Chapter 9
A heavy clattering wakes me from my sleep, my eyelids heavy as I rub at them, groaning, and stuffing my face into the pillow. From the corner of my eyes, I find darkness out the window, wondering why my father would be up this late. Unless he left after I went to bed and is coming home now.
I ignore the stomping of his feet as they get near, yawning, attempting to fall back asleep. He bumps into something else with a groan, and that’s when the sound of a baby’s cry erupts.
I instantly sit up, turning on my bedside lamp, my heart racing. “What the…?”
Did I imagine it? I must’ve. Why would he have a baby? I shake my head. But just as I’m about to plop down onto the bed, my door swings open, and there he is, a soft bassinet in one hand, the kind for the floor, and a real-life baby in his other.
“Dad?” I yawn again as the baby wails. “What’s going on? Whose baby is that? Why do you have it?”
“Shut the fuck up, you little bastard!” He throws the bassinet on the floor beside my bed, placing the baby into it, a blue blanket wrapped haphazardly around his body.
The little one continues to cry, his little pink mouth curling pitifully. I swing my feet onto the floor, staring at him, not sure what to do. I’ve never held a baby before. What if I break him? Drop him?
“Why is he here?” I glance at my father. “Where are his parents?”
My dad crosses his arms and glares. “He’s mine.”
I freeze. “I’m sorry, what?” I’m sure I misunderstood.
“He’s my kid. He’s going to be living with us.”
No! No! No! He can’t live here.
“What?”
“You heard me,” he barks. “You know how much I hate it when you question me.”
“I don’t understand,” I continue. “Where’s his mom?”
“She’s in prison.”
“Prison?” This has got to be some kind of joke.
“Are you gonna repeat everything I say? Are you stupid or something?”
“Who will take care of him?” My father sure won’t. He doesn’t have a caring bone in his mean body.
“He’s your brother. You’re gonna take care of him.”
My brother? Oh my God. He’s my brother…assuming my father isn’t lying that this boy is actually his.
“Dad…” I grimace as the baby screams with all his might. “I’m only fifteen. I know nothing about babies. I can’t do this.”
“What the fuck is so hard? You feed it, change it, and put it to sleep. Stop acting like it’s damn complicated. Your great-grandma was fifteen when she had her first baby. You could learn a damn thing or two.”
“I don’t even know how to hold one,” I whisper, not sure if my father could hear me over the loud sobs of the little boy.
“Alison will help you,” he says of Ms. Greco. “I texted her already. She’ll see it in the morning before she comes over tomorrow.”
“What about food? Diapers?”
“I got that shit. It’s in the kitchen. One of my guys got everything his wife told him to get. Got some bottles and pacifiers to shut that kid up too.” He lifts a fist in the air. “You make sure he’s damn quiet when I’m home, you hear?”
And what if I can’t? I want to ask. Will you hurt him? My brows bow as I get off the bed, kneeling beside the baby, stroking his soft cheeks, and suddenly he stops crying. Just like that. This poor thing just wants someone’s touch. My heart, it aches.
You shouldn’t be here.
I reach for him, both arms cradling him as I tuck one beneath his tiny head, the other one around his butt, like in one of the books I’ve read, hoping I’m doing it right even as I try not to tremble.
I’ll take care of you, I promise.
“What’s his name?” I ask, unable to rip my gaze from this beautiful boy.
“Robby.”
“Nice to meet you, Robby.” I grin. “I’m your sister, Aida. And I’m gonna love you.”
“My guy is gonna give me his baby’s old crib and some other shit, so I’ll put it in here tomorrow.” I stop listening to him, focused on the new life in my arms.
He turns for the door.
“What if I need something?” I quickly ask. “What if I need help with him?”
“I don’t fucking know,” he spits out, his face twisting with a snarl. “Figure it out with Alison.”
He stalks out, slamming the door behind him, but Robby doesn’t pay him no mind. He falls asleep against my chest like nothing else matters.
“So you want to use the sponge gently on his head,” Ms. Greco explains the following day, both of us on the floor in the bathroom as she shows me how to give him a bath. Once my father brought the things for the baby, Ms. Greco and I organized it around the house.
“And you never ever touch the baby’s soft spot.” She gently runs a fingertip around it. “Right here.”
“Okay. Could I try washing him now?” I pivot to get more comfortable around the infant tub.
She hands me the sponge, and I go to work, squeezing some bodywash into it before rubbing it on Robby’s hair as he coos, his hands moving robotically.
“That’s great. That’s exactly how you do it. You’re a natural.” She smiles like she’s proud of me, like I’d imagine my mom would look at me if she were alive. Is it bad I wish Ms. Greco was actually my mother? I love her more than my own father.
“Thanks. I can’t even believe this. I have a brother.”
“I can’t believe it either,” she says quietly, sitting up on her knees as she watches me with him. “He seems to really like you.”
“He’s just so adorable. And he has the most beautiful blue eyes I’ve ever seen.”
“They’re pretty special.” She sighs as I drop the sponge at the corner of the tub.
“I’ll be there to help you in every way I can. You’re not alone in this.” She places a palm over my shoulder. “I’ll sleep over as much as I can when I’m not helping my mom.”
I nod, looking up at her, feeling the relief wash over me. Her mother isn’t well. She has diabetes. “Thanks. I can’t do this alone,” I breathe.
“No one can, especially a child. What he’s doing is wrong,” she whispers. “And I don’t believe for a moment this baby’s mother is in jail.”
My eyes widen. “You think he stole the baby?”
“It’s your father after all.”
My pulse pounds. “Oh my God. That’s awful if it’s true.”
“I know. But knowing him, I don’t expect any different.”
Once we’re done washing Robby, she carefully scoops him up while I grab the towel from the counter.
“You ready?” she asks, moving him toward me, my heart hammering as I get ready to hold him against me, nervous I may drop him in this position.
But as soon as he’s in my arms, I wrap the towel around him, and place him gently over my chest.
“You’re doing great,” Ms. Greco reassures as I caress his back, his little head against my shoulder, making my heart explode. He doesn’t make a sound, just lies there, like he’s content to be with me. Like I’m somehow special, which I’m not. Maybe he just doesn’t realize it yet.
We head for my bedroom, placing him on my bed as Ms. Greco grabs one of his one-piece pajamas from the closet.
She helps me dress him, lifting his head when I’m too afraid to do it myself. But I’ll have to get used to it. She won’t always be here. With the bottle already made and sitting on my nightstand, I pick him up, cradling him like the first time.
He sucks on the bottle, looking up at me, staring sweetly the entire time, his body small and fragile. This perfect baby has got to be one of the unluckiest. Because to end up here, you have to be.
MATTEO - AGE 15
When she visits me today, she isn’t alone. In her arms is a baby named Robby and all I do is stare. Compared to us, he’s so small. Too small for a place like this.
“I don’t get it. How the hell did he get the baby?” My eyes are unable to look anywhere but at him, curled in her arms with a dinosaur shirt which snaps around his diaper.
“His mom is supposedly in prison and my dad’s the father.”
I shake my head, huffing out a breath. “You can’t keep him here, Aida. They’ll hurt him. You know that. He’s too damn small to defend himself.”
She tilts up her chin. “I’ll defend him.”
“Aida…” What do I say that she doesn’t already know? That she’s just a kid herself? That if her father wanted to kill them both, he could in a second?
“He’s my brother, Matteo. What else can I do? It’s not like I can pawn him off to someone safer. He’s stuck with us, as bad as that is.”
I release a long sigh. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” Her brows knit as she takes a step closer, standing over me.
“You’re sure your dad didn’t steal him or something?” It wouldn’t shock me if he killed some family and stole the kid.
“I hope not, but that’s what Ms. Greco thinks.” She rocks Robby in her arms, her golden hair swaying as she hums “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star,” those hazel eyes glimmering in the sparkle of the light above.
“Can I hold him?” I ask, which is probably stupid. Why would I want to hold a baby? But he’s just so damn cute.
“Umm…” Her gaze widens.
“I promise, I won’t break him.” I chuckle. It’s adorable how protective she is of him already, even while only having him a day.
“Okay.” She clears her throat, biting into the inside of her lower lip. “Make sure you secure his head, just like I am.” She kneels so I can see better. “And also, hold him under his legs.”
“I think I got it.” I smile, loving how cute she is when she’s serious.
“Okay.” But she still doesn’t hand me the baby, her gaze darting between us, like at any second, she’s gonna bolt.
“Aida, I don’t have to hold him if you don’t want me to.”
“No, no, it’s fine.” She giggles nervously. “I’m being too much of an annoying big sis, isn’t that right, Robby?” She lowers him into my arms. “I think we’ll be okay if Matteo holds you for a minute.”
“Maybe two minutes?” I tease.
“Ha, ha.” She rolls her eyes mockingly.
“Hey there, buddy,” I say, my eyes now wandering over this small thing in my arms. “How you doing in this crazy world?”
He yawns in response, his little fingers spreading out before forming a fist. He’s going to need that fist to survive here.
“I’ll protect him too, Aida.” I look to her with all the promise in my eyes. “I swear.”
“Pinky swe—”
“Pinky swear.” I grin as I curl our fingers together in a vow that I have every intention of keeping.