Daddy's Baby

by Landis Lain

  “I’ll try,” he said and cut the connection.

  Brielle looked at her phone for a long moment.

  He didn’t even say good-bye.

  Damon

  Damon told his mother that he was going to the mall to try to get some Christmas shopping done.

  “You want to go shopping?” she asked, with a smirk. “You sure you’re feeling all right?”

  “I always buy everybody Christmas presents,” he protested.

  “Not before Christmas Eve,” said Mrs. Hamilton

  “For once, I’m getting an early start,” he’d said and his mother had let him go, looking suspicious, but not asking any questions.

  Damon drove to the mall. He bought a couple of shirts for his sister and some cologne for his mother, so he wouldn’t be lying. Then, he drove himself to the Chinese restaurant behind the mall and sat in his cold car for a few minutes before he got up enough nerve to go inside.

  Once inside, Damon took off his glasses. He wiped the condensation from the lenses with the hem of his brown polo shirt and put them back on. He looked across the restaurant to see Sasha sitting primly in a booth. She looked exactly the same as he remembered her while she was sitting down. Sasha stood up and smoothed a hand over her big belly. Damon’s eyes widened. On lead feet, he walked to the table.

  “Hi,” she said. She smiled at him tentatively and lifted her lips like she was expecting a kiss from him. Damon continued past her and slumped into the booth across from her. He didn’t bother to take off his brown storm jacket.

  “I’ve missed you, Damon,” she said, looking sad. She sat down clumsily, brushing her belly against the table, knocking the napkin to the floor. Damon watched her while she struggled to reach over and pick it up. He made no move to assist her.

  “What are you going to do?” asked Damon. In the five days since his trip to the hospital, his mind had been running in constant agonized circles like a demented hamster on speed. He’d dodged Brielle in class, leaving her narrow-eyed and puzzled. After school, he begged off of phone calls, telling Brielle that he had to study for upcoming exams.

  Sasha smiled.

  “We’re going to have a baby, Damon,” she said, like she was happy about it.

  “I noticed,” said Damon, sullenly. “When?”

  Damon had two nieces and a nephew, as his brother Dexter and his wife had three children, but had never had to care for any babies. Jada was less than a year younger than Damon. He had no practical knowledge of how to have a baby, even if he’d had sex education in school and carried around that artificial baby for health class.

  “In February,” said Sasha, looking proud. “The doctor’s said February 15. I’m seven months pregnant.”

  “Can’t you get an abortion?” he asked.

  She looked at him like he was crazy.

  “Too late for that,” she said, clasping her hands together in front of her. “I’d never do it anyway. I couldn’t kill our baby.”

  “So, in two months, you’re going to be a mother,” said Damon, still trying to wrap his mind around that fact. Sasha smiled back at him.

  “We,” she said. “Are going to be parents.”

  Damon nodded.

  “We can’t get married or nothing,” he said. “I’m too young. I don’t think my parents would go for that.”

  The little Chinese waitress came over to the table and asked what they wanted to drink.

  “Could I have a glass of milk?” asked Sasha.

  “Coke,” said Damon.

  “I’m hungry, Damon,’ said Sasha.

  Damon nodded and they both slid out of the booth to walk over to the buffet. Damon watched Sasha from behind as she walked. Except for the fat belly, Sasha looked like any other fine nineteen year old. Damon didn’t know why she no longer appealed to him, but she didn’t. His mother’s words rose up to his mind.

  “Beauty,” she was fond of saying, “is not an accomplishment. It is an ever changing, subjective standard set by weak minded people who don’t have anything better to do than make other weak minded people feel bad about God’s creation.”

  Yep, his standard of beauty had definitely changed. Or maybe it hadn’t. He’d never considered Sasha to be beautiful, not like Brielle. Thick and fine, yes. He’d never thought about what the word beautiful meant. Sasha had just been a fine girl to play with. Sasha had approached him. He cast around in his mind for something he’d read to give him an answer to the questions spinning in his mind, but came up empty. Another of his mother’s adages came to him, “Don’t play,” she’d say, “if you aren’t ready to pay.” Nice time to get that one, Damon. This was not good. OH GOD!!

  They ate in silence, Damon choking chicken, broccoli and pepper steak past his throat with difficulty. Sasha ate with gusto and drank at least three glasses of milk. She went back to the buffet twice. Damon watched, mind frozen with dread.

  “I don’t know why I’m so hungry,” she said with a coy smile. “I guess it’s because I’m eating for two.” She chattered on and on about the upcoming baby and names she’d picked out. Damon just sat and stared at her.

  “What’s the matter, boo?” she asked. “Aren’t you excited about the baby?” Damon wanted to throw up.

  “No,” he said bluntly. “I’m not excited about anything that is going to wreck my life. I can’t have a baby. Why are you doing this?”

  “I didn’t do this by myself, you know,” said Sasha, lip quivering. She set her half-finished glass of milk on the table and looked down at her rounded stomach, shoulders shaking.

  “Don’t cry,” said Damon, quickly. His own voice sounded shaky. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s going to be fine,” she said, looking up. Her expression cleared like magic and she dashed away a few tears with the back of her hand. “You’ll see. Now that we are together, things will work out for the best.”

  “Sasha,” said Damon through clenched teeth. “We are not together.”

  Sasha’s eyes filled with tears again. “You’re not going to deny this baby, are you?”

  “No,” said Damon, hastily. “I just need some time to get used to this.”

  “Well,” said Sasha, sighing with relief. “I’ve had some months to get used to it. You’ll be all right. Prenatal classes start next week. My mother wants you to come over and talk to her.”

  “Okay,” said Damon. He felt like he was swimming in Jell-O, getting just enough air to keep from drowning.

  Sasha

  “Who is this?” said Sasha’s mother. “You couldn’t wait to be sniffing up behind some boy as soon as you got back here.”

  Since those were the first words out of Mrs. Redmond’s mouth and she’d barely let them into her house, Damon was about five seconds from bolting. He’d driven Sasha to her mother’s house. He’d been in the house many times before, but never really noticed the red and white decorations in the living room before. He’d been concentrating too hard on Sasha’s bedroom and listening in case somebody came home and caught them. He’d also never been here when her mother was at home. Damon felt vague shame at having disrespected this woman’s house. He turned his full attention on Mrs. Redmond. She was a small, light skinned woman who probably looked very much like her daughter, thought Damon, when her face wasn’t all screwed up with rage.

  “Ma,” said Sasha, patiently, as if her mother had not just insulted her. “This is Damon Hamilton. He is my baby’s daddy.”

  “Oh,” said her mother, looking at Damon narrowly. “The baby daddy is here. This is the boy that couldn’t keep it in his pants.”

  “Ma,” said Sasha, looking desperate. “Please.”

  “Miss Benson,” said Damon, fighting not to stammer. “I’m going to stand by Sasha and take care of my child.”

  “Like you stood by her all this time?” asked Mrs. Benson.

  “No, ma’am,” said Damon. “I didn’t know she was pregnant until she called me a few days ago. Then, I was sick. I’m really sorry”

  That seemed
to make her even angrier. So red in the face that Damon feared she was about to burst a blood vessel, Mrs. Benson took two steps to the right and smacked Sasha on the shoulder with the flat of her hand. With a cry, Sasha staggered to the side. Instinctively, Damon put out a hand and steadied her.

  “Yes, you both are just as sorry as can be. All you little knot heads fornicating and spreading your seed around ought to be ashamed,” snarled the woman. She rounded on Sasha again. “And you, little Miss hot pants. You even sure this is the right boy?”

  “Yes, ma, I’m sure it’s the right boy,” said Sasha, looking furious. “I’m no slut. I just made a mistake.”

  “Mistake my behind,” said her mother.

  “Ma,” said Sasha. “You said it was okay to come back home. If it’s not, I got no place else to go. Damon, could I get a ride to the shelter downtown?”

  “Where you gonna go?” screamed Mrs. Redmond. “You gonna tell everyone how I didn’t do my Christian duty and kicked out my poor pregnant child? For the second time? I don’t think so.”

  She approached Damon as through she was going to repeat her actions but his expression must have stopped her. Damon took a step back. He didn’t want to fight with the woman, but he wasn’t standing still while she hit him, either.

  “Oh, you gonna jump bad on me, punk,” she said.

  “Maybe I should come back when you’ve calmed down a little,” he said.

  “Calm down? Calm down?” shouted Mrs. Benson, waving her hand in his face. “I’ll calm down when you take care of your responsibilities and get this heifer off my insurance. I rebuke you, both of you.”

  “I’d better go,” said Damon, making a move towards the door.

  “Don’t you walk away from me when I’m talking to you!” screamed Sasha’s mother. Damon backed away from her.

  “You coming?” he asked Sasha.

  “Walk out that door, and don’t come back,” said Mrs. Benson to Sasha. “I will kick the dust off of the back of my shoes over you like Jesus kicked the dust of Satan off of the back of his sandals.” Sasha froze and looked at Damon with a pleading expression on her face.

  “Call me tomorrow,” said Damon. And he nearly ran out of the door. He heard it slam behind him. He got into his car and drove down the block. After a few minutes he stopped and parked the car. He needed to compose himself before he spoke to his parents. He reached into his pocket and took out his inhaler. In the past few days he’d used it more than he had all year. He took a puff and felt his tight chest loosen. He laid his head back against the headrest for a few minutes and watched the snow fall in big fluffy white flakes. It was going to be a white Christmas.

  God, what was going to happen to him?

  Brielle

  Brielle and Kyzie were at the mall with Sammie. Sammie was looking for fly shoes as usual. Brielle was thinking about what she wanted to get Damon for Christmas.

  “I don’t know what to get,” said Brielle. “Everything is so expensive, or way too personal.”

  Kyzie snorted, “Yeah, I’m sure mommy would flip out if you were to buy him some boxers or something.”

  “Sammie,” said Brielle, ignoring her sister. “What do you think?”

  “Well,” said Sammie. “Khalil is really into art, so I thought that I’d buy him some really nice art supplies and a cool baseball cap.”

  “That is a good idea,” said Brielle.

  “Well, what about books?” asked Kyzie. “All you ever see Damon doing is reading. It’s a wonder the boy doesn’t go blind.”

  “Yeah,” said Brielle. “That’s good.” The three of them headed for the bookstore.

  “I can’t believe that you and Damon have been going out for almost four months,” said Sammie. “Khalil and I have been talking for about seven months and it seems like forever.”

  “That is like forever,” said Kyzie. “And he is so boring. Damon, I mean. Khalil is okay.”

  “Damon is not boring,” said Brielle, feeling compelled to defend him. They had had several dates and it had gotten hot and heavy on several occasions. Only lack of space and the cold weather had preserved Brielle’s virginity, since necking in the car was as far as they could go.

  “You say that because you’re infatuated with his pretty face,” said Kyzie. She fluttered her eyelashes at Brielle and sighed. “Oh, Damon is so fine.”

  “Did you read my diary?” asked Brielle, outraged.

  Kyzie rolled her eyes.

  “As if I would,” she said, disgusted. “I’ll bet the diary is even more boring than Damon and his dumb books. At least you can look at him and appreciate the scenery. Like a wall poster or something. Reading about how cute he is would make me throw up.”

  “I can’t stand you,” said Brielle, fiercely. Kyzie stuck out her tongue.

  “Cut it out, you two,” said Sammie, stepping between them. She grabbed each of them by the arm and steered them towards the bookstore. “You are worse than my brothers. Next thing, you’ll be rolling around on the mall floor, fighting. The mall rent a cops will come and take you to jail. That would be so ghetto.”

  Kyzie and Brielle laughed.

  “I demand that we get some Christmas spirit,” said Sammie, mock frowning at both of them in turn. Her eye lit up as she spotted a display inside the store. “Oh look, they have those yummy Godiva chocolate truffles.” Hostilities ceased as they entered Barnes and Nobles.

  Later, Brielle found the perfect book for Damon, a collection of books by Ernest Gaines. At the jewelry counter of Macy’s she found a nice sterling silver serpentine chain that was on sale and had just enough money to buy it. Satisfied with her purchases, she said to the other girls, “This is going to be the best Christmas, ever.”

  Damon

  Damon waited in the car, blowing into his hands to keep them warm. School had been over for a couple of hours and the parking lot was deserted. He’d taken his finals; fortunately, he could do school work in his sleep. Studying had kept his mind engaged. Finals had kept his thoughts from skittering around like a hamster running from cat.

  Everyone was gone for the Christmas holidays, except a few teachers and Damon waited patiently, parked next to Mr. Tally’s car. He needed to talk to someone and the only person he could think of was the Vice Principle. He’d called his mother and told her that he was going to work on some more scholarships and she’d said okay. Finally, he saw Mr. Tally emerge from the building and trudge through the snow, shoulders slumped in weariness. Damon waited until he walked up to the car and then rolled down his window.

  “Can I help you, Damon?” asked Mr. Tally. “Is there something wrong with your car?”

  “No, sir,” said Damon. “I, um, I just, uh, could I talk to you?” Mr. Tally gave him a long look.

  “I just locked up the building, Damon,” said Mr. Tally. Damon’s shoulders slumped. Mr. Tally eyed him. Then he squared his bulky shoulders and relented.

  “Look, I’m starving and exhausted. Follow me. We’ll grab a burger and you can tell me what this is about, okay.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Damon. Once they were seated, Mr. Tally made Damon call home and talked to Mrs. Hamilton, to make certain she knew where Damon was.

  “So,” said Mr. Tally, “What’s up?”

  “I need to withdraw my application for the Bill Gates Scholarship,” said Damon.

  “Why?” asked Mr. Tally.

  Damon explained. “So, I won’t be going away for school.” His voice was harsh with unshed tears.

  “The Bill Gates scholarship can be used at any school,” said Mr. Tally. “So even if you stay home and go to, say, Michigan State, you can still use it.”

  “Yeah, but I think I’ll just work and take care of the baby,” said Damon.

  Mr. Tally cut a piece of steak and put it into his mouth. He chewed for a long time and then swallowed.

  “Have you talked to your parents about this, Mr. Hamilton?”

  “No sir,” said Damon. “I haven’t told them yet. I needed to get stuff str
aight in my head, first. They are going to be so mad when I tell them.” He hung his head over his plate.

  “You know Mr. Hamilton,” said Mr. Tally. “You are not the first young man this has happened to and you will not be the last. This doesn’t have to ruin your whole life.”

  “You don’t know anything about it,” said Damon.

  “Tell me about it then.”

  “I don’t want a baby.”

  “Most teenagers don’t,” said Mr. Tally. “Did you lay down with the young lady?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Did you use protection every single time?”

  “Most of the time,” said Damon, shamefaced.

  “Figures,” said Mr. Tally. “Teenagers are so damned careless.”

  “Yes, sir, I was,” said Damon.

  “Are you sure it’s your baby?”

  “Pretty sure,” said Damon. “The dates sound right.”

  “Then what you want is irrelevant,” said Mr. Tally. “Baby is on the way.”

  “Why couldn’t she have gotten an abortion?”

  “She could have,” said Mr. Tally. “Would that solve your problem?”

  Damon stared at the man who, puzzled.

  “I wouldn’t be having a baby at seventeen. It’s not fair that she gets to make a decision that is going to affect the rest of my life,” he said.

  “And your decision to lay down with her is a decision that is going to affect the rest of her life,” said Mr. Tally, firmly. “An abortion would not make your feelings go away. It would not solve your problems.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that you’re a deep thinker, Damon. Whether you admit it or not, you care about this girl and about this pregnancy. Right now you’re in a panic, but you do care.”

  “I don’t love Sasha.”

  “No, maybe not,” said Mr. Tally. “But from what you said, you stopped having sex with her because you didn’t return her feelings. So you do at least have that much respect for her, right?”

  “Yes,” admitted Damon. “But, she was too needy.”

  “Because she wanted you to return her feelings and you knew that you didn’t. It was mature of you to stop having sex with her under those circumstances. Continuing to use her would have been wrong and you realized that. Unfortunately, you didn’t think about that beforehand, but you are just as stupid as all sixteen year olds are, so here we are.”