At this point all I can say is, “You’re a good son. Is she okay?”
“Yeah. Mom mentioned she has a vitamin deficiency,” Heath says dryly. “What vitamin she’s deficient in, only God knows because she refuses to go to the doctor. She wasn’t happy when I refused to give her any medical advice—she’s my mother.”
I nod, pinching my face into a thoughtful expression. “Makes sense, but you should suggest she find a new doctor.”
“I already did.” He sounds so frustrated I want to give him a hug. Maybe later when he’s not driving.
“And? What did she say?”
“She’ll probably ignore me.”
Dawn Spearman has never been kind to me, but I wish someone would pay a little more attention to her. Heath’s concern is valid, and after he’s gone, there might not be anything he can do—and no one will look after her.
My advice would be to find a fellowship in San Francisco—or accept the one he was offered—but he’s ready to leave. If anyone tries to stop him, he’ll resent them. I’m getting used to the idea of losing him. Nothing will be the same after he leaves, but that’s okay as long as he’s happy.
He’s going to ghost me, and I bet he’ll do the same with his family. What did we do to him that he has the need to run away from us?
The silence in the car begins to suffocate me, and when his phone rings, I sigh with relief. When I look at the dashboard, I announce, “It’s Ben.”
Heath sighs, as if he just can’t take another problem into his hands.
“What’s wrong with him? Did someone at the hospital catch him screwing a nurse?”
“Oh no, it’s worse.”
“What can be worse than that?”
“He knocked up a married woman,” he mumbles as he connects the call. “What’s up, Ben?”
“It’s a girl.”
I squeak. “What?”
“My possible child is going to be a girl,” he groans. “What am I supposed to do with her? I don’t know anything about raising children.”
“Love her?” I ask. “And what do you mean by my possible child?”
“Is that you, Atzi?”
“Hi, Ben.”
“Ugh. I’m not ready to tell anyone this, so keep it on the DL, please.”
I scoff. “People might notice if you have a child calling you Daddy. You should—”
“As I suggested,” Heath interrupts me. “Create a trust for the child and wave goodbye to the mother. You’re not cut out to be a father.”
“I’m not,” Ben agrees. “And whatever I do to fix this has to be soon. The mother had the due date wrong. The baby will be here in six weeks.”
“How can she have the date wrong by four weeks? It’s simple math. Maybe you’re not the father. If I were you, I’d find a good doctor, the best lawyer, and you should handle the paternity test.” Heath is frustrated. Anyone would think he’s the one who got the bad news and knocked up some woman.
“On it. I need the name of your brother-in-law’s lawyer. If I remember right, he has offices here in New York?”
“We’re on our way to Santa Cruz to see him, Fern, and the twins. I’ll ask for the information when I see him.”
“Thank you. Pray I’m not the father.” Ben’s voice is almost heartbreaking.
“Can someone explain what’s going on?” I ask instead of saying he should keep his dick in his pants and, if he can’t, to use condoms.
“Ask Heath. I have to go back to work,” he answers, finishing the call.
I rotate slightly to face Heath and ask, “What happened?”
Heath tells me about the baby mama and how she’s not sure if the child is Ben’s or her husband’s. Also, the possible solutions to his problem.
“A baby isn’t a problem. It’s a miracle.”
“I love my nieces and nephew. Babies are adorable, but if I knock someone up, that kid becomes a problem.”
I scrunch my nose. “Ouch. So, what would you do?”
“Offer her money. A trust so the kid grows up with everything, but also, I’ll rescind my parental rights and make sure they won’t have access to my family’s money.”
“That’s harsh.”
“Listen, I don’t plan on having children. If it happens by accident, I have to be prepared.”
I cross my arms, upset on behalf of the poor kid who didn’t ask to be born. “So, you told Benedict to do the same.”
“It’s the best solution. Like me, he’s not a family man.”
“You are. What if you regret not being part of your child’s life?”
“I. Don’t. Want. Children.”
It’s none of my business and his decision, but why is he so adamant about not having a family?
“Why not?”
“So many reasons. What if the kid is born with the same cardiac defect Dad had? He could die at a young age. What if I’m the one who dies when he’s just a child? You know how it is to grow up without your parents.”
He’s not wrong, but he’s not right, either. “You can’t stop living because people die. Yes, my parents and my sister left too soon, but I have amazing memories of them and I’m glad I got to spend eleven unforgettable years with my family.”
“You miss them. Ever since they died, you’ve wanted to have a family—or create one.”
And somehow, I feel like we’re not talking about me but him. He’ll never admit it, but Heath is still mourning his father, remembering when he found him dead on the ground and how his mother responded by disconnecting herself from reality. She spent six years wasting herself away.
“Do me a favor,” I mumble. “If you ever knock someone up and neither one of you wants the baby, give her or him to me. I’ll make sure to give the kid everything they need.”
“But I wouldn’t want anything to do with the kid.”
That doesn’t make any sense, until I realize what he means. “And if I have the child, you wouldn’t want to hang out with me?”
“I—” He clamps his lips, and after a long pause, he asks, “Why do you always create a problem where there aren’t any?”
“Not sure. I like to solve problems. This seems like something we have to figure out before you pull a Benedict.”
“I would never do that. I use condoms.”
“They’re only ninety-seven percent effective. And what is it that you always say?” I tap my chin. “Oh, yeah. Never say never.”
“Well, it’ll never happen to me.”
He groans, and I laugh. If he ever knocks someone up, I’ll remind him of this conversation and make him squirm.
Chapter Eleven
Atzi
Someone once said that you meet so many people in your life, but only a few connect with your heart. I believe it. I met Heath at a grief camp. He was thirteen, and I was almost twelve. He was always alone by one of the giant redwood trees, hiding from the counselors. I followed him like a duckling because I also wanted to avoid everyone. The first two days, we didn’t speak to each other. I would be sketching, and he’d be reading.