I waited for him to start explaining. When he didn’t, I placed my hands on my hips impatiently. “Are you going to tell me what kind of help you need? Or how about why you came to me?”
He extended one hand and gestured for me to stop with my rapid-fire questions. He glanced over his shoulder as if he was making sure the coast was clear before he spoke. “I came to you because I need a storage unit,” he said simply. Then, he stepped closer and lowered his voice. “The truth is, I got into some trouble, and I have to serve thirty days in jail. I can’t keep my apartment while I’m in jail, so I need somewhere to put my stuff, and I need someone to watch him until I get out.”
I couldn’t hide the look of shock on my face upon hearing his words. “What kind of trouble are you in?” I nearly whispered.
He waved his hand dismissively. “It’s nothing major. Or it wouldn’t have been. But I missed my court date, and now I have to serve thirty days.”
“Okay,” I said slowly. I had no idea what to do. I’d wanted to have a relationship with him for years. Then, suddenly, he was standing in front of me asking for my help. I was afraid if I turned him down, I would blow my only opportunity. But still, I hesitated and floundered for something to say.
“So, why did I have to meet you out here? You could’ve come to the office or to the house.”
“I wasn’t sure if your grandparents were here. I know they don’t like my mom, so I assumed they didn’t care for me either.”
He wasn’t wrong. My grandparents despised our mother. I really didn’t know how they felt about him. I’d never been allowed to see my mother; therefore, I’d never been allowed to see him. But I’d assumed that was simply because he was her son, and I wouldn’t have been able to see him without seeing her.
“They’re not here,” I told him, instead of addressing his other requests. I was still trying to process those.
“Like I said, I’m in some trouble. I wanted it to look like I was here to check out a storage unit. Nothing more; nothing less. In case someone’s watching.”
“Who would be watching?”
“Blakely,” he said impatiently. “Are you going to help me or not?”
I sighed. “I have no problem letting you rent a storage unit. Will this one work?” I asked and gestured to the unit we were standing in front of.
“I don’t have any money.”
“Oh,” I said, realizing what he was actually asking. Or so I thought.
“And I’d prefer not to have it in my name,” he added.
“Why?” I asked, starting to feel uncomfortable with his request.
“I’d rather not say,” he said and dropped his head. With an audible exhale, he looked up and met my eyes. “I need a unit. And I need you to take care of my son. If you’re not going to help me, I need you to tell me now so I can figure out something else.”
“You need me to keep him for thirty days?”
“Yes,” he nodded. “Maybe a few days longer. I’m not sure if the sentence starts when I turn myself in or if they need a few days for processing.”
“What about the baby’s mother? Where’s she?” I asked.
“I don’t fucking know,” he spat and started to pace the empty space. “Here I am dealing with the biggest bullshit of my life when my ex leaves me with a baby I didn’t know about, says she doesn’t want to be a mom, and then she fucking disappeared! I’ve tried to find her, but I don’t have time to keep looking for her. If I don’t turn myself in on time, they’ll add more time to my sentence. Please, Blakely. There’s no one else but you.”
“What are you going to do if I say no?”
He shrugged and looked down at his son. “If you can’t take him, I guess I’ll have to drop him off at a police station or however you surrender a kid for foster care or whatever. That’s where he’ll end up if they have to come arrest me.”
He had no way of knowing, but his words were the perfect ones to say to get me to agree. Because I could’ve easily ended up in the system. My mother decided she didn’t want me not long after I was born and handed me over to my father. My father didn’t want me either, so he dropped me off at my grandparents’ house and never came back. Thankfully, Nana and Papa were more than willing to step up and take care of me. So, the moment he uttered the words “foster care,” my decision was made. There was no way I would stand by and watch an innocent child become a ward of the state when I was fully capable of taking care of him.
“I’ll do it,” I said vehemently. “I’ll keep him.”
“Thank you,” he breathed. “And don’t worry. No one would think to look for him here.”
My eyes widened at his words, but I managed to control my volume. “What is that supposed to mean? Who’s ‘no one’?”
“His mother,” he clarified. “I don’t know what kind of shit she was trying to pull when she dropped him off, but I’ve got shit going on too. So, if she changes her mind and wants to be a mother, she’ll have to wait until I have my shit wrapped up to see about getting her kid back.”
“What am I supposed to do if someone does come looking for him?”
