He nods quickly, seemingly aware of the urgency to explain himself. “The whole thing was fast-tracked. He’ll be here in a couple of weeks.”
This must be a practical joke. Calvin is older than I am by several years. I’m speechless.
Calvin studies my face. “You don’t seem especially happy for me.”
“What were you expecting?” I say, my tone clipped.
“Sorry?”
“You’re a few years from early bird discounts and instead you’re planning playdates? The other parents will think you’re the boy’s grandfather. Won’t it be awfully embarrassing?”
His face pales. “You think I’m making a mistake?”
“That’s an understatement.” The harsh words are tumbling out of my mouth like an avalanche I can’t stop.
I don’t know why I’m so angry. It’s his life. If he wants to ruin it?—
Calvin steps back, averting his eyes. “I can give Chacha a better life.”
The child’s name is Chacha. This is real. I’m floored.
“Have you ever parented anyone?” I ask, sounding like a prosecutor.
“Sort of. Pedro.”
“Who is Pedro?” For all I know Calvin has an apartment filled with kids he never bothered telling me about.
“My late German Shepard.”
“You’re comparing dog ownership with parenting a human? Are you serious?”
Calvin sits back down, rubbing a hand through his hair. He looks distraught. “Listen, this is not how I wanted to tell you. I?—”
“Actually,” I interrupt. “Youdidn’ttell me. For days. You went to Africa without a word. Now you drop this on me out of the blue.” I’m on the verge of either crying or shouting.
Calvin’s face is pained. “I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”
“Well, you did. You are.”
I feel self-righteous, defensive. Threatened.
He gets to his feet, then slips past me, shaking his head as if realization is dawning on him. Maybe I’m getting through to him about this harebrained notion.
“I don’t know what to say.” He walks to the door, shoves his feet into his wet boots. “You have everything you need. Try to get some rest.Please. I’ll come back to pick you up at the end of the week.”
My anger morphs into fear. “Where are you going?” I squeak.
“Home, Caroline.”
With that, Calvin walks out the door. Moments later, I hear the rumbling of a motor and look outside. Calvin is on his snowmobile, racing away. From me.
Chapter Forty-One
Calvin
Aunt Pearl is fine.
Watching her stir three teaspoons of sugar into her tea, I can’t remember why I was worried. She’s been through many of these snowstorms. Maybe not as intense but multi-footers, nonetheless. She’s prepared, in better shape than people half her age. But I needed to make sure.