20

Dash

April 2018

“Are you sure he’s only three months old?” Janine’s mother asks as she softly bounces little Brandon in her arms. Unable to walk, she reclines on two large pillows now. Next to her bed is a complex system of machines, all regulating and monitoring vitals. There is a constant and rotating staff of nurses here. It’s the very best money can buy, though I know Janine still wishes she could just stay with her mother at her mother’s house. Right now, the grin lighting up her face is so warm and bright, it eclipses the shadowy bags beneath her eyes. “He is so big!”

“That’s probably because he drinks so much milk,” Janine says, sitting on the stool by her mother’s bed.

Mrs. Davidson looks at me. “He looks just like you, Dash.”

I put my hands in my pockets as I shrug, standing a few feet away. “Janine says that all the time.”

“Because it’s true,” she says, stroking Brandon’s hair.

“See. Even your Mom and my Mom think so.”

Well, Brandon does have the color of my hair and eyes – sandy blonde and bluish gray – and my mother says he even has my nose. I don’t know. I guess I just find the idea of another person looking like me baffling.

“Don’t worry,” Mrs. Davidson places her hand over Janine’s. “I’m sure when you have a daughter, she will look just like you.”

“Oh. I’m not thinking of having another child just yet,” Janine answers, sitting up. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

She glances at me but I say nothing.

“Well, I’m sure this one has your strength and your courage.” Mrs. Davidson presses Brandon close to her chest. “And hopefully, my good behavior.” Janine crosses her arms over her chest.

I frown, going closer to them. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you were quite the rebel, weren’t you?” she quips, turning towards me. “You didn’t like your parents and you didn’t like school. I remember.”

I tuck my thumbs into the back waistband of my pants. “I liked my parents. We just didn’t agree all the time. As for school, well, you and I both know I don’t like following orders or working in groups.”

“Yes, everyone knows,” Janine agrees, turning back to her mother and Brandon. “Did you hear that, darling?” She holds Brandon’s hand. “Daddy likes making his own rules and following his own path and so will you.” She kisses his hand. “But not until you’re eighteen.”

“Twenty,” I say.

Janine’s mother laughs. “Oh, I can already imagine the two of you raising this boy.” She looks at him lovingly. “You are so lucky, Brandon. You have good parents.”

I lift one hand, stroking my chin.

I’m not so sure.

After all, I can’t even quite believe that I’m a parent now.

Just then, Brandon starts to cry. My hands extend as I take a step closer to him, driven by some strong natural instinct.

“What’s wrong, darling?” Janine gets off her stool and crowds her mother’s bed as well.

“Shh.” Mrs. Davidson rocks her grandson. “It’s alright, dear. It’s alright.”

He keeps crying.

“I think he’s hungry.”

Janine takes him from her mother’s arms and sits down.

She’s about to push her blouse aside but stops. “What’s wrong?” I ask her, touching her shoulder.

“I left my shawl in the car,” she tells me, rocking Bran- don, who has stopped crying, snuggling against her.

“You don’t need a shawl here,” her mother says. “And I left my pillow, too,” Janine adds.

“Here.” Mrs. Davidson tries to move her body forward and grab a pillow from behind her.

“No, Mom.” Janine stops her. “It’s fine. I have a special pillow.”

“I’ll get it,” I offer, heading towards the door.

“Dash, before you go,” Mrs. Davidson calls out to me. “I would like to speak with you.”

I turn around.

“I’ll get the things.” Janine walks towards me. “I can feed in the car too.”

I hand her the car keys.

I watch her leave the room and as soon as she’s gone, I turn to Mrs. Davidson, who gestures for me to sit on the stool Janine just vacated.

I go and sit.

“Is something wrong, Olivia?” I ask her, putting my hands on my lap.

“You know exactly what’s wrong,” she answers, sighing as she rests her head on the pillows. “I’m not going to be around much longer. You can see it. I can feel it.”

“Don’t say that,” I tell her, leaning forward and holding her hand.

She shakes her head, placing her hand over mine. “But you’re the only one I can say it to. I can’t tell Janine. She just gave birth! She’s still adjusting to life as a new mother.”

I nod and bow my head, understanding.

She squeezes my hand. “I don’t need to ask you to promise that you’ll be a good father to my grandson. I can tell that you will be.”

I look at her. “Thank you.”

She rubs my hand with her thumb. “But I want you to promise me that when I go…” Her voice quivers. “You will remind Janine that Brandon needs her. Tell her that life goes on…” She pauses to take a deep breath and her voice regains its strength. “And that she must be strong. She can cry… but I won’t have her sulk. You tell her. That’s what I want.”

“I’ll tell her,” I promise, placing my other hand over hers. “And you,” she continues. “Take care of her. With the new baby… she’s going to forget to take care of herself. You have to be there for her. You have to help her. Because I won’t be here.”

I nod, looking at her hand.

She places it on her stomach. “I took care of her for thirty-one years, you know. And every year, I got back more and more from loving her.” She looks at me. “Now it’s your turn.”

“I understand, Olivia.” I place my hands on my lap. “I promise I will look after her.”

“Good.” Mrs. Davidson reaches out to rub my shoulder. “You’re a good man.”

I pat her hand, smiling. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ve got her.”