I shrug. “I don’t know.”
“How can you not know? Doesn’t she call?”
I shake my head. My finger starts playing with my lip as I process her question. “His mom… she showed up one day and just left him on my living room floor. He was three days old.”
“Wow. Why didn’t you marry her before all of this happened?”
It’s not going to matter how I answer this question. She’s going to see me as the quintessential rocker who sleeps around. I couldn’t be farther from that image. I shake my head and let out a small growl in frustration. I cover my face with my hands, rubbing my hat back and forth.
“Quinn is a product of a one night stand –”
“So –“ she starts to interrupt me, but I hold up my hand asking her to stop. I need to have this all out so there’s no misunderstanding.
“His mom drugged me. After a show, we went to the bar and I’ve never been much of a drinker, but that night I got hammered. I remember waking up with her, but I don’t remember anything else. Few months later, she knocks on my door with a carseat carrier and kept calling him it. She clearly didn’t want him and honestly, neither did I.”
“What did you do?”
“Called my mom and told her I was in trouble.”
“Hi, honey.”
“Mom?” My voice breaks as I call out for her.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m in trouble.”
“Are you at home?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m on my way.” She hangs up, but I don’t move. My phone is glued to my ear listening to the silence on the other end. The baby… it whimpers. I look at the contraption it’s in and mentally tick off the seconds it takes my mom to get to my place. I’m afraid it’s going to start crying. I don’t like crying. I’ll have to leave the room if it does.
My front door swings open, banging against the table that my mom placed there. She said it was decorative and added character, but apparently now it’s a doorstopper.
“Harrison, what’s wrong?”
I love my mom. Along with my sister, she’s my best friend and my confidant. She’s standing in front of me, her eyes full of worry. I point and she looks behind her before looking back at me. Her eyes squint and I see the confusion written all over her face.
“Why are earth would you ever offer to babysit?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t.”
“Is there a baby in that carseat?”
I nod. “The mom just left it here.”
“It?”
“She didn’t say —”
“Oh, Harrison,” my mom gasps as she removes the blanket that has been covering the baby. She bends down and does something with her hands and before I know it, she’s holding the baby against her shoulder. She starts rocking back and forth, patting the baby’s back.
“What’s his name?”
His? I shrug. “Don’t know.”
“How can you not know?”