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Lisa’s mother calls him two days after the fact to tell him that his baby is born. Lincoln wants to be mad. He is mad actually and it’s hard to stay civil to the sharp tongued woman on the other line to work out a time he can come and see his child.
“Lincoln Junior,” she manages to say with a mixture of distain and amusement.
Lincoln’s shocked into speechlessness, which is probably her intention. He hadn’t even thought of the child’s name (the boy’s name, it’s a boy) or the fact that he didn’t know the name until now or have any input in picking it (which he supposes is deserved), but still it’s…
“That’s my name.”
“Yes, well, I certainly didn’t vote on it,” her sneer drips over the line. “Lisa seems to think that you should have some influence in your child’s life. I told her that it would be too much to ask for from a juvenile convict but she -,”
Lincoln’s heard enough. Same shit, different day. He interrupts her rant. “I’ll be there in the morning. Is 9 o’clock okay?”
“That’s rather early. Are you sure you’ll-,”
“I’ll be there.” He hangs up.
.*.
Drugstore flowers, two hastily wrapped bottles, and a teddy bear aren’t exactly the gifts that Lincoln wants to bring when meeting his son for the first time.
He wishes he had more. He wishes he was more and could offer the boy everything that he never had – which was a hell of a lot.
But, standing on the stoop of Lisa’s parent’s townhouse, he only has a second to regret his meager offerings before Lisa’s father opens the door.
Mr. Rix is a few inches taller than him, thin-limbed but imposing with that air of paternal protection that almost causes Lincoln to step back. Yet, Lincoln holds his ground and meets the hard stare of the man he’s met only once before and under very different circumstances.
“Principal Rix.”
“Lincoln.” The older man opens the door a fraction wider. It’s not an invitation and Lincoln doesn’t dare think so. He can hear a baby crying inside the house. “You working?”
Lincoln licks his lips. “Yes sir. At the docks.”
“For how long?”
“Since you – I mean, since…”
The older man’s eyes narrow and he finishes, “Since you got out of juvie.”
“Yes sir.”
Lisa’s father examines him from head to toe. Doubtless, trying to find a lie in the holes of his Wal-Mart jeans or the worn soles of his work boots, then he steps aside.
“Come meet my grandson.”
Lincoln nods, taking note of the obvious declaration of ownership. To the man who called the police and expelled him, just because Lincoln provided the sperm doesn’t make the teenager the baby’s father. The slight increases the simmering anger in Lincoln’s chest but, as he’s become accustomed to doing, he pushes it down and away.
He deserves this animosity, Lincoln thinks, because he was stupid and careless. Because he put himself first too many times and now he’s got to learn to grow up like the guards told him when he was inside and the judge ordered when he was made an example of to the rest of the delinquents awaiting trial.
The baby’s crying heralds the way straight up to Lisa’s room.
Lisa and her mother are sitting on the bed holding a squirming blanket and Lincoln wants to say something to the woman he hasn’t seen for nearly eight months, the mother of his child, but the words escape him. His eyes are glued to a tiny hand waving in the air, the sound of healthy lungs that remind him of when Michael was just that small.
Someone takes the gifts off his hands and Lisa’s mother comes into his line of sight, blocking the child. Lincoln frowns and moves to look around her when Lisa’s father holds him back with a hand on his shoulder. A sound passes through his throat that might be a growl.
His son is there, fully realized and no longer a looming deadline. His. A tiny person that doesn’t know about his past and will rely on him for his future. Someone to start over with, who will have a family that will love the child and never leave.
Never leave, no matter what. Till death.
It’s Lisa who asks, “Do you want to hold him?”
Lincoln blinks and notices that her parents are gone and it’s just Lisa with the baby on the bed.
He wants to hold the child, Lincoln Junior (that’s his son’s name) but says instead, “I’m sorry that I wasn’t there when he was born.”
“My parents didn’t want me to call you until I was discharged,” Lisa tells him. “I’m sorry. You had the right to be there.”
Lisa looks pale but healthy. Her face is round with baby weight that Lincoln thinks is much more attractive than the stick figure she was when they met. She smiles and Lincoln holds his breath at an unexpected wave of affection. She’s the mother of his child and they’re forever bound.
That’s a heavy thought and he has to sit down next to her because his knees feel a little weak.
The baby makes a noise as if to say, This is about me. Get out of your head, and Lincoln looks closely at the child.
Dark, dark hair, jet black and curly with blue eyes like Lisa’s and a Betty Boop mouth that opens in a yawn.
“Is it time for a nap?” Lincoln asks Lisa.
Lisa smirks and touches Lincoln Junior’s cherub cheek. “It’s always time for a nap.”
He watches the baby react to the touch and lean into his mother’s warmth and suddenly he’s ready. “Can I hold him now?”
Lisa glances up at him and seems surprised at his interest. “Of course.”
She stands and there’s shifting and tucking and cupping, then Lincoln Junior’s in his arms. His child, weightless and fragile, is lying right next to his heart and his eyes are open, staring straight at Lincoln for the first time.
Despite all of the preparations Lincoln’s done for this moment he’s still stunned.
Then, a tiny fist waves in his face, right under to his nose, and Lincoln laughs.
“Hey there little slugger.”
The baby stares, silent for the first time since Lincoln arrived, and Lincoln may be cracking up but he swears that the baby’s trying to figure him out. He gives the child time to look and looking his fill in kind. He can see little pieces of himself in the boy and while he’s proud, he’s also hoping that the baby inherits only the best traits.
Lincoln Junior yawns again like he’s done with introductions for now and Lincoln inhales milky baby breath. He knows he’s grinning like a loon and Lisa grabs his attention again when she teases him.
“You’re a goner.”
Lincoln nods, stroking his son’s soft forehead. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
The baby’s eyes close and Lisa gets up, backs out of the room. “He hasn’t quieted down since we woke up. You spend some time with him. I’ll be in the living room.”
Again, Lincoln nods, the whole of his interest on the small bundle in his arms. When they’re alone, he relaxes and tries to get used to this unexpected feeling of peace. He’s not freaked out any more. He hasn’t been since he laid eyes on his baby and he welcomes the rare moment of absolute confidence.
Of all of the bad things he’s earned, Lincoln can’t imagine one good that he’s done to deserve this child. But he’ll take whatever he can get.
“LJ,” Lincoln mutters to his son. “That’ll be your nickname, alright? ‘Cause as much I love your full name, it’s a mouthful.”
The baby shifts in his sleep and lets out a tiny squeak.
Lincoln smiles. “Yeah, I like it too.”
END