Luke.
Yes, I still had my text string with Luke. My thumb hovered over his name and my hand was trembling. I hadn’t looked in a while; I’d made myself stop looking. A hundred times I’d let my thumb hover over his name. I should delete it. I really should. I should delete it. Move on. Move forward.
I didn’t. I put the phone down and turned it to ‘do not disturb’, setting an alarm for nine o’clock in the morning.
***
It was early Sunday afternoon and I had managed to get out of the clubhouse without speaking to anyone. I’d heard Rider and Jenna arguing from the hallway in their clubhouse room. They’d often spend the night here on Saturdays, so they didn’t have to cab it home after partying downstairs. She still sounded pissed about the night before. I was glad I managed to get out of there without being noticed. I did overhear something against my will though.
“Just because I let you fuck me last night does not mean our fight is over, Rider.”
“Naw, gorgeous. It was over. It’s just you decided to get yourself some more of that fight-fuckin’ you love so much so you’re pretendin’ we’re still in a fight, hoping I’ll grab and pin you.”
I heard a crash (likely her throwing something) as she called him an alpha-hole and my face was contorted into a yuck expression as I locked my bedroom door and moved out of earshot quickly. Quickly, because if what he said was true, the next things I’d hear would be sex sounds and I did not need to hear sex sounds from one of my brothers or one of the girls getting touched by my brothers right now. I’d say ‘ever’ but too late. I’d heard them before, sadly, more times than I could count. The walls in this place were way too thin.
***
I was pulling into the driveway of a house four streets over from my childhood home in Sioux Falls. It was the Hanson house. I knocked on the door and as I did, the screen door swung open and a shocked Mrs. Hanson’s face dropped with relief.
“Oh. Jojo. It’s you. I thought it was her again. Come in.”
“Her?” I asked, following Luke’s mom inside.
“That Melanie girl. She keeps coming here and hounding me about money for that baby she says is Luke’s.”
“Uh, pardon me?” I stepped into the living room and sat on the couch. Because I had to. My knees had gone wobbly at what she’d said.
“Melanie. I told you about her, didn’t I?”
“No, I don’t think so…” I think I’d have remembered if she’d told me some girl was coming around claiming to have a baby that was Luke’s.
“She came here claiming that Luke was the daddy to her baby. She says he’s got medical problems. She needs money. But, I don’t know if it is Luke’s baby. I could not see my boy in that child. Nothing about that baby feels like our Luke’s blood, our blood. Does that make sense? We called Rider about her and he told us to ignore her. He said she’s claiming paternity to more than just our family. I don’t want to call the police on her, but it’s got to stop. Anyway, it was you and not her so that’s good. Do you want tea?”
I let all her words seep in there on the Hansons’ beige and dusty rose floral sofa with the scratched and frayed armrests from their old-as-dirt cat and shook my head, my eyes landing on a framed photograph of Mr. and Mrs. Hanson with Luke, when he was about six or seven years old.
“Did you forget I was coming today? And no thanks to the tea.”
The cat climbed into my lap and made himself comfortable. I petted his head while she disappeared into her kitchen.
My heart was racing, mind whirling at the notion that a piece of Luke might be here on this planet. He wanted kids. Lots of them. It was one of those things we talked about in our late-night text conversations when he couldn’t sleep and when I’d force myself to stay awake to keep him company. He joked that he wanted all boys. I retorted that I wanted only girls because I’d had enough boys in my life. I steeled myself against the pain that Luke might have a little boy, a little boy he’d never get to watch grow up.
Mrs. Hanson came back with a tray holding a tea pot, two cups, milk, sugar, and a plastic sleeve of biscuits.
“I must have forgotten, sorry. But, I’m happy to visit with you. No tea? I’m having some.”
“Uh, okay,” I amended. “Can you tell me about this Melanie situation?”
Mrs. Hanson took a big breath and smoothed her long, dark hair away from her face. She had dark circles around her eyes again today.
“She turned up here with a baby and said she was sorry to bother us but thought we might want to know our grandson. We were just…shocked.” She stirred her tea and then nudged the sugar in my direction. “My husband slammed the door in her face. I was so shocked I didn’t do a thing. I wanted to talk to her, get a better look at that boy. The next day while he was at work, she came back. I let her in, and she said she needed money for the doctor. She said she only had diapers and milk to last her two more days. I took her to the store and bought her diapers and milk, but I told her I couldn’t pay for a doctor. Told her about a clinic a few blocks from here where they’d help her. She was back two days later again for money, five minutes after my husband left, like she’s just out there waitin’ for him to leave, saying she needed it for the doctor, that there was something wrong with him and I’m sorry, but I didn’t believe her. I think it’s for drugs. She didn’t have him with her the last two times she came. I don’t know for sure, but… I suspect Rider’s right and that’s not my son’s baby.”
I was flabbergasted. I needed to talk to Rider.
“But what if he is?” She twisted her upper lip nervously between her thumb and forefinger. “My husband won’t discuss it, but I’d really hate to not help if he is our grandson. I mean, we don’t have much, we’re just getting by, but…” She stared off into space.
“Do you have her number?”
“Yes.”
“Can I have it?”
She looked at me with confusion.
“I’ll try to help you get to the bottom of it, Mrs. Hanson.”
She reached for her purse, looking relieved.
Mrs. Hanson was lonely and may as well have been alone, really. I had stopped in to see her after we spread Luke’s ashes over the valley, and she seemed so sad and despondent that it tugged at the part of me that wanted Luke, wherever he was, to know I cared. I promised to visit again. And I had been back three times. It was becoming a regular thing and each time I visited she was a little less despondent. It was a long drive, so I usually added it to some other activity that’d give me reason to visit my old stomping grounds. Meet up with an old friend, usually. Sometimes I’d stop by the club or Aunt Delia’s for some reason or another. Today, I was here just for this. I almost didn’t come, but I worried she’d have no one to talk to and nothing to do if I didn’t. Plus, I didn’t want to sit around the clubhouse today and deal with any shit about last night from Rider, Dad, or anybody else.
I felt awful for her. Her husband was a hard-working man, but he was quiet, not a super-communicative man from what I could tell. She told me she didn’t have many friends. She’d been friendly with a neighbor who’d moved and her best friend since childhood had died suddenly the year before, so she really didn’t have anyone. They were dealing with their grief individually, not leaning on one another for support and it seemed very depressing in the Hanson household despite that Luke had been gone over eight months. I suggested, last visit, that I take her out shopping or to a movie next visit… do something besides sit in the house and look at pictures of Luke everywhere. She had a practical shrine to him in the living room. She and her husband spent all their non-working / non-sleeping hours in that room, and they did it by being surrounded by their only son, their very dead son, and yet not talking about it, about their emotions, about much of anything.