Summer 1776
George walks his Godson, Bill, every afternoon like clockwork. There are two prevailing schools of thought when it comes to child care. The first method, the natural way, you respond to the child. It is not aiming to manipulate you when it cries, when it shits itself unbeknownst to you it is in fact unbeknownst to them until the smell hits and the chaffing starts, and by that time it’s too late. George being new to the area and unemployed started with the selfless adherence with the will of the baby. This path was subject to feedings at three in the morning, crapping with the door open just in case the child started crying, George had mastered the 2 minute shower on cold and hot. Six months of this regime and George was against a wall. The second method of child rearing, the one championed and demonized across a spectrum of mothers on the internet, is a method of extreme regimentation, regular feedings, naps sandwiched between, and ignoring all crying fits, no matter the time of day, the clause being there is not a dirty diaper. George purchased a book second hand from a woman in George and Bill’s weekly baby singing class. Her name was June. June wondered about George. Why did this spectacled, pudgy, black man have this little white baby boy with him every week? After the week’s class ended and all the parents left with their children, June sprinted from the building leaving the rest of the staff to clean up post exercise. She followed George to the grocery store. When they ran into each other at the cash register he was thumbing through the tabloids.
“I didn’t have you pegged for the type that involves themselves in that sort of junk,” June tapped her foot, eyebrow raised staring at George’s head from behind, he had a paper in front of him as he moved through the checkout line.
“I floss with this. I also like the pictures. It’s funny, every country I’ve been in, these things look the same, it never stops being amazing, this is culture,” George puts the paper back in the hopper alongside the rest of the magazines. June smiles at the back of George’s head envisioning his face when he turns around. What she got was a blank stare. “Thanks again for the book, it’s been a long week.” Her cheeks going flush, she was immediately embarrassed and George went to turn back around.
“I can, er-, can I help you take those home?” Now that she had intruded contingencies began to whirl through her head.
“I didn’t know you lived around here,” the checkout like shortened distance and their time together was coming to an end again, over his shoulder George noticed her purchase, toothpaste and tea bags.
“I followed you,” June lets it slip out not thinking what she was actually saying.
“I thought so,” George looked over his shoulder at June, his face easier than before, he takes off his glasses and wipes them on his shirt, “I’m sorry it’s been a long week. You want to help me? Push Bill in the buggy, that’s what you call it, right?” The noise of the checkout is silent to her ears after hearing this, June squeezes past George and rolls the carriage out of the way. She watches him pay out smiling to the cashier. In the time it takes George to walk to where June had positioned herself, she had occupied herself with Bill. He is all cheeks, eyes closed, like this cooing softly, the image of the cherubs painted in children’s books. June doesn’t have children but this is what she imagined they would be like when things go right. The time she spends in her and George’s mutual meeting ground was balance for the community time bank. All that youthful energy on her hands went towards designing sensory experiences for the enfant body. “Let’s go, June,” George stands by the automatic doors opening and closing behind him.
“Right,” June pulls her head out of the stroller and pushes it out the doors following George into the street. They walk along silently, the sound of cars wooshing by replacing conversation until they reach the threshold.
“So, what’s with the kid, that’s what you’re thinking, right?” They didn’t really talk inside of the confines of the rumpus room, George gave the occasional kudos for a day well done, he comes across a lot more sharp here to her ears. “I mean, single fathers are a dime a dozen, what’s this Black American doing with this little white baby?”
“I’d never---“ June is a little offended at the thought that this is his version of events but oversells outrage.
“Look, I mean, I just don’t do impressions, take my tone of voice as a character flaw,” George stays on the path looking down at his feet, his tone not embarrassed, the tinge of regret comes through in his body language.
“I just wanted to help you out,” June huffs, “anyway, Willie is one of my favorites, I feel it’s my responsibility to my student to make sure his parents are behaving themselves,” she chuckles a little to herself under her breath.
“I’m Bill’s Godfather,” George says it like between teeth.
“Oh, so you’re visiting?” June perks up a little. How nice of him to look after Bill, the book she gave George says that a new mother does need time off. “So, you’re taking over for mommy now and then, that’s so nice.” The pair enter the park at the center of the neighborhood. George starts to walk towards a bench by the duck pond.
“I swear, sheep are counting me,” he takes a seat, “I wish I had a spliff.” June laughs and pushes the buggy alongside the bench and takes a seat next to George.
“Look at daddy dearest, does mummy know about your habit,” June pokes fun at George while checking in on Bill, eyes still closed.
“Bill’s mother was raped and eventually killed along with her girlfriend after carrying the baby to term. I met his mother, Lydia, when she was in boarding school. We went to college together, we never dated, and we fell out of contact then back in contact with each other a few years ago. Bill is 6 months and 3 weeks old. Lyl was coming home from a night out when someone started following her. He followed her all the way home then he kicked through her front door and raped her in the hallway closet while strangling her with the hoover cord. Lyl passed out and woke up in the hospital. The nurse, Cynthia, ended up being a lesbian and the pair really hit it off in the wake of what happened. They were dating for a couple months when Lyl found out she was pregnant. She looked in the mirror and there was the pregnancy, she thought it was an ulcer at first, but there it was. Cynthia moved in and they started a family. She had been looking for the guy that did this secretly. As a kid Cyn was abused, she moonlit in a women’s clinic, she did outreach and education, she fucking cared,” George hadn’t cracked yet, he recites the story looking across the pond at twisted wood coming out of the water. June’s hands have come up over her mouth as she listens. “So she fucking found the guy. This is month number 7. The guy’s name was Thomas, fucking loser. Thomas had been making it a habit. I don’t know anything about the guy other than at Cynthia’s last count 26 women had been, ‘topped’ how he put it. Lydia was about to pop when Cynthia came to her with this information. Lydia had a breakdown, I mean there were pictures, she never saw his face during the rape but there, staring at her smug, shit eating grin, she fucking flipped. Why am I telling you this?” George stopped and looked at June on the verge of tears. “I’m sorry, let’s go---“
“No, finish the story, please,” June blinked tears rolling down her face.
“Lydia bounced back in a couple weeks. It was the final push in the pregnancy, she urged Cynthia to bring the evidence to the police, and she did, but the wheels of justice are just too fucking slow. The police came and got the guy, then he was out on bail, then he took off, like fftpp, just gone, deleted his emails, telephone number gone, social networks scrubbed, presto, complete white wash. I didn’t make it over for the wedding and I missed the birth. This little sucker weighed eight pounds, seven ounces. They took him home and that was that. Three weeks in and one night, Tommy knocks, this time with a shotgun. He kills Lydia, he kills Cynthia, and when it comes time to make it three, he pauses. Bill can sleep through a fucking fire alarm, literally, I fell asleep at the stove frying eggs one night and the smoke alarm was blaring and I only woke up because I installed the alarms with the water in the kitchen, that said, there is the magic hour. Between 2 AM and 3 AM, like clockwork, Bill will wake up and usually just roll around in the crib putting his feet in his mouth. It’s beautiful, I can’t describe it, it’s the closest thing to perfection I’ve ever experienced. Apparently, Thomas was a sucker for it too. Instead of splattering the baby, he blew his brains all over the place and left Bill in the room for the police to find. Lydia’s family had a big fall out a long time ago and Cynthia’s family was dead. I thought the Godfather thing was just a title. I’ve relocated for the time being, so that’s why I’ve got Bill,” for the first time in their meeting George is smiling, the cold fogs the breath coming out of his mouth into little smoky wisps.
“Will you walk me home?” June stood up wiping her face, she breathed out in a steady stream of white. George looks down and squints, the thought he could have kept that to himself. He bends down to retrieve the groceries from the cement and stands up to meet a red cheeked smiling June face to face. She looks at him a long time before leaning in and putting her lips on his. Neither one of them blink. She leans back the wind brushing her hair away from her face. June smiles at George and wipes her face again, laughing.
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