Not supposed to mess around with your sponsor. Anna told me that the first time we met. “We’re partners,” she said, “I look after you and you look after me. You start messing around and all that shit starts to get in the way of what really matters. That’s staying clean.” Thing is, I always been hooked on something. It was my ma’s tit, then it was smack after that. I've never been clean. I just change my fix. I could get off that shit, as long as I could get hooked on her
.
First it was just her laugh, seeing the sun on her hair, seeing her coming to meet me, hearing her call my name, her moves at the club, the feel of sweat on her skin, the smell of the bed when she’s gone, the look on her face when she sips her coffee first thing in the morning. I couldn't get enough. I didn't need anything else.
We broke the rule, but we stayed clean. Got a nice job at the airport. Got a nice place. Paid the bills. Got a savings account. Never had one. Felt nice. I think it was cause I was finally thinking about what would make me happy not just tomorrow or this weekend, but next year, and even after that. Things made sense.
But you know, people are really living like they're skating on a frozen lake. Everything is pretty and the ice is smooth and shit, and you think everything is fine and it always will be. But sometimes, the ice gets thin. You wander in the wrong place, you're gonna break through, and then you're gonna drown. Simple as that. That water is below our feet, every one of us. I mean it.
See I don't really remember if it was her idea, or if I talked her into it. I know she told me her body was broken because of all the stuff she did when she was young. She knew I wanted a little boy, and I think maybe she came around to it on her own. But then I think I'm just lying to myself.
People only risk their lives for something they love. Maybe it's a man or a woman, or maybe some kinda cause, or maybe even money, but they only risk it for something they love. And that's what really kills me. She only did it cause she loved me. Gotta live with that.
I knew something was wrong the minute I came home. There's a cup a tea with the bag still in it, cold. A chair was down on its side on the floor. Her phone was on the counter, but she wasn’t home.
Doctor said congrats, I'm a father. Took me to see him. He was a little thing, stick thin, in a little bed under a glass box, and buncha tubes coming out of his mouth and his arm. Machines beeping. Papers on the counter. “Extremely premature.” “Extremely Low Birth Weight.” “Low chances of survival, high risk for disability.” I don't remember them telling me about Anna. I think I was just sitting there staring at my own reflection in the glass, and I was already underwater. But yeah, Anna didn't make it. She died that day.
Doc said I could visit the baby as much as I like, and that they do better when a parent holds them every day. The warmth of your body, sound of your voice and your beating heart makes a big difference in how well they do. It lets em know somebody love em and that they got a family. I didn't come a single fuckin day. Not a single fuckin day.
After that, I was either drunk or high or both. I lost my job. I got behind on rent. I went to Anna's funeral and her father kicked me out for something I did. I don't even remember it. I think what really got me was that the whole world just kept trucking on like nothing even happened. The sun kept shining. I saw people walking by, talking, laughing. And know what? Why shouldn't they? Bad shit happens every day. My baby was spending the first months of his life alone in a glass case with tubes coming outta him. His momma was dead. Nothing mattered. I was ready to die too.
Got messages from the doc. First one was about how he's doing and I couldn't fuckin understand half the words she said, and maybe I didnt wanna. Then came a bill, and I found out one week of stay in that hospital was more than my rent for two months. I'm ashamed to say I thought more than once about tellin em he ain't mine. But when I think how Anna did what she did to bring him to me, the shame stopped me cold. So I reached for the bottle and tried to forget about it all.
Then I got a voicemail. It was child protective services. They gotta make sure I'm ready to take him home. I realized if I don't take care of my shit, they gonna take him from me, forever. It shook me.
My place was fucked, had shit everywhere, I looked like shit, and I knew it'd get worse before it got better. I ain't got any baby stuff and I ain't even got a clue what kinda baby stuff you need. I didn't even think I ought to be taking care of any kid, but I knew I had to try, because if I didn't, well, what the hell was all this even for?
The next day, by some crazy chance, I saw my little brother at the bus stop across from the grocery store. Hadn't seen him since he was 12. He had the decency to listen to my story. He asked if he could see the baby. Didn't wanna, but I said yeah. Down at the hospital they took one look at me and asked if I was sick. Said yeah, because the truth was worse. They told me I couldn't go in, because the babies can't get sick, which was fine with me. They did let my brother in. It was about two hours when he came back. He said they let him hold the baby, and it was the first time anybody held him. He said, he's definitely my kid. Something about the look in his eyes.
It broke me. It ain't fair. It just ain't fair. This wasn't how it's supposed to be. When he was born, his ma was supposed to be holding him, and I was supposed to come in and sit beside them both. Anna was supposed to look up at me and tell me he look like me. We were supposed to look at each other and laugh and smile and shit. We were supposed to come home together. I don't feel like a dad. Nothing like that happened. Anna died and the baby stayed and I went home alone. I wasn't a dad. I was just some fuckin weirdo.
The baby still needs a name, but I ain't ready to name a baby. And besides, Social Services was gonna take one look at me and take him away. My little bro asked me if I wanna keep him. I said yeah because I couldn't listen to myself say no. He'd help me on two conditions. One, we'd live at his place and we'd live by his rules. Two, he catches one whiff of any junk or booze and he takes him straight to Social Services.
The next week I moved into my little brother's place. When I get there, he tells me to put down all my boxes because he gonna show me something. Turns out he's been busy. He's got a room all decked out, crib with a little mobile, baby blankets, a little dresser filled with little baby shirts and socks, little teddy bear, toys, little baby books, everything. He got diapers and wipes and shit. It's all there. And he points to a futon on the side and says that's where I'm gonna be sleeping from now on.
Honestly, it was that moment that I finally got my head straight, and I only got my little bro to thank for it. Even though things didn't turn out like they do in the stories, fact is I'm a dad, and there's a little baby out there who's waiting for me to figure that out. I ain't afraid to admit I was cryin when I did. Big fat tears, and I was hugging him and sayin shit but not making much sense. Seeing that little nursery, I really felt the love, pullin me up outta that cold water under the ice, and suddenly I was up in the sun, and my eyes were burnin, but I was warm again. I could really breathe again.
The morning social services came, my bro put makeup on me to hide all the shit my body was going through. The lady from social services came and had a look around. She says she wouldn't a let a baby anyone near me with my background, but she liked the apartment and she liked my brother, and she said the foster system ain't much better these days. So I passed the test. I got to keep my baby. I love my brother so much and I’m never gonna be able to pay him back for that.
When the call came from the hospital that the baby's ready to come home, I was finally ready to see him. It was the first time since the day Anna died. Nothing was gonna be easy. He had a huge list of problems I couldn't understand. He had a bunch of equipment I needed to rent and a bunch of medications that were expensive as fuck. I’m never gonna be out from under the debt. They really needed a name then, and I named him right then and there. Jacob. Wasn't my first choice, but Anna loved that name, and now it reminds of everything we hoped for.
But you know, it's been some years and he's been doing alright. Dunno know for sure, but if I didn't have Jacob here reminding me of everything I'd learned, I think I'd be dead. We're looking out for each other, like partners. Me, him, and my little bro. Not what I had planned for my life. Not what my little bro had planned either. It's rough, not gonna lie, but it works. Somehow, we're happy.
So anyway, I just wanna leave y'all will a simple message. Everybody, and I mean everybody, we’re all skating on ice. Maybe you can't see it when things are going well, but that cold cold water is there, waiting. Remember that. Any moment something crazy can happen, car accident, you or someone you love could get sick or get cancer, maybe you lose your job, or maybe you get betrayed by someone you trust, and then you fall under, and before you realize what happened you're drowning, and the water is cold and dark and you're freezing and you can't tell which way is up and if you don't hang on, the current’s gonna sweep you away. Try and keep the people you love real close, because someone you love, someone you may not expect, can really help pull you out. And when you're out above the ice, remember to reach out to people, cause it's hard to tell sometimes that somebody is under the ice, and if you're not there today, well, the opportunity to help could be gone before you know it. That's it! Hope my little story means something to ya. Peace and love, and Happy Valentine's Day!