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“I’m not getting a D,” I say calmly.
“You’re getting the D,” he says.
“He’s my professor, Bossy, nothing like that is happening.”
“You know, D for dick?” he says. “So if he’s giving you the —"
“I get the joke, Bastien,” I say, and toss back the rest of my coffee.Chapter NineteenCalebI only get about thirty miles from Norfolk before I realize that I’ll never make it all the way back to Marysburg without either taking something illegal or falling asleep at the wheel, so I pull off the interstate somewhere on the Northern Neck and find a Motel 6.
It’s fine. It’s clean. It’s a Motel 6. I toss my dirty clothes into a heap at the foot of the bed, splash some water on my face, and fall asleep within seconds.
I swear it’s five minutes later when I wake up to the relentless buzzing of my phone, rattling away on the wood veneer side table.
“Fuck,” I mutter to myself, reaching for it.
It’s my brother Seth, and it’s seven-thirty, not five minutes later. My mouth tastes like a swamp, but I answer it anyway.
“What?” I ask, still face-down on the scratchy pillow.
“He’s here,” Seth says.
“What?” I ask again, feeling like I’ve walked into the middle of a conversation. “Who’s where?”
“Charlie had the baby,” he says.
That gets me to sit up in the bed, even as I feel like my brain is water, slowly going down a whirlpool.
“I thought she wasn’t due for another week,” I say, blinking at blackout curtains, trying to gather my wits. “Is everything okay?”
“Everyone is fine, he’s just huge,” Seth says. “Nine pounds, thirteen ounces. Total chunker, he’s got the chubby wrists and everything. He’s actually really cute, Caleb, even though newborns are usually kind of funny looking.”
Seth is smitten.
“What’s his name?” I ask, standing.
Where are my clothes?
There are my clothes.
“Thomas William,” Seth says, and I stop, one leg halfway into my pants.
Of course. The moment he says it, I can’t believe that it hadn’t occurred to me that that would be his name, that the first boy born to one of us would be named after our father.
“Did you know?” I ask, sitting back on the bed.
“Not officially,” Seth says, slowly. “I had a feeling, though. Daniel wouldn’t confirm or deny.”
I wonder, fleetingly, whether I should tell them the truth, a thing I’ve wondered so many times that the thought is a worn pathway in my mind, smooth like a worry stone.
Then I put it away, back into the same drawer where it’s been for years. Not every ugly truth needs to be brought out and aired, and that’s something I decided a long time ago.
“Thomas,” I say, trying out the name in my life. “I like it.”
“Me too,” says Seth. “You coming?”
“Of course,” I tell him, pushing my foot the rest of the way through my pant leg as I hold my phone between my chin and shoulder. “Are they still in the hospital?”
“Yup. Second floor, maternity ward. Text Mom or me first, though, in case they’re napping. Charlie might go full mama bear if you wake him up,” he says.
“Will do,” I agree, grabbing my shirt from the floor. “I’ll be there in… five hours.”
There’s a brief silence on the other end of the line.
“Five hours?” Seth asks.* * *It’s close to three in the afternoon when I finally walk into Sprucevale Memorial Hospital, almost six and a half hours after I talked to Seth. Sprucevale is further from the interstate than Marysburg, then there was an accident so I got off the interstate anyway, and by 1 p.m. I thought I might starve so I stopped and grabbed a sandwich.
I text my mom and Seth from the waiting room, then stand there for a moment. I’m the only person in there. Apparently late September isn’t a popular time to be born in Sprucevale.
“You got here just in time, they’re about to —"
Levi comes in, then stops short.
“What happened?” he asks, giving me a good, long, head-to-toe look.
Oh, shit. I put one hand over my chest, like it can hide the black eyeliner stains that Thalia left there last night.
“It’s a long story,” I tell my oldest brother.
“Is the long story also why it took you six hours to get here?” he asks, both eyebrows raised so high they’re practically in his hairline.
“I’ll tell you later.”
“Is everything all right?” he asks, coming across the room, lowering his voice.
“Fine,” I say, pushing my sleeves up, like that’ll help. “I’ll tell you later, promise.”
Levi just nods.
Then he starts unbuttoning his plaid shirt, revealing a white undershirt beneath it.
“Uh… ?” I say.
“Take your shirt off and give it to me,” he says, pulling his shirt over his shoulders. “Then put this on. You stand a zero percent chance of being allowed to hold Thomas if you come in wearing that, though we’re going to have to risk the pants as I’m afraid those are personal.”
