10
Jerry rubbed a hand over his mouth. "She really told you I'm your uncle?"
Dawn couldn't tell if he was amused or totally pissed. She'd watched him carefully while she told him and his face had been like stone throughout the whole thing.
"Yeah, but she's lying, right? I mean, it's totally not possible, right?"
He slashed the air with a hand. "It's completely impossible! Where does she get these ideas? Has she always been a loon?"
Normally Dawn would so get on the case of anyone who called her mom a name. But this was different. This time Mom was acting loony.
"No, but you and me… it's like unhinged her."
He looked totally upset as he began stalking back and forth across the room.
"Unhinged, hell! She's lost it! First she says I killed one guy and kidnapped somebody else. Now—" He stopped short and stared at her. "Did she have any kind of proof—bogus proof?"
Dawn shook her head. "No. She said she couldn't prove it."
"Well, well, well. If nothing else, your momma is consistent. No proof I killed someone, and no proof I'm her brother."
"Half brother."
His face hardened as he waved a hand. "Makes no difference. This has gotta stop."
He stepped to the closet and pulled out his jacket. Dawn grabbed his arm.
"Where are you going?"
"To see your momma."
"Bad idea, Jerry—totally bad. If you've got to talk to her, call her on the phone."
"I do better in person, darlin. You know that. I want some face time with her to warn her about spreadin any more of her shit."
"Don't do anything…"
He looked at her. "What? Stupid? Like making a scene and throwin things?" He shook his head. "I'm just gonna let her know that if she keeps this up, she'll be hearin from my lawyer."
He kissed her, hugged her, then he was on his way. She watched him stride out the front door, slamming it behind him.
What a mess. What a mad, godawful mess.
She felt a sob building as she thought about how totally she'd screwed up. Pregnant! She did so not want to be pregnant. She didn't want to be a mother—not yet, at least. The idea terrified her. Maybe later on she'd be ready to be totally responsible for another person, but now? No way. She could barely take care of herself. She had some living to do before motherhood.
But Jerry… Jerry was 50 into this baby.
She thought about how he'd danced around this morning when the other tests she'd bought all came out positive. Kept saying how it was a miracle and how the stars had aligned to make this happen and how it was meant to be and talking crazy about destiny and the baby ruling the world. And always "he" when he referred to it. Why not "she"?
He quieted down later, but he'd been just as happy, dragging her out to Work to celebrate, wandering around the place grinning like a drunk.
Like a drunk… Jerry all of a sudden wanted her to be a teetotaler. Not even a beer. Well, fuck that bullshit.
She went to the kitchen and pulled a can of Bud from the refrigerator. But as she reached for the tab she stopped.
Could alcohol really hurt a baby? She'd heard that, but was it true? Maybe she'd better investigate first. She didn't know what she was going to do about the baby yet, but if she decided to keep him—she was sounding like Jerry now—she didn't want to cause any birth defects.
She returned the beer to the fridge.
Shit. This pregnancy thing totally sucked.