Stephen
SANTA BRING MY BABY BACK TO ME
“I just need my baby's arms
Wound around me tight.”
Performed by Elvis Presley
Written by Schroeder / Demetruis
I slammed my way through the house and into my room in a way I hadn’t done since I was a teen and Dad had grounded me for getting home past curfew—after getting Khiley and me both home way past curfew.
Just like then, Dad followed me to my room. I hadn’t realized he was back from the studio where he, Derek, Mayson, and the rest of the band were putting final touches on another Watery Reflection album. Dad was much more than just the band’s bassist; he was the sounding board for Uncle Derek’s songs, guiding them down a path that had allowed them to top the charts for over three decades.
Dad knocked and opened the door, leaning against it. His bulky frame was the same as mine. It was why Aunt Mia had nicknamed him a lumberjack. It was why I’d always felt like a giant out of its natural habitat…except with Khiley. She was the only one who made me feel normal. Everyone else made me feel like my size was something to gawk at.
“You want to talk?” Dad asked, rubbing a hand through the scruff on his face that was mostly gray these days. He didn’t look old, per se, but there was a layer of age to him that hadn’t been there a few years ago.
My tantrum made me feel like a teenager instead of a man almost ready to graduate and start his own family. Maybe Khiley was right. Maybe we shouldn’t do this. Maybe we couldn’t. Maybe neither of us was ready.
My gut twisted harshly, because I couldn’t imagine putting an end to the baby we’d created. The one our bodies had sparked to life with a twist of DNA and magic. Because creating life was magic. It required something more, in my opinion, than just an egg and a sperm. It required determination. It required love. I knew that was ridiculous. Babies were created out of hate as much as love. But I still felt like the baby we’d made could never be considered anything but magical.
Khiley’s Christmas present—her engagement ring—sat wrapped on my desk. I picked it up, turned it over in my hands, and then set it back down, slouching down into the desk chair, head in my hands.
Dad was still waiting for a response, and I finally answered him. “No. I don’t want to talk.”
Dad pushed off the doorframe and came into the room. He picked up the tiny gift decorated with a bow bigger than the present itself. Khiley was the bow to my box. She was the universe of stars to my small, round Earth.
“The engagement ring?” Dad asked, setting it back down.
I nodded. I’d talked to him and Blake about the engagement before we’d found out Khiley was pregnant. I’d wanted to propose to her at Christmas. With our families there. I’d wanted to end college and start the rest of our lives together at the same time.
“Are you nervous?” Dad asked.
I shook my head. I wasn’t nervous about proposing. At least, I hadn’t been. Now, I wasn’t sure what Khiley wanted. The baby had put crazy ideas in her head.
My phone buzzed, and I lunged for it. Disappointment coursed through me on seeing Ty’s name instead of Khiley’s.
TY: I need a beer. I’ll be there in five. Don’t disappoint me.
He wasn’t quite twenty-one and shouldn’t have been allowed to drink anywhere, but age didn’t matter in a town that had always treated him like a god. I damn sure wasn’t in the mood to go out. I definitely wouldn’t be good company, but I also didn’t want to sit here avoiding Dad and thinking of a baby that might not come to be.
“It’s Ty. I’m going to call him back,” I said with a wave at Dad and a thumb hovering over the call button.
“Okay. Well, let me know if you change your mind.” And he left, because Dad was good at giving me my space, knowing I’d eventually come clean. I always had.
I hit call. “Are you trying to back out?” Ty asked.
“No,” I said without any hesitation.
“Wow. Normally you hem and haw and tell me we have to bring Khiley. What’s wrong with you?” Ty teased, his voice a deep guttural growl, which the majority of the female population at UTK found enthralling.
“Nothing. I just need to drown some thoughts in alcohol.”
“I really don’t know what to say to this unusual twist of events. Walk down to the end of the drive, and I’ll pick you up.”
I pulled my heavy coat back on over my UTK sweatshirt and took off down the long windy drive to the gates. Both our childhood homes sat along the cliff overlooking the lake, but you couldn’t see either house from the other. The road we shared was lined with gates, security cameras, and alarms that were needed with Watery Reflection still topping charts. Even with our dads approaching fifty and starting to show their age, the fanatic fans showed up, trying to get glimpses of them.
By the time I got to the end of the drive, Ty was idling there in his rebuilt Roadrunner. I slipped through the gate and slid into the passenger seat. The Roadrunner roared to life, and he took off down the road at a pace that was all Ty.
We drove in silence, Ty’s music blasting until we got to the edge of town where the bar was located. When I emerged from the interior’s warmth, I shivered. The air had dropped to the freezing level, but it hadn’t snowed yet. It was still holding off, waiting for who knew what.
As we walked into McFlannigan’s, Ty was greeted with a crowd of people hollering his name and beckoning him over. Some were people we’d gone to high school with, and some were older. Like the owner, Phil, who’d put up the UTK banner sitting above the bar in honor of my cousin.
Ty waved and smiled but didn’t join any of them. We took two stools at the far corner of the bar, and I ordered tequila shots and a pitcher of beer. Ty just eyed me in the mirror glimmering behind the bottles of alcohol, and I ignored it until after we’d slammed our first round.
“I was joking earlier, at Gram’s, about the trouble in paradise, but…you guys okay?” Ty asked quietly—or as quietly as his booming voice would ever let him.
I shook my head. We weren’t okay. We were so far from okay I didn’t know what to do.
“Remember the time Jackson Blakey asked Khiley to homecoming?” Ty asked.
I grimaced. It was our freshman year of high school. Khiley and I had shared a few more kisses by then. Tentative kisses. We hadn’t done much more than that, even though every time we kissed, it felt like the rest of the world faded away into nothing. Like there was nothing but me, Khiley, and the stars she adored. But I hadn’t made her mine officially. I had, ignorantly and arrogantly, assumed she and everyone else knew she was mine. I hadn’t known I needed to publicly claim her.
To my complete horror, Khiley accepted Jackson’s invitation and went to homecoming in a dress showing off all the curves I was just getting used to her having. I was determined to watch after her and went solo, standing in the decorated gym, glowering at the two of them. Then, Jackson grabbed her ass while they danced, and I marched over and punched him so hard he slid a good two feet along the waxed basketball court like some cartoon character. Khiley was pissed and stormed out the doors. When the teachers chaperoning asked what happened, no one said a thing, not even Jackson.