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party up to the font, repeat
a flurry of meaningless
words. Resplendent in
his white tuxedo, Hunter
smiles up at me as Pastor
Keith pours water over
his head, makes him a child
of God. I was baptized once
too, and I silently ask, “So,
Big Guy, am I still Your child?”
Party Time
Well, actually, it’s time
for the postbaptism reception.
I decide I ought to ride home with
Mom, who decides not to get into a
big discussion now, not with Leigh and
Heather in the car and a regular parade of
friends and family trailing us home. We’ll
talk about this later, she promises, and I
think I’m glad I’ve turned eighteen so I
can hit the streets if I must. [Uh-huh,
right. With a baby, three hundred
dollars, and no place to crash.]
Okay, that’s not the best
idea either. Oh, well.
Why worry about
it now? Just make
it through the
afternoon. Get
some sleep tonight.
