“That’s all you’ve got to say?”
His mother rolled her eyes at him and held up her right hand.
“I’m not stupid,” she said.
“What?”
“You have been moping around here like you lost your last friend,” she said, ticking off reasons with her left hand. “You haven’t been arrested so I figured you’re not into drugs. You like Brielle too much to be gay. You young folks are not very creative. It was either you got some girl pregnant or you flunked all your classes and can’t graduate in June.”
“Oh,” said Damon. His mother was scary sometimes.
“I knew something was wrong. I saw Brielle yesterday and she was fine. So I’ve been waiting for you to drop a bomb on me.”
He kept staring at his mother, not daring to breathe.
“What, you expected me to start crying and acting crazy?” she asked. She rolled her eyes. “Breathe before you pass out.”
“I don’t know,” said Damon, still wary. Usually his mother was very emotional.
“I’d like to smack you in the nuts for being stupid. But it’s too late for that. So, I repeat,” she said. “What are you two going to do?”
“I don’t know yet,” said Damon, wincing at the thought of being smacked in the nuts. His father still hovered in the doorway.
“You knew about this?” she asked him, eyes narrowing.
“Damon just told me about two hours ago,” said Mr. Hamilton, defensively. “I had to regroup before we told you.”
“I thought your daddy told you to leave that girl alone,” said Mrs. Hamilton, eyeing Damon just as narrowly.
“I did,” said Damon.
Mrs. Hamilton snorted.
“How far along is she?”
“Seven months,” Damon said. His mother’s eyes bulged out.
“Oh,” she said. “So this is from last school year, huh? And you’re just now telling us.” She looked like she was going make good on the left ball smash.
“Yep, but I didn’t know,” said Damon, hastily. “She was living in a shelter up in Grand Rapids by her father. She just came back here and told me.”
“So, you do know what you are going to do,” said Mrs. Hamilton, looking disgusted. “You are getting ready to have a baby. Have you talked to her parents?”
“Her mom,” said Damon, nodding. “But she is really angry. She had kicked her out, but she let Sasha come back recently. She hit Sasha and I thought that she was going to hit me, too. She acted like she hated me.”
“I’ll bet she was angry. And she probably does hate you. You got her teenaged daughter pregnant,” said Mrs. Hamilton. “She now has another mouth to feed.”
“I’m going to take care of my own baby,” said Damon, fiercely.
“Boy, please,” said his mother, with a derisive snort. “You make a hundred and twelve dollars a week. How much formula and diapers do you think that will buy? You still have to finish high school. You are going to college.”
“I don’t know how I can do that and still take care of my baby,” said Damon, squaring his shoulders. “I was thinking I could quit school for a year and work at the laundry full time.” His father groaned from the doorway.
“Boy,” said his mother, standing up. She dumped white socks all over the floor in her agitation. Unlike his father, she didn’t think Boy was in the jungle with Tarzan, and had no problem using slave master epithets. She poked him in the chest with one long finger. She spoke to him through clenched teeth.
“You are not eighteen yet. You cannot take care of a baby without our help. You can barely wash your own behind. You are going to finish school and take advantage of all the help the school can give you to further your education. Now, I think that I am taking this whole situation pretty well. Don’t mess with me on this. I don’t want to have to kill you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. He felt some of his tension ease but he was still deeply ashamed.
“Now,” said his mother, rubbing her forehead with her hand to stave off a headache. “You bring that girl over here so we can meet her properly. We will sit down and figure out how we are going to work this out. Lord, last semester you were trying to get stabbed and this one you’re going to become a father. Could you try to save something for adulthood? When you’re on your own dime?” Damon leaned over to give his mother a hug.
“Thank you, mama,” he said. She rolled her eyes at him and he left the room, after he hugged his father. His father returned the hug warmly.
“I need a drink,” Mama said, as Damon walked down the hall to his room.
Damon collapsed onto his bed in relief. He clapped his hand over his mouth to stifle hysterical laughter. His mother almost never drank.
Abruptly, he lost the desire to laugh and felt tears forming. He could feel his mother’s hurt and disappointment in him. He could feel the oppression another mouth to feed was going to have on his father’s already overburdened shoulders. For a moment, Damon wanted to die. He ran through a litany of ways. He shuddered at the thought of cutting his wrists and he didn’t think he could hang himself. He didn’t have access to any guns. A knock at the door interrupted his macabre thoughts.
“Damon,’ said his father, opening the door and peering in.
“Yes, sir,” said Damon, sitting up.
“Your mother and I are very upset about this,” he said.
“I know,” said Damon, feeling even worse.
“Well, don’t be killing yourself or anything stupid like that,” said his father. “We’ll be fine. It will take us some time but we’ll get past this.” Damon looked at him, surprised that this father had read his mind.
“I’m sorry, dad,” said Damon, around the Africa sized knot in his throat.
“Yes,” said his father. “I know. Everybody is entitled to make mistakes, Damon. You just gotta pay the bill when it comes due.”
Damon blinked back the tears that had been standing in his eyes for
