Jodi brushed her curls from her forehead. "You're off the hook, Michael. For child support. For everything."
"I'm not worried about that."
Tears started to well in her eyes again. "All your dreams can come true now. I'm happy for you—I really am."
Chapter Twenty-six
Sunlight spilled through the window of Jodi's hospital room and caught the blonde highlights in her hair, making her hair seem almost red. She would look great with a redheaded son wrapped in her arms.
I pulled a chair up next to her and slumped down.
It was 9:30 A.M. Compared to the way she looked hours ago, she looked damn good now, I thought. Sweat no longer dripped from her. Pain no longer twisted her face. She no longer clenched here fists. She breathed normally. Her hair was combed. But she was still hooked up to tubes. I figured she'd been in labor maybe twelve hours. How tough was that? She could play on my team anytime. "You okay?" I asked. Another stupid question.
She shrugged and bit down hard on her bottom lip.
"You're looking pretty good," I said.
She swiped at her hair, peered at the ceiling, and then shot me a glance. "I made a mistake from the beginning, Michael. I was so stupid..."
"Let's not talk about it."
Tears rushed to her eyes. "I'm sorry I put you through all of this. For nothing."
"I wouldn't have missed it, that's the truth."
"Like I believe that," she said, stabbing her tears away with her fingertips. "Aren't you going to bitch me out? Tell me how right you were? Go ahead, I'm waiting."
"I wouldn't do that, you know it."
"I want you to, I deserve it."
"No one's going to bitch you out. Not me, your mom and dad, my mom. No one."
"I can't believe this is happening."
"How do you feel? You hurt all over?"
"I feel exhausted. Guilty...embarrassed..."
My hand danced in the air, silencing her. "Feeling exhausted is okay, but forget the rest. You have no reason to feel guilty or embarrassed."
Jodi's eyes latched onto mine. "And I'm sorry about messing up your life for the last couple of months—I'm being totally honest here."
I curled my fingers around her hand. But she pulled it away and reached for her glass of water on the nightstand on the other side of the bed. She gulped a drink. "I screwed up your graduation..."
"Being with you," I said, "was more important than anything else I could've done."
"Well, to be honest, I'm glad you were here. Really. But I've got to say it again and again: I'm sorry I put you through all this."
I glanced at my watch. "Look, I'm going to have to leave soon. My bus takes off at eleven. Your mom's going to keep my car. But I'll see you when you get back to your grandparents' house. Okay?" I stood. "We'll talk...we've still got lots of things to talk about, okay? We'll talk and talk."
"About what? Everything's settled."
"Later we'll be able to think better."
"I'll bring your car back as soon as I get out of here. Could be a couple of days, though. I've got lots of stitches."
"No hurry.
"Are you getting tested before you go?"
"Your mom's setting it up right now, I think. And I want to stop by the nursery to see the baby."
I also wanted to kiss Jodi. Just a kiss on the forehead. The cheek maybe. Or a tiny kiss on the lips. "Um...I almost forgot, what's the baby's name?"
"Matthew Jackson. Matthew Travis Jackson. Grandpa's name is Matthew."
"Great name. Your dad and grandpa will like that."
Would she have named the baby Matt Panther, or maybe Matt Michael Panther, if it had had black hair? A cleft in its chin?
Jodi brushed her curls from her forehead. "You're off the hook, Michael. For child support. For everything."
"I'm not worried about that."
Tears started to well in her eyes again. "All your dreams can come true now. I'm happy for you—I really am."
God, I hated seeing her cry like that, only hours after having a baby, already physically and emotionally drained. "Jodi, like I was telling your mom, we don't know anything yet. Not for sure."
"Yes we do." She closed her eyes, as if she were so weary she'd never open them again. Tears squeezed out.
"We'll talk later, okay? When you get back to your grandma's house. When we know more."
I bent to kiss her. But as I moved closer, she must have heard my clothes rustling or something. Her eyes popped open, glassy and flat, and she turned her head. My lips caught only the corner of her mouth and part of her cheek. I tasted her salty tears and wondered if we'd ever be close again.
Before I left the hospital, I stopped at a room with a sign above the door that said LABORATORY. A nurse asked me to sit in a chair with big arms on it, as if she were ready to draw blood. But she didn't draw blood. She gave me a clipboard with some papers on it and asked me to sign the papers to verify who I really was and where I lived. She said it took three to five days to get results like this back, and they'd mail me a copy of the report, comparing my DNA to Matt's. Then she asked me to open my mouth. I did. She rolled a cotton swab around on the inside of my cheek. When she was finished, she smiled and said, "That's all."
I couldn't believe that something as basic as saliva was going to tell me if I were a father or not.
On my way out of the hospital, I stopped at the nursery and peered at Matt through the big window, which was all smeared from people's handprints. The babies—I counted eight—lay on their backs wrapped in either a blue or pink blanket in a little plastic baskets—I think the baskets are called bassinets. A pink or blue cap perched on each baby's head. Most of the babies seemed to be sleeping peacefully, but some were making crinkly faces, their tiny hands knotted into fists beside their heads. The babies' last names were printed on a little card attached to the baskets, but I didn't need a name card to spot Matt. He was the only redheaded baby there, his hair peeking out from under his cap. He was sleeping, unaware of the turmoil his birth had created. Unaware of the turmoil his parents had created for him.
In this whole ordeal, he was an innocent victim.
The only innocent one.
An elderly woman with gray hair stepped up beside me at the window, a grandmother probably. She smiled at me. "Got a brother or sister in there?"
Obviously, after taking one glance at me, she thought I was too young to be a father. "Um...no..." I said. "Just the baby of a friend." I might be related though...but probably not.
"I'm a first-time grandmother—Jennifer is the baby's name." The lady pointed a finger. "See? Over there."
"Beautiful baby," I said.
But I didn't look where she was looking. My eyes latched onto Matt. I found it almost impossible to mouth good-bye to him through the window and stride out of the hospital to catch my bus.
Coming Friday—Chapter Twenty-seven: Mom reveals a secret.
