Spencer]: Yeah, I don’t know when I really got it, but it must have been in elementary school.
[Claire]: You lost one of your parents?
[Spencer]: My mom died when I was born. I never told you that?
[Claire]: No!
[Spencer]: Sorry, it wasn’t a secret. It never occurred to me that you didn’t know.
[Claire]: Well, then, you’re the perfect person to explain Nell to Sophie.
[Spencer]: Yeah, because Nell was the one who explained my mom to me.
The rest of the conversations went on in much the same way. Coworkers pretended to politely ask after his family while digging for office gossip. He had a feeling they’d be whispering about him over the watercooler. Do we have a watercooler? Thankfully he wouldn’t be able to hear it. Instead he checked his chat and saw Aaron wasn’t on yet. Spencer hoped he wouldn’t avoid him on chat like he avoided him at home.
It took all of an hour—an hour of checking his backlog of e-mail—for him to text Michelle.
How’s our little girl doing?
It took a minute for her to respond. Aaron’s mother wasn’t one to keep her phone with her at all times. But eventually his phone vibrated.
Spencer, you know I raised three boys, right?
He laughed, able to see the exasperated expression right through the phone.
And you did a fabulous job. I just wanted to make sure she was okay.
The “they hadn’t just lost their mother” he left hanging in the air, but Spencer knew she’d read between the electronic lines.
She is doing just fine. Tony is keeping her busy trying to run her over with the truck. She’s bigger and just laughing at him.
That’s my girl! Spencer texted back. I’m glad she’s not freaking out about us not being there.
Speaking of, has Aaron had any more interactions with her? Spencer guessed she already knew the truth.
No. He spends most of his time ‘grading papers,’ Spencer admitted.
I figured as much when he practically threw her at me on the doorstep.
Let him get over the shock. He’ll either come around or he won’t.
He will, Aaron’s mother promised.
Sure.
Just as he set his phone back on the desk, Aaron’s status on chat went green. He wondered if he should send a message just to say hi, but Aaron beat him to it.
[Aaron]: Hey, how’s your first day back?
[Spencer]: Lonely.
[Aaron]: All your friends on vacation?
[Spencer]: I liked spending time with you and Sophie at home.
[Aaron]: I know. I liked it too.
[Spencer]: Really?
[Aaron]: Yeah, I liked being there with you.
[Spencer]: And Sophie?
[Aaron]: Did you think about where you wanted to move?
Spencer sighed at the change of subject, but at least Aaron didn’t turn his chat off.
[Spencer]: Some. Mrs. Holtz said there’s a two bedroom in their complex on the next street. It’s even ground level.
[Aaron]: Do you think a two bedroom will do it?
[Spencer]: What do you mean?
[Aaron]: That kid has a lot of stuff.
Claire looked over at him when
he laughed.
[Spencer]: Maybe.
[Aaron]: Can we afford a two bedroom?
[Spencer]: Yeah, don’t worry about that. My salary will cover it. Plus, Nell left me a couple hundred thousand from her life insurance. I didn’t tell you that?
[Aaron]: Uhm. No?
[Spencer]: I’m sorry. There was a lot going on. There’s a college account for Sophie, and then cash from the insurance.
[Aaron]: Wow.
[Spencer]: I guess she wanted to make sure I could take care of Sophie no matter what.
[Aaron]: I can see if Anthony and Bren can come in for a weekend and help us move.
Another deflection—Spencer saw it for what it was, but he didn’t press. He told Aaron they could either do that or hire movers and then let the discussion die. Disappointment settled somewhere near his navel at the thought of Aaron walking away from their relationship because of Sophie. They’d invested so much—time, energy, love. He didn’t want to give that up, but Sophie had to come first. Aaron needed to see that.
Spencer spent the rest of the morning peer reviewing the new code Claire had written while he was out. He liked her tight design and creative object reuse. The unit testing of each module kept his mind off the problem of Aaron and Sophie for most of the day. One of the best parts about his job was how he got lost in code. No one to disappoint, no one to get pissy about whose turn it was to do laundry. Just simple functions and parameters that did whatever he wanted.
He was a programming god.
Okay, maybe not.
At that moment the code threw an error message, and he settled in for another round of testing.
Chapter 9
“HOW ARE things at home?” Dr. Mayer asked and dropped into a chair in front of his desk in their tiny computer science departmental office.
Aaron called it “their” office simply because he hung around at a small table in the corner to grade papers or get away from people during breaks. It hadn’t taken much to get the department head, a raspy gray-haired older man named Dr. Herbert, to give Aaron a key to the office. One quiet explanation of his problems and his history and the poor man practically threw the key at him to end the conversation.
“Different,” Aaron admitted. “Our one-bedroom apartment has turned into a one-kid daycare. There’s stuff everywhere—clothes, toys, and hygienic crap I can’t think about. It’s stunning how much stuff one really small person can accumulate in such a short period of time.”
Dr. Mayer laughed. “Yeah, that was my brother when my twin nieces were born. Think about everything that has exploded in your apartment and multiply it by two. You guys are looking for a new place, right?”
Aaron shuddered at the thought of twins. He couldn’t even deal with one.
“At some point. Right now we’re just trying to keep our heads above the cloud of baby powder that seems to pervade every room in the apartment.”
Dr. Mayer laughed harder.
“It’s not funny,” Aaron said but chuckled a bit through his protest.
“I know it’s a lot to take on. I got ten years on you guys, and I couldn’t imagine having a kid dropped into my lap. If you need some time off, let me know, okay?” Dr. Mayer pulled up something on his laptop. “We’re coming up on a break, and the assignments aren’t going to get complicated for either level of classes for about a month. And I did manage without a TA before you came along.”
“Maybe, but you hated grading papers. Something about ‘no hope for the tech field of the future.’ But I’m fine, really—the distraction helps me cope.”
“Thank God, because we have that project due, and it might break my spirit to grade them all.”
Aaron laughed and fired up his laptop to start work on his PHP homework.
HE WANDERED out of the school about three hours later after his last class—psychology. Yeah, they didn’t have a fucking clue, but he did the reading and the homework assignments and kept his mouth shut about their ideas about stress-related disorders. It was a late night, so traffic stayed pretty light on the way back to the apartment. Spencer would have already picked up Sophie from his mom’s house. Now Aaron just needed to start dinner for them, because Thursdays were his night to cook.
Raised voices caught his attention as he came off the stairs at their floor. One of them belonged to Spencer; the other voice belonged to a woman. At first Aaron thought maybe his mom and Spencer were fighting, but he realized it didn’t sound like her.
“You can’t even hear, Spencer. What if she pulls a bookcase onto herself or someone tries to snatch her at the grocery store. How will you even know?” the voice shrieked, and Aaron pushed open the door, which had been left ajar.
“Nell. Left. Her. To. Me.. She. Is. My. Responsibility.. If. She. Wanted. You. To. Have. Her., She. Would. Have. Made. Different. Arrangements..”
“We were legally partners when Sophie was conceived. I am her mother. Any court is going to run with that rather than leaving her with a twenty-five-year-old who can’t hear.”
The woman spun and saw Aaron standing in the doorway. Light danced off her black hair as she moved. A sleek business suit covered her tiny frame, but it looked wrong on her somehow, uncomfortable. Not a bit taller than Aaron, she recoiled at the sight of Aaron’s face, as most did, but then turned back to glare up at Spencer.
“Spenna?” Sophie asked, her voice no more than a whisper. Spencer, focused on the woman, didn’t say anything, so Aaron scooped up the little girl and held her to his chest.
“Shhhh. Sophie, it’s okay, honey,” he murmured against her hair.
“Spenna mad.” Tears sparkled in her eyes before falling down porcelain cheeks.
Spencer turned then to see Aaron holding a crying Sophie. He held out his arms and she went to him without hesitation. He stroked her back and turned to face the woman.
“It. Is. Time. For. You. To. Leave.. You. Are. Upsetting. Her..” Even with his slow speech, the hardness in it couldn’t be missed.
“You’ll be hearing from my attorney.” She pulled a flamingly orange bag up onto her bony shoulder and whisked from the room with all the melodrama of a soap opera diva.
Aaron closed and locked the door behind her before he spun to face Spencer. “What the hell was that?” He could hear the odd clomping of her heels on the stairs as she descended.
Spencer dropped onto the couch, bringing Sophie into his lap.
“Jane is Nell’s ex,” he signed. “She thinks she should have custody of Sophie.”
“Why do you think Nell didn’t leave custody to her?” Aaron asked.
“I do not know, but Nell didn’t do things lightly. She must have had a reason.” Spencer stroked Sophie’s hair as she rested against his chest. She didn’t want to go play with her mountain of toys. She needed the security of Spencer’s presence.
Aaron chose his next words very carefully.
“What makes us better parents for Sophie than she would be? Obviously she cares about her very much. She looks like a successful person, and she said they’d planned to have Sophie together.” Aaron dropped onto the couch as a look of rage passed over Spencer’s face.
“You have wanted to get rid of her since the moment I brought her home. She brings chaos into your ordered little life. Well, you know what, Aaron? Life is chaos. You need to either man up and accept that Sophie and I are a package deal, or you need to go home to your mother.”
Aaron sucked in a hard breath, dropping his eyes to a worn spot on the couch.
“Sophie., Wanna. Go. To. Donald’s.?”
“Donald’s, Spenna, french fries.”
With that, Spencer pulled on his own shoes and then Sophie’s tiny little Disney sneakers. He had his keys in his hand when he turned to face Aaron.
“Coming.?”
“Do you want me to come?”
“Yes., I. Do….”
A FEW hours later, they found themselves sitting with Aaron’s parents in the rec room of Dr. Thomas’s home. One big emergency family
meeting.
“I don’t practice family law, but I can certainly ask around and see if I can get a recommendation. There are also a few websites we can check for a good lawyer in Illinois. If she was indeed married to Nell, she may have a good case for custody, even with Nell’s wishes. But since I don’t specialize in custody cases, I can’t say for sure.” Aaron’s father spoke with his hands, not in a signing sort of way but in distress.
“They’re definitely going to use the deaf card. Do you think they’ll try to use the fact that we’re gay?” Aaron asked.
“I can’t see how that strategy would work, given Jane’s history with Nell.” His father sat on the chaise near their circle of concern around Spencer.
“Two young men raising a little girl,” Aaron’s mother pointed out. “That’s where they’ll go, after Spencer’s deafness.”
“I agree,” Dr. Thomas said, coming back into the room with a tray of steaming coffee mugs. “Even with the Supreme Court decision on marriage equality, there are still some judges who like to legislate from the bench.”
“So. What. Do. We. Do.?” Spencer finally interjected, the question laced with defeat.
“Fishie,” Sophie cried as she stood up on the seat of a leather chair nearby and pressed her face against the glass side of the tank. “Fishie, Spenna!”
“She likes the fish,” Aaron told Spencer when he looked puzzled. With her face pressed against the tank, reading her lips became a challenge. The interruption seemed to relax the conversation, give each person a break from the overwhelming challenge ahead of them.
“She can’t pull that tank over, can she?” Spencer signed at his father, who shook his head. Aaron’s mother watched Sophie with a softness that touched Aaron’s soul. If that woman took Sophie, it would hurt his mother—even though she’d only had Sophie in her life for a couple of months.
