by JA Huss
“Elias? Is that you?”
I turn to see Dr. Tanya Yates, wife of Terrence Yates, Club member since 1999. “Tanya. Nice to see a familiar face.”
“OK,” another doctor says, coming up behind Tanya. “Let’s bring her back now and just take a look.”
Quin and I follow Rochelle and the new doctor towards the double doors to the emergency room, but the nurse puts a hand on my arm and says, “Parents only, please.”
“I’m her father,” I say.
She looks confused, then points to Quin. “He said he was her father.”
“He is,” I say. “We’re both—”
“Linda,” Tanya says, coming up with a firm smile to interrupt the questioning. “Let it go. Go ahead, Elias.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, and turn to follow them in.
Quin and I stand aside as the doctor and nurse do an assessment. “Well,” the doctor says. “I don’t think it’s going to get any worse. Did you feed her something new tonight? Something she’s never had before.”
“Oh, shit,” Rochelle says, looking over at Quin. “I left a new baby food out on the counter. Did you give her the tropical fruit?”
“Yeah,” Quin says. He looks devastated. “I’m so sorry, Rochelle. I didn’t know. I mean I did know about food allergies, I looked it up on the internet. So I knew. But I didn’t think of it. I just…” He shakes his head. “I just didn’t think.”
“It’s not your fault, Quin,” Rochelle says, giving him a sympathetic smile. “I was going to try it out this morning but she didn’t seem hungry after she had her bottle. So I saved it for later. I should’ve put it away. You didn’t know. I told Bric he could feed her the food on the counter so it’s not your fault, it’s mine.”
“It’s not anyone’s fault, you guys.” I say this in my calm rational, doctor voice. “She was going to have this reaction no matter who was feeding her. Could’ve happened to any of us.”
Everything I said is true, of course. But Quin still looks devastated.
“It’s kind of unusual to have an allergic reaction to tropical fruit, but mango has been showing up in the past few years.”
“Ah,” I say, slapping my head. “Shit. I have a mango allergy.” I look apologetically at Rochelle. “I should’ve told you that.”
“And you’re the… father?” the doctor asks, tilting her head at me in confusion. Tanya is not here to help me this time. I look over at Quin and he just shrugs.
“We’re both the father,” I say.
“OK,” the doctor says, fake good-naturedness in her response. “But one of you is the biological father? Or… she’s adopted?”
“She’s my daughter and one of them…” Rochelle stops talking, trying to figure out a way to explain things without really… explaining things. “We don’t know,” Rochelle finally says. “We’re not sure. And we’re not getting a DNA test.”
Quin and I get one raised eyebrow from the doctor, and a disapproving look from the nurse.
“OK,” the doctor says again. “Well, it probably is mango then. The reaction isn’t severe now, but if she’s exposed again, it could get much worse. We can schedule an allergy test if you’d like. Would you like to do that…” She looks down at the paper. “I’m sorry. Are you Mrs. Foster? This one only listed his last name on the intake form.” Apparently, Quin is now called… this one.
The rest of the visit with the doctor, and the nurse, once the doctor leaves, is just as awkward.
But we suck it up, get the referral for the allergist, Adley gets some antihistamines, and we are told to bring the baby food jar with us to the appointment.
We can’t get out of there fast enough.
“Rochelle?”
Oh, shit. Not now.
“Rochelle, is that you?”
“Lucinda,” Rochelle says, smiling for her old therapist.
“I heard you were back. And I heard about the little bundle of cuteness you brought with you.” Lucinda takes a moment to smile and coo at Adley. “I’ve been meaning to stop by the Club and see how you’re doing but—”
“I’m not at the Club,” Rochelle says, nervously looking over her shoulder at the eavesdropping nurse. “We live over on Wynkoop now. Right across from Union Station.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” Lucinda says… to Quin. Not me, but Quin.
“Ah, I live there too,” I add, feeling left out.
“Oh,” Lucinda says. “Sorry.” She laughs. “I’m sorry Elias. I just assumed you were… done. Playing the—”
“We’re not playing,” Quin says. “We’re just… together now.”
“I see,” Lucinda says. “All three—err, four of you?”
“We gotta go,” I say, taking hold of Rochelle’s arm. “It was nice seeing you again, Lucinda. Tell Clark we said hi.”
I don’t wait for an answer, just lead her out. Quin goes ahead of us and says, “I’ve got the car seat, so… you wanna come with me, Rochelle?”
“Sure,” Rochelle says. “Meet you at home?” she says to me.
“Yup, I’m right behind you.”
Quin’s car—Rochelle’s, really, since that’s the one with the baby seat in it—is parked in a spot right next to the emergency dropoff. My car is down a ways, so I tuck my hands into my pockets and head the other direction.
“Bric,” someone calls my name. “Bric, wait!”
I turn around to find Lucinda following me. Jesus Christ. Just go away.
“Do you have a second?” she asks. “Just a second,” she says again, coming up to me a little out of breath. “I just wanted to see how everyone’s doing. I’ve been meaning to call. Drop by.” She waves her hand in the air and smiles. “How’s Rochelle doing?”
“Great,” I say. “Just fine.”
“And this new… ah… arrangement the three of you have? That’s going over well? With Quin?”
“Why would you even ask that? Quin’s always been a part of—” I almost say the game. But it’s not a game. “Our relationship. It’s a relationship now, Lucinda.”
“Do you think that’s wise?” she says. “Considering… well, you know. The reason she left in the first place?”
“Look, Lucinda, I know it was pretty confusing last year for Rochelle. Quin rejected her and she was pregnant. Her leaving devastated him, but we’ve worked through it. We’ve decided to parent Adley all together. We’re in a real relationship now. And no, we don’t know which of us is the father, OK? Jesus Christ. Why can’t people just mind their own business? We’re not getting the test. Everything is great. We don’t want to know.”
“So… you guys are OK with that… other thing?”
“What?”
“I’m sorry,” she says, shaking her head a little. “I feel like we’re not on the same page here. Did Rochelle tell you why she left?”
“We all know why she left, Lucinda. She was pregnant.”
“Well, yes. She was pregnant. And yes, it was confusing since she was sleeping with both of you at the time. But… there was another… matter.” As soon as she finishes her sentence, Lucinda realizes she’s at her limit. She’s not allowed to talk about anything Rochelle told her in confidence. She made that very clear to me when I asked her about Rochelle again last fall. So her tone changes. “She didn’t mention that, did she?”
“What matter? What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I’m sorry,” Lucinda says. “I’m totally out of line here. I’m wasting your time. But please, tell Rochelle to call me.” She stresses those words. Call me. “I think we need to talk.”
She turns around and walks away, leaving me standing out in the cold night, speechless, confused, and, if I’m being honest, upset.
What the hell was that all about?
Chapter Twenty-Five - Quin
By the time we get home, Adley is exhausted and ready for bed. “She should sleep with us,” I say, taking off my coat and grabbing Rochelle’s to hang it up.
“Yes,” Rochelle agrees, kissing Adle
y’s flushed face. She’s still red. And the hives are still there, but not as bad as they were before. The doctor thinks it will go away in a few days as long as she doesn’t scratch it. They put some cream on it to prevent that. “I can’t even think about leaving her alone in that bedroom.”
She walks off towards the bedroom and leaves me behind.
I really fucked this up. I feel terrible. My first night alone with my daughter and it ends with a trip to the hospital. I didn’t even get to make a video. I totally had that planned, but I forgot. I didn’t get one picture to commemorate our night together, let alone a video. And we did a lot of stuff together before I practically killed her.
Bric didn’t forget.
Mango allergy.
I’m not a doctor. I’ve got no idea how allergies work, but pretty much everyone knows they are hereditary.
This whole time I’ve been convinced Adley is my daughter. One hundred percent. Hell, I even talked myself into believing she had my eyes.
I slump down into one of the chairs in front of the window, trying to come to terms with this new development.
If it turns out Bric is the father… what will happen to us?
Will Rochelle feel differently about me? Will I feel differently about her? Will we stay together?
I want to say no, no, and yes. But I’ve been in a lot of plural relationships. I know how precarious they are. The dynamics are fragile. It takes a lot of self-control to avoid jealousy and confusion. And even though I don’t want to admit it, most of my clarity this time around was based on the knowledge that Adley is my biological daughter.
The elevator dings and Bric walks into the loft. “Hey,” he says, taking off his coat and hanging it up. He walks over to the chair next to mine and takes a seat. “What’re you doing?”
“Thinking,” I say, curter than I intend.
“About?”
I give him a sidelong sneer. “What do you think?”
He sighs, props a foot on one knee. “Will it change things?”
“Will what change things?” I know what he’s talking about, but I want to hear him say it.
“If she’s allergic to mango?”
“Because that would mean you’re the father?”
“I mean, look, Quin. You and I both know the chances I’m the father are probably small. I have always assumed it was you and I’m still here. So I really fucking hope you’re not gonna walk out if it turns out the other way.”
“Maybe walking out wasn’t what I was thinking?” I don’t look at him because that right there, that was fucked up. But I’ve been thinking it. So might as well just test the waters now.
“What are you saying?”
I turn a little to look him in the eyes. “If you are her father, I don’t know how I’ll feel about that, Bric.”
“So you’d want me to walk away?” He says it evenly. His tone is normal. Polite, like always. “You’d really want me to leave?” But his jaw is clenched. And when I glance down at his hands, they are gripping the chair so tight, his knuckles are white.
“I said I don’t know. But I do know I love Rochelle. You know I love Rochelle.”
He nods. But he’s angry, I can tell. “And you won’t love Adley? If she’s not yours?”
“Don’t be fucking stupid,” I snarl. “Of course, I will. You don’t turn off love.”
“So I’m just supposed to turn it off? And let you have your little fantasy?”
“Look,” I say, trying to fix my fuck-up real fast. “I’m not saying any of that, OK? I’m just saying… it will be an adjustment. I’m not sure I’m ready for it.”
“Should we not go to the allergist?” Bric asks.
“Don’t be an idiot. Of course we need to do that. We already have this knowledge, Bric. We can’t just pretend things are the same tonight as they were this afternoon. Everything has changed.”
“Nothing has changed, Quin. Nothing. We’re still the same. She’s ours. Both of them. They’re ours. Don’t fuck it up, man.”
I sigh and look out the window again.
“Come on,” he says, standing up. “We don’t know anything yet. It might not be mango. And even if it is, she might still be yours. Don’t jump to conclusions. Just come to bed.”
He waits for me. Gives me several long seconds to think this through. And when I realize he’s not gonna let me sit in front of this window feeling disappointed and confused, I stand too.
We go in to the bedroom. Rochelle is in bed with Adley, looking down at our daughter with a mixture of love and concern. Adley’s eyes are closed and she’s sucking on her lip. Rochelle watches Bric and I strip down to our underwear, and then Bric gets in one side and I get in another.
Somehow, even though I don’t want there to be, there’s a message in this.
We are on opposite sides now. And maybe it’s always been this way? Maybe I just never noticed because I was so sure Adley was mine. That my claim on this relationship was pure and inevitable.
But Bric has changed everything. He was never invested before. He viewed Rochelle as someone to play with. Something temporary. I’m not stupid. I know he saw her as an opportunity. When Rochelle came home he probably thought it was the perfect way to get me back in his life. And it was. Here I am.
I don’t think that’s why he’s here anymore.
I don’t think he’s here for me. For our friendship.
I think he’s here for them.
“So, what do you know about allergies?”
“Yeah, that sucks, man,” Smith says. I called him up from work to get a second opinion. I know this is Bric territory, but Bric is the last guy I want to talk to. “Chella told me this morning. Rochelle called her.”
“Are you allergic to anything?” I ask.
“No. Why?”
“Because I’m not either. But Bric is. Says he’s allergic to mango. And they think…” I stop talking.
“They think? What?” Smith asks.
“I’m gonna be devastated, dude. They think Adley might be allergic to mango too. And that means…”
“Fuck,” he says. “Do they know that for sure?”
“No. We have an appointment with the allergist in two weeks. We tried to get in sooner, but they’re booked up and they say this isn’t urgent. Just don’t feed her anything new until we get it sorted. I guess they’re gonna prick her with needles and we’ll know for sure. God,” I say, running my fingers through my hair. “I don’t know how to feel about this.”
Smith is silent.
“How should I feel about this, Smith?”
“I dunno,” he says. “Does it matter? I mean, you guys look happy. Everything is working out the way you want it, right?”
“Yeah, but…”
“But?”
“But that was before, you know. When I was sure she was mine. If she’s not mine—I mean, I’m not leaving them over this. If it turns out Bric is the father. But… I think if we know for sure, it will change things.”
Silence.
“Are you there?” I ask.
“Yeah, I’m here. Just thinking.”
“Well, you got any answers for me?”
“Just…” He sighs. “Just wait it out. See what happens. I mean, I don’t think she looks like Bric, you know? She doesn’t have his eyes. And she doesn’t have Rochelle’s eyes, either.”
“She does have my eyes, right?”
“Sure,” he says. But then there’s a bunch of yelling in the background that takes several seconds to die down. It gets silent again and he’s back. “I had to go outside. Goddamned gym rats. Think they know what’s up. Little fuckers.”
“What the hell is going on?”
“Listen, I gotta go. I’m at the gym with the kids, you know? I gotta kick their thug asses today. They got me good again last time, but third time’s the charm, right?”
I chuckle picturing Smith boxing with wild teen boys who think they own the world. “Right. I’m gonna laugh my ass off when you come over on M
onday with a black eye.”
“Don’t say that. These kids are serious about kicking my ass. They have this pool going to see which one of them will knock me out first. I’m not as young as I used to be, man. Fucking teenagers.”
“All right then. You going to Chella and Bric’s tea room party tomorrow?”
He laughs.
“I’ll take that as a no.”
“Well, I’ll probably have to put in some kind of appearance. You know, be supportive and shit. Why are you going?”
“Yeah, Chella hit me up too. Rochelle is going. So… Sure. Why not.”
“OK, I gotta go take care of business. These punks are calling me maricón now. You know what that means?”
I just laugh.
“Never mind, asshole. Later.”
I hang up still smiling. Fucking Smith.
Robert knocks on my office door. “Hey,” he says.
“What’s up?” I ask, pulling myself out from my personal problems.
“You done for the day?”
“Yeah,” I say, looking at the papers on my desk. “Pretty much. Why?”
“You wanna take off early? Hit the bar? I’m done too.”
I check the time. It’s only two. And I’m about to say, Yeah, why not, when I get an idea. A sneaky idea. An innocent, perfect, sweet idea. “Nah,” I tell him. “I’m gonna go home early today.”
When I get home, Rochelle and Adley are sitting on the couch, half asleep. “What are you doing here?” Rochelle asks. But the question comes with a big, happy smile.
“I missed you,” I say, dropping my keys on the kitchen island. I walk over to the couch and sit down carefully. Adley’s eyes are heavy and she’s almost out. “How’s she feeling?”
“She’s fine, Quin. I really hope you don’t think this is your fault. Like Bric said, it was going to happen, no matter who actually fed her the food. And the rash is almost gone. It’s not going to be a big deal.”
Her neck is still a little bit red, but Rochelle is right. She’s fine.
It’s me who’s struggling.
“Let me put her in her crib and I’ll be right back, OK?”
