Krissy
I turned my face towards the sunshine, soaking in the warm rays. Summer in Michigan is beautiful, the weather warm and balmy, a breeze from nearby Lake Erie making the grass flutter. I watched as squirrels hopped from tree to tree, birds chirping above. Annie gurgled, her chubby hand reaching towards the animals.
“Birds, squirrel,” I cooed, pointing out the difference. The baby laughed and smiled, waving her little arms frantically.
It’s been a long six months. I’d given birth during the harsh winter of Michigan, the labor and delivery so painful that I hurt for months afterwards. I hadn’t really wanted to see the baby, my body and my heart sore. But when the nurse put her on my lap, I felt myself soften … and give way. Annie opened her eyes and blinked at me with a coo and a gurgle, and I was lost.
There’s no one I love more in the world than my baby girl, with the sweetest blue eyes and black hair. I never thought that having a child would be so profound, like having your heart beating outside of your body. But it’s amazing, while being terrible at the same time because at odd instances, Annie will remind me of her fathers.
It’s her blue eyes, the way they sparkle brightly, like jewels. And the deep black hair, so inky that it’s like soot. Plus, even her baby personality is like her dads – she can be impossible at times, refusing to sleep unless I rock her, much the same way Tyler and Troy could be stubbornly insistent on getting their way.
But everything’s gone off the rails because I haven’t seen Troy and Tyler for almost a year now. They haven’t forgotten about me exactly. The checks come every month, and they’re generous, more than enough to support a single woman with a child in Little Prairie. But they’ve never come themselves, never made an effort to see their daughter, and we never hear from them either. No phone calls, no letters, no skype, no nothing. I wish I knew what was going on. But my efforts to reach them are always rebuffed.
“I’m sorry, Tyler Lyon isn’t available,” their secretary said.
“How about Troy Lyon then?” I’d asked hopefully.
“I’m sorry, neither of them are available, I apologize if I didn’t make that more clear,” repeated the secretary.
“Oh I see,” I said, hanging up with a gentle click. After a few weeks, I’d given up. And my brothers had long since switched cell numbers, for fear of harassment.
But all that’s long since over. Governor Haley resigned from his position, the public spotlight shifting to the latest corruption in Albany. Which was good, because it meant that the focus was off of my brothers, off of their business enterprises and the prostitution ring they’d run at Club Luxe. So why hadn’t I heard from them?
I sighed, and pulled my baby closer. I wasn’t sure what was next in life. I’ve been treading water, letting my body recover after pregnancy, focusing on taking care of myself and my daughter. But I’m alone, and it’s scary being nineteen with a baby. The woman I’d stayed with initially, the one Troy and Tyler had hooked me up with, turned out to be witchy and evil.
“The mother doesn’t condone what you’ve done,” she said, eyeing my belly when I was pregnant.
I was confused. What mother? What was she talking about?
“The Earth Mother knows,” she said ominously, swinging an incense censer, blowing smoke my way. I clapped my hand over my nose, afraid of harming my fetus. I mean, I know that it was probably harmless plant material, but you couldn’t be too careful. And her insinuations became untenable.
Minerva (as she called herself), continued to give me dirty looks, focused on my belly, her comments growing more pointed.
“The Earth Mother knows that that child was conceived out of sin,” she murmured, making a warding gesture.
I’d gasped. Did Minerva know that my brothers were the fathers of my child? How would she know? There was no one who would have told her … or so I thought.
But instead of trying to solve the mystery, I moved out asap. I rented a tiny saltbox of a house near the lake, and hauled garbage bags full of stuff to the new digs, heaving and panting with my big belly in the way.
And shit, it was fucking hard. After a day of moving, I’d sat on one of the garbage bags and cried, hot tears rolling down my cheeks. I cursed my brothers for leaving me, and yet at the same time, missed them desperately. I needed their warm arms, their big bodies, their comforting words, and instead, I was in Michigan, alone and eight months pregnant, about to deliver their child.
Even if they’d gotten off scot free with respect to the Haley trial, where did that leave me? The trial was over now, so why was I still alone?