Two years later
"Bar tonight, big bro?" Ford, my younger brother asks leaning on my doorframe. I'm arm deep in baby shit. Who does he think he's talking to?
"Dude, grab me that box of wipes." I point to the changing table all the while trying to wrestle clothes off this one year old. Who would have thought babies could be so strong?
Ford laughs and tosses the box on the floor next to me.
"So that's a yes?" He kneels on the floor next to Carter and starts attempting to help by distracting him.
"That's a no. No sitter, you know this." I manage to finish wrapping this child in a diaper and forgo the pants. It's easier this way and he's ready to be set free.
"Lame. Mom and Dad would do it, you know." He tosses a ball at my child like he's a dog and the kid goes running after it. Yes, running. At fifteen months. He's nonstop.
I look at him and still remember the day the girl shoved him in my arms like it was yesterday. It's been fifteen months with this tiny ninja and though the day it happened I was sure that was the end of my life, I now know this is how I was meant to live. A single dad in my parents’ rental house, making ends meet, but just barely.
"I use them for babysitting every day I'm at work, Ford. I can't ask them for more."
"What about Reagan?" Reagan our younger sister is a socialite who loves her nephew but I'm not certain she's down for babysitting on a Thursday night.
"Yea," I chuckle at the same time Ford boasts a laugh that startles Carter.
"Listen. I'll see if I can get a sitter tomorrow night. Deal?" I say, picking Carter up.
"I'm holding you to that." He kisses his nephew on the cheek and heads out, leaving the two of us alone.
"Well little man. Looks like it's just us." I wiggle him on my hip and he laughs.
God this boy is my world. The day he was shoved into my life, though, it was much different.
"What?" I snap, swinging open the door. Finals have taken all of my patience recently so whoever this is, is getting an earful. One more semester of college and I’m finally done. I’d rather not be bothered right now though.
"Here. It's yours." The woman in a black hoodie pulled so far over her eyes I can't even see her face clearly, shoves a fluffy blue blanket at me and tosses a bag on the ground before she bolts. And by bolts, I mean literally runs at marathon speed down the block until she's gone and all I'm left with is whatever she just put in my arms.
I furrow my brows and look down, almost dropping it.
A baby?
"What…what the fuck?" I stumble backwards and have to sit down on the steps in my foyer before I pass out. "A baby?" I whisper to no one.
This thing couldn't be more than a day or two old it’s so tiny. I pick myself up and walk up to my bed, lying it on the soft comforter before unwrapping it slowly, afraid I'm going to break it.
It. It’s a fucking human.
She said mine? My human?
I knocked a chick up?
The baby, a boy from the looks of things, starts to cry and shake so I wrap him tight in the blanket and pick him up, slowly rocking him back and forth and soothing him until he’s asleep.
Then, I grab my phone and call the one person I know will help.
“Mom?” I whimper.
“Oh my, Linc, what’s wrong?”
“I think I may have a problem.” I keep shuffling around, making sure this baby stays asleep, while I tell my mom the story. “Mom his belly button is still attached to that cord…thing.”
“Lincoln Ames West, you get that baby to a hospital, right now. I’m catching the next flight out. We will figure this out.” She hangs up and I stare down at the bundle in my arms.
A bundle that’s bound to ruin lots of hopes and dreams.
Of course I attempted claiming it wasn’t mine but the odds were against me from the start when they asked how many women I’d been sexually active with without protection and my answer was damn near the triple digits. What can I say; I used to be a wild one.
The minute the results from the paternity test came back my fate was permanently sealed.
At twenty-one, I was a single father and my child had no trace of a mother.
My parents wanted to sue all the hospitals around to search for this baby’s mom but I stopped them after the first lawyer bill came in and I reassured them I could do it alone. I’d finish school and come home to work for them. I’d do the single dad thing because I didn’t have a choice.
I have an innocent life depending on it.
So that’s our story. Me and Carter. It definitely costs more to finish college with a baby in tow, obviously. You can’t keep a baby in the dorms and no one wanted to be a roommate with a dude that had a screaming kid at two am. There were times the sitter flaked and I had to bring him to class with me. Carter quickly became a part of me. He went everywhere with me and people expected to see him. He even walked across the stage with me at graduation. He and I are a team, and though he’s still just a baby (yea, yea, some people call them toddlers but I can’t let go of his baby phase yet), he’s probably my best friend. Is that sad?
I don’t think so. He’s a great kid, honestly I think he saved me. I was on the fast track to living life as a douchebag. I know it. Him coming into my life was the saving grace I needed to be grounded back down to earth. Carter’s taught me there’s more to life than being good looking.
Though it definitely helps.
After getting Carter down for his afternoon nap I fall to the couch, absolutely exhausted. This week at work has been hell. Honestly I love this job, I do, but sometimes working for the family business sucks. Days when overtime is needed for everyone, I can’t use the excuse of needing to relieve the sitter because the sitter is my mom and she knows how much the overtime is needed. I do what I do for my family. All of them.
What do I do? Well, my family owns West House, one of the most prestigious banquet homes in town. It’s said Lincoln even stayed in one of our guest homes back in the day. We live in Springfield, Illinois and yes, I was named after Abraham Lincoln. To say my parents are history nerds is like saying the sun’s going to rise tomorrow. Ever since I can remember my parents have been pushing history on us, hence why the three of us are pretty big history enthusiasts ourselves. It's engrained in us as deep down as our names so it only made sense to me when it came time to giving that tiny blue bundle two years ago a name I knew what it would be.
Carter.
So yes, my parents own one of the houses that Lincoln visited quite often, set just a block and a half away from the home that he lived in with his wife Mary. The West House has been passed down generation to generation, each keeping its spirit alive while providing the tourists what they want to see… History. History of where Lincoln sat, what he did when he visited. Back in the day it was a sports club of sorts, but it’s since been turned into the place to be when you have an event in the city or if you need a nice place to cool off during your touristy days here, so while I’m not technically a celebrity- around these parts I kind of feel like it when I’m inside the West House. I hate it at times, not being able to go places in town without people knowing my parents, or me but it’s nice knowing so many people have our backs when needed. Also, fun fact, I know more useless information on the presidents of the United States, namely Lincoln, so I’m in pretty high demand when it comes to trivia nights.
At two Carter gets up from his nap ready to go and we spend the rest of the day playing outside. This is what our weekends are like. Just me and him, and every now and then my brother or sister comes over. Sometimes we’ll all go over to our parents’ house but with my dad so busy with the West House renovations they’re rarely home anymore on the weekends.
Once I finally get him in bed for the night I crack open a beer and kick back in the recliner. It's end of the year field trip season and The West House is always a stop on most school's trips, mainly because our outside rotunda area provides a great place for the classes to eat their lunch but the tours have been amping up lately, too. I'm just flat out exhausted and honestly love spending some down time like this. It's not that I don’t want to go out with my brother, but I really am happier to just stay in. Dealing with a hangover and a baby isn't the most fun thing to do. I learned that the hard way.
I hit the power on the TV remote but don’t even get five minutes into my episode of The 100 before my eyes start to get heavy. I should move to my bed, but this chair is calling me to stay right where I am.
I jolt awake at the screams coming from Carter’s room and catch my breath before pulling myself out of the chair I fell asleep in.
I pick him up and hush his tears, gently bouncing around the room before getting to work. I do the typical parent nighttime diaper blowout routine, I guess. New diaper. Fresh outfit and sheets as fast as I can. Bottle and back to bed. I've got this down to a thirty-minute process and I'm pretty proud of it. Some may call it a long time, but hey, I'm doing this alone here.
As I walk to my bed I glance at my phone that's lighting up on the table in the living room and swipe it up.
Little Bro: Lots of cute girls tonight, dude.
Little Bro: U no hang?
Little Bro: jutes pejjian its
Attached to the last one is a selfie…I think? It's too blurry to make anything out. I open the final image and laugh to myself.
Little Sis: Our brother’s drunk. Ignore whatever he says about the guy I danced with. I took his phone too…and ur lame for not coming with us
I shake my head and plug my phone in, heading straight for my bedroom. With any luck I can get about two more hours of sleep before Carter wakes up for the day.
A couple years ago I would have jumped on the chance to get smashed with them and find the first girl I could screw wherever I could. Now? I couldn’t tell you the last time I had sex.
As soon as I lay my head on my pillow, not twenty minutes after laying him back down to sleep, I hear him start to wrestle around in his crib. I flip on the video of the monitor and watch as he, for the third night in a row, attempts to climb out of crib. The longer I watch the more pissed the little ninja gets. I sigh and rub my face, glancing at the clock.
Four a.m.
I mean it could be worse.
Crawling out of the bed that I finally laid down in, I head for the kitchen first to start the coffee pot before heading into Carter’s room. Lately I’ve been pulling a lot of weekend shifts, helping run the tours and today’s no different. Luckily today, I can bring Carter in with me and hopefully get out of there early.
Needless to say, it’s going to be a long day. I can’t wait until we get our summer help hired on and I can finally have my weekends free again.
Not that I have much of a social life. Having a toddler has really put a damper on my social life.
I figure maybe seventeen…eighteen more years and I can start having one again.