Chapter 6
six
BOYS TO MEN
ASA
Yesterday was rough, but seeing my brothers gave me perspective. They stayed with me for the entire day. We played Madden, drank a fifth of tequila, ate good food . . . It was everything I needed.
This morning, my parents arrived. My mother hugged me so tight I thought I couldn’t breathe. Dad had to pry her away from me. Then, he clasped my shoulder and told me he loved me.
More people showed up this afternoon. I had more than enough food, but people brought fried chicken, Chinese food, pasta from Olive Garden, and all kinds of salads. Which Duke promptly threw out.
The soft ocean breeze through the window carried the light scent of salt water mixed with apple-wood smoke, spices, grilled meat, and mint.
My brother had been on the grill for hours, slow-cooking spareribs, burgers, hot dogs, and other barbecue dishes.
Duke was a celebrity chef. He’d won contests, opened restaurants, catered events, and reluctantly, became a social media influencer. When he was around, we ate good.
I wasn’t hungry, though. My mind wouldn’t cooperate with my stomach. And because my mother wasn’t one to take no for an answer, she’d practically shoved a dry-ass piece of peanut butter toast in my mouth for breakfast. When she wasn’t looking, I spit it out.
On any other day, I would’ve eaten two full meals by now—high protein, whole foods, moderate carbs, and healthy fats.
Instead of my morning run, I’d watched a stupid reality show.
Today was leg day, but I hadn’t done squats, lunges, leg curls, or any of the exercises I would typically do.
No sets, no reps. Just the bed, my TV, and my thoughts.
Rissa hadn’t called or stopped by since Karma dropped Ezra off. But she’d texted me earlier.
Rissa
Checking in. Do you need anything?
I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t respond.
It was probably for the best. My life was about to change drastically. When we started this thing, I was single. No kids, free time. Freedom. I wouldn’t blame her if she’d decided she couldn’t hang.
“What made you say yes?”
I glanced at the door, where Dallas stood, arms folded over her chest.
She’d flown in with Demi, drove to the house, gave me a tight hug, then promptly started telling people what to do while Demi made several calls to her contacts at the courthouse.
Since I didn’t want to be bothered, I’d closed myself off in the bedroom.
Ezra was out there with the rest of the family being spoiled by Bliss and my mother. Everyone, except Blake who’d stayed back with her toddler battling an ear infection, was here.
Dallas approached the bed and sat on a chair near the window. “Don’t worry. I’m not here to badger you like a witness on the stand. I won’t lecture you and I’m sorry about the group chat. But I am curious.”
I asked myself that question every day for months, before we went to the fertility center, throughout Gemma’s pregnancy, and after she had the baby.
I told myself the same things I’d told myself when I donated the first time.
And every time after that. That her baby would be mine biologically, but it wouldn’t be my child.
That he would be my blood, but I wouldn’t be his father.
That I was doing something good for someone else. This time, for someone I loved.
In reality, my reason was simple. So simple that I didn’t realize it until Gemma died. “Because she asked,” I admitted. “She trusted me, and I trusted her. I knew she would keep it a secret. We always kept each other’s secrets.”
She flashed a sad smile. “I know. Asa, I’m sorry about Gemma.”
“You already told me that.”
“Yeah, but . . . I’m here. Not in a text, not on the phone. I want you to know I’m so proud of you. You get on my nerves, though. Especially when you play around about Secret Santa, but you know I love you.”
“Love you, too.” I chuckled. “But you know I can’t stand that Secret Santa shit.”
“Well, there are eight of us. And most of us have partners and kids . . . Shit, I would be buying gifts the whole year if we didn’t do this. It’s not hard to pull one and stick to a budget.”
“True.”
“Anyway,”—she placed a hand on my leg—“I love you. I’m here for you. And I’m going to do what I can to make the legal stuff easier for you.”
“I had no doubt,” I said. “You and Demi . . . I know everything will be good.”
“I thought I was bad.” She giggled. “Demi filed an emergency request for temporary custody and the petition to establish parentage.”
“She told me the will would only support Gemma’s request.”
“Yeah, you can’t just walk off with a baby because its mother wrote it in her will. The movies make it seem like a cakewalk.”
“Demi said I might have to stay in California until this is settled.”
“Maybe, but we’re working on that. What about work?”
One of the things I’d focused on today was my schedule. I’d made several calls to clients, letting them know I was taking time off due to a personal loss. Most of them agreed to reschedule upcoming sessions. For those who couldn’t, I referred them to one of my homeboys.
“I’m all set,” I explained.
“Good.”
My dad poked his head into the room as he knocked. “Dallas, your mother told me to tell you to get in the kitchen and peel those potatoes.”
Dallas groaned dramatically. “No, Dad. You already know how she is about her potato salad.”
He raised his hands in surrender. “You need to take that up with her. I’m just the messenger.”
Rolling her eyes, Dallas gave me a quick hug and disappeared.
“How’s Ezra?” I asked.
Dad strolled over to the bed. “Beautiful. I don’t even know how I didn’t figure this out before now. He looks like a perfect mix of you and Gemma.”
I smirked. “Yeah. I’ve been staring at him since he got here and I’m starting to see it.”
Dad took a seat next to me. “Son, I can’t say that I know what you’re going through. I know loss, I know how I felt when I lost my sister, but everybody grieves differently.”
I swallowed past a lump in my throat.
“You think you have your life figured out only to be thrust into a situation you can’t control.
I’ve been there. One of the things I admire about you is your ability to compartmentalize.
” He chuckled. “I saw that in action after you lost your first Little League championship but still wanted to go to Gemma’s birthday party.
And you made sure she had the best day. I see it now every single time you stay calm during a family crisis.
All of us, no matter what we do to protect ourselves, have a moment when we just can’t turn off our feelings, when things get too hard to pretend we’re okay. ”
“Dad—” I said, my voice shaking with unshed tears.
“You’re in that place right now. When you agreed to donate your ‘genetic material’—” He cracked up. That huge discussion we’d had before Duke’s wedding had come back to haunt me often. “I still can’t believe you. Anyway, I know you never planned to be Ezra’s father.”
“I thought I’d considered everything,” I whispered. “My blind spot was Gemma. It never even occurred to me that she would die.”
“It never does, son.”
“How am I going to do this? How am I going to be his father?”
“One day at a time. You detached yourself from that sweet boy because that’s what you do. But he needs you now. He needs a father. And you’re going to have to work to connect with him.”
“I keep staring at him, wondering if I’ll ever be able to see him as my son and not my nephew. It’s like I’m watching him through a filtered lens. It’s not fair to him.”
“You’re right,” he agreed. “That’s why you have to work at it.
The bond between a father and his son is deep.
It’s a connection built through quiet understanding, gentle and strong guidance, shared experiences, hard-fought wins, and sometimes crushing pain.
As he grows into a man, you’ll feel the gamut of emotions.
He’ll get on your nerves, he’ll think he knows everything, he’ll challenge you every day.
That’s nothing compared to the pride you’ll feel the first time he hits a home run, beats you in Madden, or pleads his case to skip college and travel the world.
Or when he meets the woman or man that makes him want to be a better person.
I’m not gonna lie, parenting is hard. But it’s rewarding, one of the most important things you’ll ever do in your life. ”
“What if I . . .” I sucked in a deep, calming breath. “What if I fail?”
“I didn’t raise a failure. Now, you might not get everything right, but you know how to fix your mistakes.
You know how to pivot when you need to. You know how to research when you don’t know something.
You know how to love even when it’s hard.
Ezra is a blessed boy.” He gripped the back of my head.
“Just like I’m blessed that you’re my son.
Because you’re my son, because you’re your mother’s baby boy, because you carry a little bit of each one of your siblings, and because Gemma trusted you with her life and her son’s life, I’m confident that you’ll be an amazing father. ”
He pulled me into an embrace and I held on.
“I love you, son,” he said. “You got this.”
Nodding, I said, “If I don’t, I’ll figure it out.”
“Absolutely.” My mother called for him and he stood. “Let me go check on my wife. Dallas probably messed up those potatoes.” He walked to the door. “Uh oh, you have company.”
Frowning, I asked, “Who is it?”
Rissa peeked into the room and waved. “Hi.”
Dad closed the door, leaving me alone with her. Unable to help myself, I smiled. “Hi.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t text you back.”
Rissa shrugged. “It’s okay. I figured you needed space to process everything. Ma got in last night and wanted to come see everyone.”
“It’ll be cool to see her.”
“And I just needed to check on you.” She climbed into bed with me. “You have a house full.”
“Yes I do.”
“Ezra’s in heaven in Bliss’s arms.”
I nodded. “She’s good with him.”
“How are you? I swear, Duke has a gift from God. That damn rib I had was amazing.”