Hayley
I can’t afford to stay here. It’s not the money thing. It’s costing me my sanity. Peter is somewhere out there. Probably still in the same shitty apartment. Do I really think he’d try to hurt me? How much more hurt can there possibly be?
I decide I’ll take Everleigh for a walk in her stroller. Just to clear my mind and think. As we walk down the hall, I notice Jada packing her things. Maya crawls around her, ripping clothes out of the suitcase that Jada just packed.
“Where are you going?”
“Getting transferred again,” she says while pulling a shirt out of Maya’s grip. Nothing is stronger than those little fingers babies have, that’s for sure.
“Really? Why?”
“Since Mateo knows where we are now, it’s not really safe for us to be here, you know? Also, they gotta get me away from Destiny.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, we both got written up last night— Maya, knock it off!” Maya sits flat on her bottom and lets out a loud screech. Unfortunately I can’t cover my ears, because I have no free hands. I just stand there and pretend like that wasn’t the worst sound I’ve ever heard in my life. God, I hope Everleigh never screeches like that.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“I’m not supposed to tell anybody,” she says, zipping up the suitcase.
“Oh… Jada, how old are you?” I figure since she asked me about Peter last night, I can ask her some questions too.
“Eighteen,” she says.
“Oh wow… That’s young. I was still in and out of foster care around that time, not living all alone.”
“Yeah, OK,” she says. She stands and picks up Maya with one hand and her suitcase with the other.
“This is goodbye then?” I ask as she walks by me.
“Nah, we’ll be seeing each other again.”
“We will? Where?”
“Around. Once you’re in the system, you’re never really out of it. I’m sure I’ll see you at the DSS center, or maybe we’ll be placed in the same house again, or something. Ask Beth, she’s been here for years.”
Jada walks past me and down the stairs. I walk to the window of what was her bedroom and watch as she gets in a taxicab with Maya.
Never out of it? Never? Hell no. No way. I’m getting out of this, right? This isn’t our forever, is it? Fuck. I look at my phone. It’s only 7:30 in the morning. I haven’t even had my coffee yet. I don’t have the mental capacity to think about all this until after caffeine.
I walk to the kitchen and start brewing a full pot. I figure there’s gotta be someone else here that will appreciate a fresh cup. As soon as the coffee starts to drip, Beth walks in. Knew it.
“I’m gonna miss Jada’s loud crazy ass a little bit,” she says, leaning over the counter.
“Hey Beth?”
“Yeah?” she asks, standing upwards and pulling the Pumpkin Spice creamer out from the fridge.
“Jada…She said we’ll probably see each other again.” I don’t want to talk about it, but those words won’t leave my head.
“Yeah, probably.”
“She said no one ever really gets out of the system,” I say with a deep breath, tapping my fingers against the countertop.
“She’s not lying. I have a friend Sierra, she and her son have been homeless for twelve years.” Beth pulls two cups out from the cupboard and places them on the countertop. She grabs the coffee pot, but then puts it back down. “You like a lot of creamer or a little bit?”
“A lot,” I say.
“Good, me too.” She pours like three tablespoons of creamer into each mug. “I work at Dunkin’ Donuts,” she says. “Did you know that? You should put the milk and sugar in first, then you don’t even have to mix!”
“Cool… But… Did you say homeless for twelve years!?”
“Yeah, twelve. On and off.”
“How long have you been homeless?”
“Since before Isaiah was born. Probably about four years.”
“Why so long?”
“Have you looked into the housing market? I can’t afford anything. It’s impossible, especially with a baby and one income… But need some free stale donuts? I’m your girl.”
She sits down at the kitchen table and sips her coffee. She scrolls through her phone.
“Are you looking for apartments?”
“Looking for apartments where, hon?” she asks.
“I don’t know, anywhere?”
She laughs and shakes her head. “I’m on the Section 8 waitlist. My time’s coming.”
I sigh in relief. I need to get my name on one of those.
“Just about three more years to go,” she adds with a laugh and a slurp of her coffee.
“WHAT?! How long have you been waiting for?”
“Like two years, maybe? The list is like five years long.”
I feel like I’m going to pass out. There is no way that Everleigh and I will still be here when she’s in elementary school. What the hell is anyone supposed to do? “Shit. I need to get my name on the list now!” I yell. I start chugging my coffee. It burns going down. Maybe Krista can help.
“I don’t even know if the list is open right now,” Beth says. She’s looking at her phone. She laughs and smacks the table. “You gotta see this,” she says. She turns her phone to show me a cat video, but honestly I don’t give a shit about cats, especially not right now.
“The list closes?”
“Yeah. There’s a bunch of different lists and they’re not always open.” She turns her phone back around when she realizes I’m not even watching.
I throw my coffee mug into the sink and run back upstairs. Fuck caffeine, I don’t need it. Where is my phone? I’m not trying to be mean, but after this I never want to see Jada, or Beth, or Destiny ever again. I want all of us to get out of this and move on. As soon as I lay back down. Everleigh cries. I scroll through the Section 8 programs listed online. Closed, closed, closed! They’re mostly all closed! I keep scrolling, ignoring Everleigh’s tantrum. I have a meeting with Krista tomorrow about housing… If she can’t help Beth, how the hell is she going to help me? Is there any way out of this? Maybe Peter—
I enter his number into my phone and consider texting him. It takes every bit of me to resist sending him a picture of Everleigh. I decide instead, to type his name in on Facebook. Maybe that will scratch the itch. I find him, but his profile is completely private. His profile picture is him sitting at some sort of table in an apron… Is he making a gingerbread house? That’s fucking weird. His Facebook banner is an ad for some sort of baking thing called “Have Your Cake, Drink it Too.”
I minimize my Facebook app and type that into Google. A couple of links come up. Some public events on the Patch… A bunch of Brewery websites… Is this his new job? Wow… Good for him… Seems like he’s keeping busy. Maybe even making money. I click on an article from the Patch. He seems to be the only person in any of these pictures. Is this a one-man operation?
I hear Everleigh cry again. What am I more scared of? Having my baby taken away and going to prison…or the both of us living like this for God knows how long? Maybe Peter won’t do anything to hurt me… I mean, he hasn’t tried anything yet, what’s stopping him?
I throw my phone down and cover my eyes. I can’t think over the sound of Everleigh crying. I walk to the crib and pick up my baby. I’m not sure what the right thing to do is. Maybe I should take the day to think it through.
Peter
It won’t be in time for Christmas, but I consider submitting the order on my phone. Is there anything stopping me now? These results take a long time to come back. Even when they do come back, I doubt Danny’s birth father has also done a 23+ Me. In fact, that’s probably the last thing he’d ever do knowing that he has an estranged son somewhere out there in the world. I sure as hell know I wouldn’t do it. No one will ever find me. I disappeared as if I never existed. I never should have existed anyway.
I’m at the bakery, but there’s no one else here. I’m cleaning out Allen’s office. I planned on making it my own, but now… What’s the point? Squamous Cell Carcinoma. That’s a long fucking term. Kind of like ROY GEE BIV, but far less colorful. Much more bleak. They asked me if I’m a drinker. I said no, because everyone lies to doctors about that. Could drinking really cause cancer? Nah, I don’t think that’s it.
My phone is vibrating. I’m not ready to tell Danny about the diagnosis yet. I’m still thinking of how to put a positive spin on this. There really is no upside. Well, I guess the upside is that since I’m dying, I’m considering purchasing the DNA test. He’ll get to find out who he is. That’s quite selfish, aye? I stare at the submit button on my phone. Something deep inside still prevents me from ordering this God Damn DNA kit.
My phone vibrates in my hand. I sit in Allen’s old desk chair and take a look at my messages.
Huh? It’s a number I don’t recognize sending me a picture of… a baby?
What? Who the fuck would send me a picture of their baby. I hate babies.
Everything in my body tenses up. Hayley? HAYLEY? My head is spinning. Is this really Hayley? This can’t really be her, can it? Maybe it’s the Make-A-Wish Foundation. I laugh at my own fucked up joke.
Yeah, it’s definitely her.
I suddenly remember the first text. A picture of a baby? Why is she sending me a picture of a fucking baby? Is that supposed to be cryptic or something? Should I know what that means? I scroll back up to the top of the conversation and look closely at the picture. The baby lies on a blanket. It’s a girl, I think. She has thick blonde curls and big brown eyes. Uh-oh. Oh fuck.
WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON RIGHT NOW? This can’t be, can it? How old is this baby? How long has it been since I’ve seen Hayley? I count the months on my fingers, but my hands are shaking. I throw my phone down on the desk in front of me. Jesus Christ, Mary and Joseph. This is entirely possible. This is entirely fucking possible, isn’t it? I hate this, don’t I? I fucking hate this! But… I don’t actually. I don’t hate this. I’m excited about this? I love this? HOW DO I FEEL ABOUT THIS? I rub my chin viciously with my fingers. It feels like sandpaper. God, I need to shave.
I put my phone to my ear and wait patiently for her to pick up.
“Hey.” she says. It’s her. It’s really her voice.
Hayley
“Homeless? What do you mean homeless?” he asks. I hear lots of movement in the background of the phone call.
“Am I on speaker?”
“Yeah, but there’s no one here, so what does it matter?”
“Sounds like you’re busy doing something.”
“I’m just moving shit around. You want me to stop?”
“No, that’s OK— and I mean homeless. Like living in a homeless shelter.”
“You can live in a shelter with a baby?”
“Yeah… There’s actually a lot of people who do it.”
“I thought that would be neglectful or something.”
“I have no idea, but Peter, I’ve been working so fucking hard. I haven’t touched anything, not a pill, not even a cigarette. Nothing. My CPS worker has been really happy with me.”
“Really?”
“Swear to God. I’m a changed person.” As I say it, my phone dings. I pull it away from my ear for a quick second. It’s a notification from my daily horoscope. “Oh! That’s my horoscope. I’ll read it to you.”
“You know I don’t give a shit about that.”
“Fine, I’ll read yours then.” I pull the phone away from my ear again and put him on speakerphone too. Everleigh coos in the background.
“Hayley, I don’t give a shit about my horoscope… Is that the baby?”
“Yeah, that’s Eve.”
“You named her Eve? Like the biblical woman that ate the apple?”
“It’s short for Everleigh. Google said that it’s Gaelic. I named her for you because when I saw her for the first time—She’s your twin, I swear to God.”
“Everleigh? I speak Gaelic and I’ve never heard that in my whole fucking life. You should have called me before you named her. I should have had a say in that—”
How is he already lecturing me? I look at the timer on the call. We’ve been chatting for two minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Is this a new record?
“Seonaid. I would have liked my daughter’s name to be Seonaid—"
“VIRGO,” I yell, interrupting his rant.
“Jesus Christ, Mary, and Joseph.”
“Virgo, it’s time to be nice to the girl that reached out to you looking for help. Stop bitching about everything, and try calming down. Maybe even try pulling the stick from out of your ass, I’m sure you’ll be much more comfortable once it’s removed.”
He’s totally silent. I bite my bottom lip to try to keep myself from laughing.
“Is that… That’s really what it says, Hayley?”
“NO!” I laugh. “But really, like, I’m trying to tell you what the fuck is going on right now, and you’re complaining about a name that I thought you’d actually like. I said I named her for you!”
“Yeah. Sorry. Thanks. I got a lot going on too.”
“Like what?” I ask. I put my phone down on my chest and pick at my fingernails.
“So much. Let’s see… Running a bakery all by myself with Christmas around the corner… I have cancer… Oh and now I have a baby, I guess?”
I stop playing with my fingernails and pick the phone back up. “Wait, what was the second thing?”
“Cancer, I have cancer. I just found out about it.”
“What type of cancer? How did you get cancer?”
“It’s a really long name, but it’s in my esophagus. I have no idea how I got it, maybe it happened when you poisoned me, or some shit like that.”
“SH! Don’t say that! You’re on SPEAKER PHONE!”
“And?”
“Seriously? I never should have called you. You want me to lose our baby? You haven’t said anything to anyone about that, have you?”
“No, not even my doctors.”
I close my eyes and sigh in relief. I take the call off speaker and put the phone back up to my ear.
“And Danny?”
“No, I don’t think he has either.”
“Why the fuck not?” I ask. I sit up in bed.
“How would telling on you help me at all?”
“Justice, I guess.”
“I don’t believe in that.”
What the hell does that mean?
“I don’t want you to get in trouble. You said you were sorry,” he says.
“You’re really weird, you know that?”
“Why? You want me to tell on you?”
“NO! No.”
“OK. I’m glad you contacted me. When I ran away, I never looked back.”
“Huh?”
“Look… I’ve done some bad shit too, OK? We’re even. We’re basically the same person, me and you.”
“What are you talking about? You ran away from Scotland? What did you do?” I lean forward and squint my eyes. We’re even? How the hell are we even?
“Maybe we’ll talk about it later.”
“OK. Sure, later.” I very well know that later will probably never come, but this isn’t why I called him. “You think you can help me and Eve?”
“Help you how? OW! Fuck!”
“Peter, what the hell are you doing?!”
“I closed my finger in this fucking drawer! Fuck!”
“Oh… Well, anyway, help with uh… Money?”
“Fuck! Hayley, we’ll see… I’ll try my best.”
“I mean, you do believe she’s yours, right?”
“How old is she?”
“Like three months old. I mean, you can get a paternity—”
“HELL NO. The government is not getting my DNA!”
“Ok. Well, don’t they already have it—”
“I have no idea, but I am not getting a paternity test! I’ll send you what I can, OK? No paper trails. We’ll meet up and I’ll give you cash.”
“OK Mr. Secretive.”
“You’re damn right. Look, I gotta go. Send me more pictures of the baby though, OK? And we’ll text about meeting up, maybe after the new year if that’s OK? I have my hands fucking full right now.”
“Sure…”
When I end the call with him, I look through the hundreds of pictures on my phone of little Eve. She’s so pretty. It’s weird because I think she’s beautiful, yet she looks just like him. Hm… I send over about thirty-five pictures. I imagine his phone dinging endlessly. I wonder if it’s pissing him off.
Kara
He’s sitting on the couch as I collect the last of my things. I’m holding my Vera Bradley duffle bag tightly. I would like to say goodbye, since I’m going to be gone for a few days. He doesn’t even seem to notice I’m leaving. I get it, I guess. A cancer diagnosis, I can’t imagine.
“So, I’m gonna head out.”
“Oh… Uhm. Yeah. Have a good trip.”
“My parents live like twenty minutes away.”
“Have a good twenty-minute drive then.”
“Uhm… OK? Well, Merry Christmas?”
He’s texting someone. I wonder who. I don’t think doctors send text messages, especially not on Christmas eve.
“Who are you talking to.”
“No one! Sorry.” He shoves his phone into his pocket and looks up at me and smiles.
I put my bag down and sit next to him.
“Are you going to tell Danny this weekend?”
“Uhm. Uh, yeah. I’ll talk to him about it. Not tonight though. I have quite a few orders for tomorrow morning I need to focus on… Actually, that’s who I was texting! I have this new system where I confirm orders with customers via text message.”
I hope he’s not planning to work through all of this… Maybe he feels like he doesn’t have any other choice? Or maybe keeping himself busy is the best thing he can do right now.
“So…When are you coming back?” he asks.
“Probably Tuesday… You know, I was hoping—”
“Yeah?”
I grab his hand. He looks confused. I thought he would like this? I mean, he told me he “needed me” a couple of days ago? I don’t know… Maybe his emotions are all over the place. “Maybe you and Danny can come to my parent’s house for Christmas?” I smile. He watches my thumb graze over his fingers.
“No thank you,” he says. “Merry Christmas. Safe travels.”
What? Why not?
“You don’t want to come?”
“Not really, no.”
“Why? It would be nice for you to meet my family. It’s not like you and Danny have other plans.”
“I don’t want to meet your family.”
Wow. That’s kind of fucking rude. He’s still the same fucking asshole, isn’t he? Wait… I can’t be mad at him, not now. Maybe he really wants to be alone after everything that’s transpired.
“Oh… Well, I’ll call you on Christmas.”
“I’ll be looking forward to it.”
I lean in and kiss him on the lips. His breath smells like candy canes. When I pull away, I’m unsure if he kissed me back. His face looks unchanged by my display of affection. If anything he looks confused, worried maybe?
“Well, like I said. Merry Christmas, Kara. I’ll see you on Tuesday.”
I stand, feeling a bit embarrassed. I collect my duffle bag once more. “Don’t forget our phone call on Christmas.”
“I most certainly will not.”
I head toward the stairs.
“I have some extra cookies from last night. I’ll decorate one just for you,” he says. “A big one.”
“Text me a picture.”
“Will do.”
I walk to my car and place my duffle bag in the back seat. That was not the sendoff I was expecting at all.