Chapter 4
four
YOUR CHILD
ASA
Dallas
WTF, Asa. You had a baby with Gemma?
Blake
[surprised face emoji] [thinking face emoji] [confused face emoji]
Dallas
Were you drunk?
Dallas
I need to know the details.
Blake
What details? Insert dick here.
Dallas
I knew they were fucking.
Dexter
You’re putting ten on two, DD.
Bliss
Can you please not do this right now?
Dallas
Did you know, Sissy?
Blake
Which Sissy, Dallas?
Dallas
Tyn!
Big Sis
. . .
Dallas
ANSWER the question, Tyn.
Big Sis
If I did, you will never know.
Blake
She knew. [laughing emoji]
Dallas
Demi, did you know?
Demi
[face with rolling eyes emoji]
Dexter
Who told you?
Dallas
Overheard Mom talking to Ana about it.
Bliss
Seriously, this is the wrong time for this.
Dallas
I still want to know how Tyn knew and we didn’t.
Dexter
Why are we talking about this right now? It’s midnight, Dallas.
Duke
I swear, I’m blocking all y’all muthafuckas.
Dallas
I’m not the one who had a secret baby!
Dallas
Or many secret babies.
Tristan
How did I even get in this group chat?
Dallas
Because I added you back.
Yesterday 12: 16 AM
Tristan has left the conversation.
Bliss
I’m sorry, Asa. [sad face emoji]
Each of my siblings had reached out separately yesterday to check on me. All of them offered support in some way, even if it was listening to me breathe over the line. I appreciated them for that.
Shit hit the fan sometime during the night, though. More than one hundred text messages were waiting for me when I woke up. I didn’t have time for this shit.
I felt pain in every muscle, every nerve, and every bone. Almost like someone had drilled holes through my body.
It didn’t feel real.
Last night, I checked my phone countless times, hoping to see a text from Gemma, knowing I never would again. Next to me, Ezra stirred, kicked his little legs out of the blanket.
When I looked at him, his eyes popped open and he smiled, kicking vigorously. He looked like her. Brown skin, expressive eyes, contagious smile . . .
The truth was I willingly agreed to be Gemma’s donor.
I knew I would be seeing Ezra often throughout his life, and I did it anyway.
For her.
We’d set boundaries. Separate legal counsel, a signed contract before the donation establishing intent, parental rights and responsibilities, confidentiality, future disclosure expectations, and other things. And we used a licensed fertility clinic.
She trusted me to be myself at all times, which meant she believed that I could detach myself from him.
And I did.
After Ezra was born, I felt the same way I did for my nieces and nephews.
Like an uncle. Like a person watching someone else’s child grow up.
I was in the room with her when she gave birth, too.
Not as his father, but as her person. I’d seen him countless times since then.
But I never expected to have to take care of him.
I never even wanted to. In my wildest dreams, in all the potential scenarios, I never thought Gemma would die at thirty-five and leave him without a mother.
She left me, too.
Over the last twenty-four hours, I alternated between complete despair and anger at her for not taking her health seriously. She was notoriously behind on her physicals. She made excuses for not taking her medications. She joked about being allergic to working out.
Now, she was dead.
Gone because she didn’t listen to me when I told her to go to the emergency room. Instead, she went home. To die.
Ezra rolled onto his stomach, and lifted himself on his arms. When he saw me, he let out a delighted squeal and fell against the mattress.
Paityn had offered to take him with her when she left, but I couldn’t let him go.
Before she left, though, I gave her permission to tell my parents because I didn’t want them to find out another way.
I knew Ma would tell Ana, because my godmother had already made it clear that she wanted Ezra to live with them.
Then Dallas’s ass couldn’t wait to spill the news in the family group chat.
And Rissa . . .
When the truth came out, she pulled back. Physically and mentally. Moments before that, we’d been wrapped in each other. Things had seemingly shifted between us. So much so that I was two seconds from telling her I wanted more than hook ups every few months, that I was falling for her.
Or that I loved her.
I glanced over at my phone, noticing the new text from my mother. My parents had checked on me every other hour. Sometimes quick texts letting me know they loved me. And other times, they’d forwarded scriptures that should’ve comforted me during trying times.
Ma
Son, I’m here if you need me. Your father and I are coming tomorrow.
Instead of responding, I turned the phone off. I shot a sideways glance at Ezra, who was happily eating his fist, and picked him up.
“Come on, lil man.”
He smacked my face, stuck his tongue out, and blew spit at me.
“Aw, man.” I wiped my cheeks. “Don’t do me like that. You know I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”
I knew how to change a diaper, but it took a few minutes to figure out how to make a damn bottle. After hours of crying, he finally fell asleep—on my chest—sometime after two in the morning. Then, I spent an hour searching for baby shit.
Things to do when a baby sounds like he’s drowning in his own spit up.
Should I feed a baby more than once an hour?
Buy pacifiers near me.
What happens if a baby eats a piece of lint?
Symptoms of an ear infection.
Why did the baby scream at the top of his lungs?
How do you put a baby to sleep?
If I ignore the baby, will it be okay?
Exiting my room, I scanned the living space. The kitchen looked like a disaster area, powdered formula everywhere, a crusty bib on the counter, one sock on the floor and an empty distilled water container in the sink.
The living room wasn’t much better—toys littering the floor, a bouncy thing near the couch, clothes scattered on a chair, and the pack-n-play box in the corner, throw pillows on the treadmill. Bringing it with me was a waste of time though, because Ezra cried every single time I set him in there.
I thought Gemma was being overly dramatic when she told me he wouldn’t sleep away from her.
Now I understood what she meant. That boy was like Velcro.
When he was awake, he followed my movements like a hawk.
When he was eating, his hand gripped my finger like a lifeline.
When he slept, he wrapped his arm around my neck like he never wanted to let me go.
And every time he looked at me, he smiled.
Almost like he knew who I was.
After I made his bottle, I propped him up on a pillow and let him have at it while I cleaned up.
A few minutes later, I gave up and plopped on the couch. “What the hell am I doing?”
Ezra gurgled and milk spilled from his mouth.
“Shit.” I looked around for something to wipe him off, but in the end, I used my sleeve. Once I cleared the spit up from his chin, I handed him the bottle again and ordered more bibs and burp cloths.
Resting my head against the couch, I closed my eyes. “This isn’t going to work.”
Ezra needed his mother.
I needed his mother, too.
The situation was complicated, which made Ezra’s future uncertain.
Jax and Ana wanted him, but even Ana thought it would be difficult to chase a toddler at their age.
Besides, they were living their best retirement lives.
They’d raised their son and helped to raise Gemma.
What the hell would they do with a six-month-old baby?
What would I do? My job was where my clients were. I traveled more than half of the month. My life wasn’t set up for a kid. There were two sets of steep ass stairs in my condo. Recently, I’d renovated my house and transformed my second bedroom into a home gym. I had no yard.
Could I do anything? I’d signed my rights away a long time ago. The contract was clear. I had no legal authority to make decisions for him.
But . . . Gemma devoted her life to Ezra. The thought of him going to a foster home while they sorted out custody wasn’t going to work for me.
Grabbing my phone, I scrolled my contacts until I saw Demi’s name.
She practiced family law like Dallas, but unlike my sister, Demi was familiar with California law.
No doubt, she would know what to do. Knowing her, she would develop contingency plans for every worst-case scenario.
After all, they called her The Divorce Whisperer because she won nearly impossible cases for her clients.
The sound of someone punching in a code on the digital keypad drew my attention to the door. Seconds later, Duke entered the house carrying a paper bag full of food.
He smiled, walking straight into the kitchen. “What’s up, bruh?”
Dex was right behind him, only he didn’t say anything. He simply emptied the box of baby stuff he’d brought with him.
Before I could ask any questions, Tristan stepped into the house with more bags. “I told you not to buy so much food, Duke. You’re not feeding a damn army.” My big brother looked at me. “You good?”
My throat burned with unshed tears as my brothers started doing shit. Dex picked up a broom while Duke started breakfast.
Tristan cleared the ottoman and sat in front of me. “Sometimes it’s hard to see a future through the pain,” he said. “You’re like me. You hold shit in until you break. But we got you.”
I squeezed my eyes shut.
“Gemma loved you,” he continued. “She would want you to live a good life without her. And she wouldn’t want you to beat yourself up for any perceived slight.”
My eyes flashed to him. I hadn’t mentioned to anyone but Rissa how I felt about curving Gemma since I’d been in town. Somehow, Tristan knew. Without me saying a word. He was good like that.
I glanced at Duke, who gave me a single, almost imperceptible nod as he scrambled eggs. He knew, too. Over in the corner, Dex pressed his fist over his heart, something he’d done when I was a kid and I needed to know someone had my back.
Tristan squeezed my knee. “More than that, Gemma knew you weren’t perfect, but you have to know . . . you were perfect enough for her.” He eyed Ezra. “Enough for her to trust you with her biggest secret. Enough for her to let you be a permanent part of her journey. And his.”
Finally, the tears fell.
“And you don’t have to explain shit to nobody or justify your decisions,” Duke added. “Not to Dallas, not to Ma and Dad, or any muthafucka with an opinion.”
Dexter approached us. “The next few days are about you taking the time you need to say goodbye to Gemma. However that looks.”
“If you need me to block access to this house, say the word,” Duke said. “This is my shit and I don’t care who it is. If you don’t want to be bothered, that’s it.”
I stared at Ezra. He’d fallen asleep seconds ago. “What am I supposed to do?” I asked, taking the empty bottle from his hand. “I don’t want to let her down.”
“Do you know what Gemma’s last wishes are?” Tristan asked.
I nodded.
While I was at Gemma’s house, I grabbed her important papers from the safe with the intent of handing them over to Dallas or Demi. But when I saw an envelope with my name in Gemma’s messy scribble, I opened it.
“She wrote a letter,” I said, pulling the crumpled piece of paper from my pocket. Just like last night, overwhelming sadness welled up inside me as I silently read her words again.
Asa,
This is going to sound like one of those corny letters that people read when someone dies. Usually, it starts with “if you’re reading this, I’m dead.”
Well, if you’re reading this, I’m dead.
Ya’ know, I never thought about dying until I had Ezra. Because I don’t have any living relatives and I want him to be set. But then I got to thinking … That’s not true. I do have family. You’re my family. You’re the most important person in my life. Outside of Ezra, of course.
Here’s the thing. I’m gonna keep this short because your attention span sucks.
But you have made my life better. Yes, Jax and Ana have been there for me and I’m eternally grateful to them.
But you? You’re everything. You took pity on me and let me tag along on your mission to find yourself.
I saw the world with you. I had fun and felt loved because of you.
Nothing romantic, because yuck. That kiss all those years ago still haunts me to this day.
Yet, when it counted, you were there. You gave me the best gift I could’ve hoped for. My son.
I hope you’re reading this after Ezra is an adult with kids of his own. If you’re not, if my baby is still young, I want you to take him.
I love Ana. I love Jax. But you’re not just his uncle.
You’re his father. If I’m not here, I want him to have someone.
I want him to have a parent, because I know what it’s like not to have one.
And I know it’s not going to be easy. We signed a contract.
But, shit, fight for him. Like you would fight for me.
That’s it. My final wish.
Don’t be mad at me for leaving you. I promise it wasn’t on purpose.
I love you. More than anyone. (Except Ezra. lol)
Please take care of our baby.
Love, Gemma
I set the letter on the ottoman, but Tristan made no move to pick it up. “She wants me to raise him.” I stood and paced the room. “And all I can think about is why the fuck did she leave me?” I broke down crying. “Why did she have to die, man? I’m not ready to live in a world without her.”
Duke pulled me into a hug, placing his hand on my head.
Soon, Dex and Tristan joined him, wrapping their arms around me.
Then I cried for my friend, for the person who accepted me completely, for the person who never held a grudge when I was an asshole, for the friend who made me laugh when I wanted to cry, for the woman who made every other woman work harder to get my attention.
And for the son who would never know what it felt like to be loved by her.
She was the shit.
“I’m gonna miss her,” I whispered.
“I know, man,” Duke said. “But we’re here for you.”
“No matter what,” Dex added.
Tristan squeezed my shoulder. “Every damn day for the rest of your life.”
And for the first time since I’d seen Gemma’s lifeless body in that hospital bed, I felt peace. Because I knew for sure everything was going to be alright.