“Why not? Are you embarrassed of me?” He doesn’t really ask the question as much as he determines it to be a universal truth. “I understand,” he whispers, and all I hear is the lonely heart that’s lived inside this broken boy as long as I’ve known him. It breaks my heart.
I should elaborate. I should tell him all the good I see in him that I’m sure he’s never heard from anyone else. Because he doesn’thaveanyone else. And when he did have his mom, she was a bitch, especially to him. Instead, I go the logical route because, like I said, I don’t do feelings. “If we said you were the dad, that’s a lifelong job. Not that you would have to be responsible for the baby in a parental way at all, but you would be judged for not marrying me. You would be judged for us having different skin colors. You would be judged for not being an active father. There would be a stigma.” I don’t know what else to say, so I stop.You’re too good for that, I should add, but I don’t.
He looks like he wants to say something but then shakes his head to rearrange his thoughts, choosing his words meticulously. “What if…I wasn’t around in a few years? I mean…what if after graduation I left…moved away…and you never saw me again? If we told your grandma now that I’m the father to get you through this and to get you through school, wouldn’t that be worth it? I can just disappear in a few years…be the asshole…unfortunately, that happens all the time, dads walking out on their kids. Especially young dads.” He shrugs and it looks guilty because I know in my heart that if the baby were his, he would never walk out on them. “You can move on before then. I mean, you can date, obviously. We were never together, I wouldn’t expect us to be now.”
I smile sadly because I’m not sure where this guy came from, but I’ve never known anyone so selfless. I tease him because I can’t do anything else, “No one is going to date a pregnant girl or a single mom with a newborn; I’m not worried about dating.”
He almost rolls his eyes but stops short. “You know what I mean. I’m not trying to…” he searches for the right word, “…insinuate myself into your life. I’m just trying to…help.”
I know, and my God, do I ever need help. My cheeks are mostly dry, but I mop my face off with my sleeve and sniff back my stuffy nose. “Can I think about it?” I ask him.
He nods, back to quiet Toby.
I wait until he goes to the locked storage room in the corner to grab a part and is walking back up the stairs before I say, “Thanks,” because I know it makes him uncomfortable. He doesn’t respond, I don’t expect him to.
* * *
Two days later,I knocked on his door and accepted his offer to step in and keep my secret. I was raised with religion, though most days I don’t give it any thought. But today is the first day in my life that I’ve felt like guardian angels are real. And how lucky I am to have him as mine.
Chapter Forty
Past,1986
Stephanie
It’shard to focus when I’m flying like this.
I promised the last time that I was done.
That I was going to get clean.
Because I used to have dreams.
Istillhave dreams.
But then today happened.
And now I’m making the promise again.
Like I’ve done so many times before.
But still…
Still the promise, the dream, is gaining momentum and sometimes it feels like its pull is almost as powerful as the need to get high.
I want things to be different.
I want to change.
It’s just so hard.
When I look into his eyes, the realization dawns that I’m not just thinking the words, I’m saying them out loud. I knew leaving the house in this state was a mistake, but I needed to.
“I just had to leave, I couldn’t be there another minute,” I say as I stand, the skin on the back of my bare thighs slick with sweat from sitting on the vinyl chair for too long.
Straightening my shorts that are too short to be straightened, I look him in the eye again nervously, and though he looks like he’s trying to follow my free-flowing, disconnected discourse, I still feel like I need to escape.
“I should go,” I blurt.
