He gon’ call me Daddy.
“Maverick?”
Ma touch my shoulder.
“You’ve got this,” she says. “I got you.”
She don’t just mean the diaper.
“A’ight.”
I change my first diaper with her help. This nurse come in and see us struggling—it’s been a while since Ma did this—and give us some tips. Li’l man still fuss even though he clean. Ma hold him against her shoulder and rub his back.
“It’s okay, Man-Man,” she coos. “It’s all right.”
He soon calm down. Guess that’s all he needed to know.
I grab his bag, and we go to the waiting room. My son’s car seat on the floor with the DNA papers lying inside it. Ms. Robinson is gone.
So is Iesha.
Three
“That trifling heffa! And I don’t mean Iesha,” Ma says. “I mean her momma!”
Ma ain’t stopped fussing since we left the clinic.
At first I thought Iesha and Ms. Robinson stepped outside. Nah, they left. One of the nurses said she pointed out they were leaving the car seat. Ms. Robinson told her, “We don’t need it anymore,” and shoved Iesha out the door.
We went straight to their house. I banged on the doors, looked through the windows. Nobody answered. We had no choice but to bring li’l man home with us.
I climb our porch steps, carrying him in his car seat. He so caught up in the toys dangling from the handle that he don’t know his momma left him like he nothing.
Ma shove the front door open. “I had a funny feeling when I saw all them clothes in that diaper bag. They shipped him off without a word!”
I set the car seat on the coffee table. What the hell just happened? For real, man. I suddenly got a whole human being in my care when I never even took care of a dog.
“What we do now, Ma?”
“We obviously have to keep him until we find out what Iesha and her momma are up to. This might be for the weekend, but as trifling as they are . . .” She close her eyes and hold her forehead. “Lord, I hope this girl hasn’t abandoned this baby.”
My heart drop to my kicks. “Abandoned him? What I’m supposed to—”
“You’re gonna do whatever you have to do, Maverick,” she says. “That’s what being a parent means. Your child is now your responsibility. You’ll be changing his diapers. You’ll be feeding him. You’ll be dealing with him in the middle of the night. You—”
Had my whole life turned upside down, and she don’t care.
That’s Ma for you. Granny say she came in the world ready for whatever. When things fall apart, she quick to grab the pieces and make something new outta them.
“Are you listening to me?” she asks.
I scratch my cornrows. “I hear you.”
“I said are you listening? There’s a difference.”
“I’m listening, Ma.”
“Good. They left enough diapers and formula to last the weekend. I’ll call your aunt ’Nita, see if they have Andreanna’s old crib. We can set it up in your room.”
“My room? He gon’ keep me awake!”
She set her hand on her hip. “Who else he’s supposed to keep awake?”
“Man,” I groan.
“Don’t ‘man’ me! You’re a father now. It’s not about you anymore.” Ma pick up the baby bag. “I’ll fix him a bottle. Can you keep an eye on him, or is that a problem?”
“I’ll watch him,” I mumble.
“Thank you.” She go to the kitchen. “‘He gon’ keep me awake.’ The nerve!”
I plop down on the couch. Li’l Man stare at me from the car seat. That’s what I’m gon’ call him for now, Li’l Man. King Jr. don’t feel right when he my son.
My son. Wild to think that one li’l condom breaking turned me into somebody’s father. I sigh. “Guess it’s you and me now, huh?”
I hold my hand toward him, and he grip my finger. He small to be so strong. “Gah-lee,” I laugh. “You gon’ break my finger.”
He try to put it in his mouth, but I don’t let him. My fingernails dirty as hell. That only make him whine.
“Ay, ay, chill.” I unstrap him and lift him out. He way heavier than he look. I try to rest him in my arms and support his neck like Ma told me to. He whimper and squirm till suddenly he wailing. “Ma!”
She come back with the bottle. “What, Maverick?”
“I can’t hold him right.”
She adjust him in my arms. “You relax, and he’ll relax. Now here, give him the bottle.” She hand it to me, and I put it in his mouth. “Lower it a little bit, Maverick. You don’t wanna feed him fast. There you go. When he’s halfway through it, burp him. Burp him again when he’s done.”
“How?”
“Hold him against your shoulder and pat his back.”
Hold him right, lower the bottle, burp him. “Ma, I can’t—”
“Yes, you can. In fact, you’re doing it now.”
I hadn’t realized Li’l Man stopped crying. He suck the bottle and grip my shirt, staring up at me.
I look at him. I mean look at him. Yeah, I see me—ain’t no denying he mine. More than that, I see my son.
My heart balloon in my chest.
“Hey, man.” For some reason this feel like I’m meeting him for the first time. “Hey.”
“I’m gonna throw his clothes in the washing machine,” Ma says. “Who knows what kinda germs they’ve got at that house.”
Don’t nobody hate germs like Ma. She got asthma, and the weirdest stuff can set her off.
“Thanks, Ma.”
She go back to the laundry room. I watch my son, and I gotta admit as much as I’m in awe I ain’t never been this scared in my life. He a whole human being that I helped make. Got a heart, lungs, a brain partly ’cause of me, and now I basically gotta keep him alive.
This almost too much. Definitely not how I planned to spend my Friday ni—
Oh, dang. The party. Ain’t no way Ma gon’ let me go.
I stop feeding Li’l Man long enough to dial Lisa’s number on the cordless phone. I hold it to my ear with my shoulder. It ring a couple of times, then she go, “Hey, Mav.”
I always forget that her momma got caller ID. “Hey. This not a bad time, is it?”
There’s a muffled sound like she moving around. “Nope. Just putting an outfit together for the party. Why? What’s up?”
I really feel like shit now. “Umm . . . I can’t take you out tonight. Something came up.”
“Everything all right?”
“Yeah. My momma want me to stay home and take care of stuff here.”
That ain’t a lie. It just ain’t all of the truth. This baby in my arms ain’t exactly a phone conversation, you know?
“Sounds like my momma,” Lisa says, and I can practically hear her roll her eyes. “I could come over and keep you company if you want.”
“Nah!”
I startled Li’l Man. His face scrunch up.
“My bad,” I tell him and Lisa, and bounce him a bit. Please, God, don’t let him cry. “You ain’t gotta spend your Friday watching me do chores. I’m a’ight.”