Forever Bound

Make Up My Mind

After work, I go to the grocery store to pick up some things pregnancy women should eat.

My cart is full, because everything on the list sounds so damn good. I pass the baby department. I smile at the little clothes, and I look for the new born section.

A lady is there with a car seat in her basket. She a set of clothes and with tired eyes, she scooted it out before tossing it in the basket.

I made the bold decision to approach her. "Excuse me, may I ask for some of your advice?"

She looked at me and forced a smile. "Of course."

"How old is your baby?" I ask her.

She smiles at the car seat that is covered with a pink blanket. "Tomorrow she will officially be one week old."

"Congratulations," I tell her, feeding off of her excitement.

"Awe, thank you."

"I wanted to ask," my hands began to fiddle with one another, "what is it like?"

She raises her brows. "Are you expecting? Planning?"

"Expecting, and I- this wasn't a planned pregnancy," I open up to her, only because she is a stranger. "I can feel myself getting attached. And my mother, well she was just terrible to me and my siblings. And this baby just-" I place my hands in my stomach and loot down at it "-makes me want to show her so much better."

Her chin tilts down at me, amusement bounces in her baggy eyes. "We'll I think it's been decided," she laughs, "you see that's what children do. They bring this...instinct...all these thoughts and determination. All these things we want to do for our baby, we just want to be better." She sighed.

"There is no right way to parent, but it's a wrong way. You'll be fine. Just trust your gut."

I smiled. "Is it bad that it took a stranger to finally make up my mind."

"No...you made up you mind a while ago," she shook her head, "I could tell. You are going to be fine. Congratulations darling."

She left me in my thoughts with a kind smile. I guess I'm having this baby.

I left the store with so much more confidence then when I came in. I couldn't stop smiling. Nothing mattered, but I wanted this baby. And I'm going to love it more than I do now.

I wanted to call my family and break the news that I was going to have a baby. But I said I would do this after I told the father.

I still called Remi though but she doesn't answer.

Tomorrow we go to confront the other half that is responsible for this mess. I don't know how to handle this. The environment doesn't scream 'Im pregnant', and we don't know each other.

And I think about what Remi said. It is important that we get to know each other because if we act like strangers in front of our kid than it's going to be confused. The sun is setting and I drive to my dad's house.

The yard is out of order with the paint peeling and the flowers are on their last string. I use my own key to unlock the door.

"Dad?" I call for him.

"In the garage!" His voice is muffled.

I go up the hall and turn to the left to go into the garage. He is reaching for something, standing on a latter.

"Dad, what are you doing?" I hurry and hold it stable so he won't fall.

He looks down and despite the smile on his face, he looks ruff. His sharp, pepper grey stubble is growing around his chin and his eyes are dull. He's in his early fifties and still has a head full of hair, it would look better if it was combed. "I went to check the mail, but then it hit me how bad that paint is," he picks up a bucket of paint.

"Dad, do you know how old that is? That can't be good anymore," I take it from him when he shows me the can.

"What do you mean?" He frowns.

"I was twelve when we painted the house, dad," I snicker, he laughs along with me.

"You were going to paint today?" I ask

He scratches the back of his head. "I was going to try."

"I can take you to match the paint, the paint shop doesn't close till late. And if you want to pick up anything else we go go in the hardware section," I offer. "It actually does seem fun to find to find some projects around around the house. Very therapeutic."

"See, I knew someone would get it," he throws his hands up, "your sill brothers were saying the house was no good, but I know she has some potential." Dad pats the wall as we go back inside.

"I'm sorry I couldn't make it to the dinner, Sonny. I was looking forward to it," he says.

He face saddens and he looks away from me. "It's cool, I wasn't feeling well that night either. I actually threw up everything I ate, so me and you both had no pasta once you think about it."

"I was thinking of making a bread pudding, do you want me to make some for you, too?" I also throw in.

He smiles at that, but I think it's because I'm not mad at him after all. "You know I love your bread pudding."

"Good," I mutter, "cause I've been craving one."

Me and my dad go to outside and take a piece of the siding. Then I get a look at it, I see there is more that needs to be done then just paint.

"Dad, look how bad this is. You can't paint over this, the wood is going bad," I press my fingers into the soft wood.

"You might as well get the sidings done then paint," I step back and look tay the house, "it looks like it will take one good storm..."

"Do we get someone to change it out? Or should we do it ourselves?" The setting sun shines into his eyes, making him squint.

I nudge him with my elbow. "You getting old or something, you use to do all this yourself."

He chuckles. "If I have help..."

"Then I'll help," I say like it's obvious," and we can text the boys and see if they can help on their off days. For now we can get the paint and the tools."

We get in the car and catch up on our week. I gather that my dad is having a good day today, and has been for the last few days.

I want to ask bluntly how many drinks he has had this week and how his meetings are going, but I don't. Instead, I let him enjoy his time out the house.

When we get to the store, we pick up the treated wood. For some reason on the side off the house is rotting but the front and back are fine. We also pick up some cork guns and nails.

Dad was always into construction. It was his happy place. So being here now, I see bits and pieces of the man he used to be.

"I like this color for the house," he picks up a stormy grey paint card, "and white for the trimming? I think it would be better than old baby blue."

"If that's what you want," I shrug.

The house, in a way, represents all our family has been through. It's just as beat down and broken as we were. But we are  healing now, and the house should show that.

Dad ends up buying the new paint instead of the old color. Everything we got went into the garage. Dad says he will get started tearing down the rotten wood, I tell him I can come back next weekend, this weekend I'll be pretty occupied.

I shoot a picture of all the supplies to the group chat me and my brothers are in and ask them if they are down to help.

"You better get home before it gets late, young lady," sad says putting the garage down.

I realize how dark it had gotten. "Yeah, I guess so. Let me know when you start, I'll pass back to see how you're doing this week, but I'll be here to help Friday."

"Will do, text me when you get home," he hugs me and kisses my head.

"Okay, good night."