Wallet? Check.
Several forms of identification? Check.
Diaper bag with all of the necessities?
Check.
I gather as much as she can into my free hand and grip the car seat handle in my other. It's only my second time venturing out of the house since we came home from the hospital. The first time was my initial trip to the DNA testing center to have blood taken from myself and the baby. Though my mother insisted that I should stay home, this trip couldn't be delayed any longer.
The sooner the paternity test results are read, the sooner Eli will take responsibility for his part in our son's life.
18 weeks into my pregnancy, when I told Eli that the baby wasn't Drew's, he laughed in my face.
"You can't just run to me when Drew isn't interested in playing house with you anymore," he said.
He maintained that anger until he received a petition to appear in court to establish custody and parenting time of our son, Elijah Goldsworthy II. His lawyer promptly filed the request for a paternity test. That was when Eli got really angry.
"Goddammit, Clare! Is this some kind of sick way to get me back? Naming your kid after me? It's not going to work," he screamed into the phone.
I hung up and held little Eli to my chest, trying not to sob too hard, trying not to awaken him, trying to hold it together and failing so miserable.
The little boy, all of 3 weeks old now, is the spitting image of his father. Tiny bowed lips, curly, dark brown hair, even the same nose. It's why I gave him his father's name, in hopes that Eli will realize that the child looks too much like him to belong to anyone else. Knowing Eli, it's unlikely. He'll be so closed off that he'll probably refuse to even look at the baby. He's still so angry that I slept with Drew.
His anger makes me angry. We weren't together at the time. I didn't belong to Eli at that time and I don't belong to him now. If he's going to punish his son because he's angry at me, then I guess he's not the kind of person I want my child around anyway.
It's hard though. It's really hard to think about being a single mom.
If Drew Torres of all people was going to step up and be a father, why can't Eli do the same?
!
I arrive at the DNA testing center before Eli. It's my second time at the center I take a seat in the lobby and set the car seat on the floor next to my seat. I'm so nervous and high-strung, yet exhausted at the same time. The baby doesn't sleep consistently through the night, and I'm woken up every few hours to feed or change him. My mother and Glen try to help as much as they can, but I don't want to burden them. They didn't choose to have a baby around, so I try to take on as much as I possibly can and exhaust myself in the process.
I close my eyes for just a few moments and nearly doze off in my chair.
The door opens and I force my eyes to do the same.
It's Eli.
The sight of him brings a lump into my throat and I avert my eyes from his stony face.
"Clare," he says coldly.
"Eli," I choke back.
His eyes wander from the wall to the car seat. He doesn't as much as flinch at the sight of it before he flops down in a seat on the other side of the room.
The air in the room is thick and awkward, suffocating me as I watch the clock tick by. I try not to look at Eli and he does the same, until the baby's cry breaks the silence and echoes through the room.
I forget about my discomfort for a moment and lean over to scoop up my crying son. His face is an angry red color and his eyes are squeezed shut. His high-pitched wailing sounds louder than usual. I silently say a prayer of thanks that we are alone in this room, save for the receptionist and Eli.
"Shhh… shhh, it's okay baby. It's okay. You're okay," I coo while rocking him softly in my arms. I know he isn't hungry and his diaper is fresh. I'm not sure what brings on his upset but I try my best to fix it.
I look up at Eli is staring at us, an unreadable expression on his face.
No time to worry about it now.
I hold the baby even closer and sing quietly to him. My embarrassment over singing in public is taken over by my desire to comfort little Eli.
I close my eyes as I sing to him, calming myself in the hopes that he will feel my relaxation and it will sooth him. In a few moments, it works and the loud cries fade into quiet whimpers.
"Good boy," I whisper to him, planting a small kiss on his head. When I look up, Eli is standing in front of me, staring right at me. His anger seems to be gone, but I can't quite figure out how he is feeling.
"Can I sit here?" He asks me, his eyes glued to his feet.
"Sure," I scoot over a bit and he sits in the seat next to mine. We are practically touching at this point.
I risk a look in his direction. He's not looking at me or the baby, but at his hands, which are tightly wound together in his lap.
"What does he look like?" Eli asks. I can see tension in every inch of him as he asks.
"He is right here. See for yourself," I reply.
"Please, Clare… Just describe him to me. What does he look like?"
I look at Eli and then at his namesake. The similarities are even more striking in person.
"Like you. He looks just like you… He has your hair, your lips, your nose…" I tell him, looking back and forth between them. The emotion I feel is so heavy in this moment. Love, adoration, fear, nausea, exhaustion, too many things to feel at once.
"If I look at him, and he looks like Drew, I'm leaving," he says firmly, still staring at his hands, which are now shaking. He doesn't sound angry; not really, anyway. He sounds scared, though I'm not sure exactly what is causing his fears.
He tears his eyes away from his hands and looks right at our son. A breath catches in his throat and he doesn't say a word, just stares at the tiny little person cradled in my arms.
"Clare Edwards and Elijah Goldsworthy for Elijah Goldsworthy II? You can come back now," a woman calls out, breaking the silence between us.
Eli doesn't move at all, just stares at his son in awe, despite the prodding from the woman. We are seconds away from hearing the results of the test that Eli demanded, yet he doesn't seem to be in any rush to get back there.
"Eli, we need to go," I tell him, carefully standing up with the baby still in my arms.
"He looks just like me," Eli chokes out.
"He does, and after they read the results, you'll have the rest of your life to look at him," I say, audaciously.
I have no reason to be doubtful or hesitant. I know who the baby's father is. The test results are only going to make it real for Eli. It's been real for me all along.
When we finally get back there, the doctor informs us that Eli is a 99.997 percent match, the highest percent that it can be. I smile as I take in the look on Eli's face. Acceptance, relief, nerves, and most importantly, love. Without words, he takes the baby from my arms into his own.
We walk out of the building and Eli doesn't let go of him for even a moment. We settle onto a bench in front of the building and Eli finally opens his mouth to speak.
"You didn't lie to me," he says.
"Never," I say, stroking little Eli's foot as I look up at his father.
"I was just so angry that you were with Drew. I was angry that our plans were ruined," he explains.
"Plans change, Eli. But that doesn't have to be a bad thing," I tell him.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, that I didn't believe you," he says to me, looking me in the eyes with the most sincere expression I've ever seen on his face.
"You are here now."
Eli nods and leans down to kiss our boy on the forehead, "I am. And I'm not going anywhere."
FIN