Damon had just finished changing Ricky’s bed sheets when the telephone rang. He started not to answer it, but didn’t feel like hearing his mother’s mouth, if she was forced to come all the way from the basement to answer the phone. She was in the middle of washing clothes, a chore she hated. She wouldn’t put an extension in the washroom downstairs because she didn’t want them sneaking in the basement and staying on the phone all night long.
Damon was thinking about his son; thinking about how much he loved him. Damon didn’t think there was anybody in the world that he loved more. He got a slight pang in his chest region when Brielle popped into his mind, but he told himself for the thousandth time that she was better off without him and all of his responsibilities. She was too young to be tied down to him and his baby. Besides, he had studying to do.
Ricky had been at Damon’s parents’ house for two straight weeks and everybody was a little down when Sasha came for him. Damon knew that Sasha’s mother was still mad about the baby and Sasha didn’t have too many maternal instincts so, Ricky would be back in a few days. Sasha and her mother feuded regularly. Whenever she got put out for back talking, she brought the baby to Damon.
Damon dropped the used sheets into the laundry basket outside his door on the way to the kitchen. He picked up the phone and answered.
“Hello.”
“Hello, this is Sparrow Health Center Labs, calling for a Mr. Damon Hamilton, said the deep, female voice. “This call is from Dr. Evers office.”
“This is Damon,” he said.
“We’ve completed the paternity testing, Mr. Hamilton,” said the voice. “It has been determined that Mr. Ricardo Anderson is not your son.”
“What?”
“We’ve completed the blood type testing, and there is no possible way that you could be this baby’s father,” said Dr. Evers. “We have notified the court. We will be sending out written confirmation of that fact in today’s mail.”
“But, he is my son,” said Damon. Disbelief and rage warred in his chest. “I’ve been taking care of him.”
“I’m sorry. Ms. Sasha Anderson is blood type A. You have blood type O. This baby is type AB,” said Dr. Evers. “That means that you are not this child’s father. A baby’s blood type is determined by a combination of its parent’s blood type.”
“She told me that he was mine,” said Damon. His chest was so tight that he could feel himself starting to wheeze. “He’s even named after me. His name is Ricardo Damon.”
“We also conducted a DNA test as ordered by the Circuit Court and you are not this baby’s father,” said Dr. Evers. “It is conclusive. I’m so sorry.”
“Can you talk to my mother?” he asked. He did not understand why his hearing wasn’t working properly.
“Certainly,” said Dr. Evers.
Damon called his mother to the phone in a trance.
“What boy?” she said, huffing from having stomped up the stairs.
“Phone for you,” he said, in a dead tone of voice. She took the phone from him, but not before she gave him a very close look with narrowed eyes.
“What is it?” she asked him as she put the receiver to her ear.
Damon turned and staggered to the bedroom that he shared with Ricky. He slammed the door and snatched the Winnie the Pooh crib sheets off the bed. The sheets tore like his heart. Next he ripped the bumper off and threw it across the room. He yanked the mattress off the crib. He smashed the first rung on the crib with his fist. By the time his mother rushed into the room and grabbed him he was halfway to destroying the crib and his hand was throbbing. He yanked away from his mother and saw that she was crying, too.
Sasha
Sasha looked at the letter in front of her. Even after she had gotten the call from the medical laboratory she had held out hope. But the letter had come in the mail to day. Damon was not Ricky’s father.
“Why do you keep looking at that piece of paper?” asked her mother. “Nothing has changed. That which is done in the dark will come to light.”
Sasha said nothing.
“I sued that boy for nothing,” said mother. “I spent all that money, based on your lies.”
“I’m sorry, mama,” said Sasha. She looked at her mother fearfully.
“Don’t you call me mama,” said mama. “Who is this baby’s father?”
Sasha could feel the tears well. She covered her face with her hands.
Brielle
“You want to go to the prom with me?”
Brielle looked up from her literature book. She was studying for her test on ‘Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck. She’d already read the book and watched the movie, but she needed to solidify the literary terms in her mind so that she could ace the test.
“What?” she asked, looking up slightly, disorientated. “Oh, hi, Chauncey.” The librarian gave them a dirty look and Chauncey gestured for Brielle to step outside the library doors with him.
Brielle followed him to the doors and Chauncey opened one of the double doors and gestured for her to precede him.
She walked a few feet to stand clear of the doors.
“I wanted to know if you wanted to go to prom with me,” asked Chauncey, cocky and sure of himself.
Brielle looked at Chauncey, meeting his eyes with a cool confidence. He’d been very nice to her since her break up with Damon, always asking how she was and trying to carry her books. Before Damon, he’d never looked at her except to call her the stork or jail bait. She didn’t know what had brought about the change in attitude but she didn’t get the vibe that whatever Chauncey had in store for her would be to her benefit. Most of the football team
