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@singledaddygrant-blog
"I’m thinking… green and blue. Unless you’d rather a different color."
He lead her outside, shutting the door to his mother's house behind him and walking to the car, "I guess that could work. I always thought those were more 'boy' colors though, but still--trusting your judgement over mine."
"Yeah, I can do that."
"Then that's all I need you for. Left to my own devices, Izzy would have a black and white bedroom like mine because those are the only colors I can coordinate."
"No. Because there’s no way in hell I’m giving you my credit card."
"I don't need your credit card, I need your female ability to properly decorate a little girl's nursery."
"Well, she did give you her credit card. The least you can do is take the woman’s advice."
"Does that mean I have to take all of your advice when you start dictating what pattern of blankets and bedsheets I should be buying for Isabelle?"
Charlie held up her index finger to Grant, saying that she’d come in one second, before hugging his mom and then following him out the door. She linked their arms together like she always did until they got to the car, and then she climbed into the passenger seat, putting her feet up on the dashboard and buckling her seatbelt. “So, where to?”
"I was opting for Walmart, but Mom insisted on Babies R Us and their expensive prices. So that's where we're headed."
"Well, yeah, you’re her kid."
Charlie took the list from Linda, looking over it. “This won’t be too bad.” she said to Grant. “Thanks so much, we both appreciate it. Don’t we, Grant?”
Grant took the list from his friend's hand and the credit card his mother handed to him. Where would all of these items go? How was he going to assemble a crib and a dresser by the end of the day. However thankful he was for the list, uncertaintly of parenthood crept up on him again, "Yeah, of course. Thanks a lot, mom." Careful not to squeeze Isabelle, Grant leaned down and hugged his mother, then stood upright and put the list in his back pocket, "We should get going now."
"She has too yelled at me, remember when I came over and we tried to sneak out of the house?" Charlie said as they entered the living room. "She was livid."
"That was more of a collective scolding. She was mad at both of us, but she was angry at me more often than you alone, I'd say."
They walked into the living room to find Linda cradling a cooing Isabelle and furiously writing up what looked to be a very long list, "I'll leave the diapers and bottles and things to you two, but the crib and the diaper pail and big ticket items just put on my card."
Charlie smiled. “I didn’t think she would. Come on, to the living room.” she said, linking her arm with Grant’s like she used to do when they were in high school and she was upset. “Your mom knows a lot more about babies then we do. She’ll be helpful.”
"Well she never yelled at you, you wouldn't think so." He said, walking with her towards the living room.
"Mrs. Russo - Linda, if I may - your son found out today that he unknowingly fathered a child, and the child’s mother left her in his care." Charlie started, trying to make Grant not sound like he had sex with a random stranger. "He isn’t quite sure who the mother is, but that doesn’t matter because I’m going to help him raise her… her name is Isabelle, and we need to run out and buy a few things for her, and we were hoping that you could take care of her until we get back."
While a thousand different snarky remarks and questions popped up in her head as Charlie explained the situation, she couldn't fix her lips to voice any of them them right away. Isabelle whined softly in her father's arms while he shushed her softly and focused his eyes on the top of her head. After a long, quiet, almost painful few moments, she stepped over to her son and gently stroked the baby's head as she whispered something in her son's ear. Grant nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth and Linda jumped back with a huge toothy grin, "I always thought if Grant ended up with a kid out of wedlock it'd be you as the mom, Charlie because who else would willingly hop into bed with him but you? But this works for me too. Give her here." Grant passed Isabelle over to her grandmother and the love was instantaneous, "Into the living room, c'mon. I'm putting together a list for you right now. And hello to you, adorable baby! Got your grandma's eyes, yes you do." And she was off down the hall and disappeared around the corner into the living room, seemingly unphased by the announcement. The shade of red in Grant's cheeks made him look a lot like the red wall clock that made Isabelle cry, "She didn't yell..."
Charlie stepped inside, waiting for Grant to do the same before she said anything… revealing. “Would you mind getting Mr. Russo for me? I think it would be better if we told you both this at the same time. It’s kind of a long story.” she explained, looking over to Grant, and then looking back to his mother.
Grant swallowed hard and stepped inside and set the car seat on the floor. With the door closed and the heat outside where Mrs. Russo felt it belonged, Isabelle continued her self-assigned task of diligently surveying her surroundings, "He's nappin'. Had a long work day yesterday, took today off and hasn't moved since 11 last night. I swear he's dead...you two didn't elope, did you? I told you you were going to wear my old dress at the wedding, Charlie." A bright red wall clock made a chiming noise as the time came to the top of the hour and Isabelle let out a small whimper of protest to the noise. Deciding she didn't like it at all, her whimper became a soft cry and Mrs. Russo jumped like a scared cat, notcing the baby for the first time "W-what? Oh my--what is that? What is going on?" Grant silently scooped Isabelle out of the carseat and held her against his shoulder, pressing his lips together tightly and still not wanting to speak.
"Hi Mrs. Russo." Charlie said, hugging the woman who had been her mother figure for so long. Her own mother had left her and her dad when Charlie was in the fifth grade, and her dad had remarried a vicious woman who cheated on him when Charlie left for college, thus resulting in a divorce. Needless to say, Charlie loved Mrs. Russo more than she could have thought she’d love someone else’s mother. "We’d like to tell you and your husband something, and ask you a favor…"
Mrs. Russo backed into the house and stepped aside to allow them inside, at which point Grant felt like shrinking back against the wall. All his life, Grant had known his mother to be understanding and relatively forgiving---unless he messed up severely, in which case her claws and fangs came out at an unfathomable speed. Sophomore year of high school, Grant had decided to be rebellious and ditch for the entire first semester. And even though the school notified her repeatedly, she refused to believe it until she caught Grant at the grocery store eating his weight in Cheetos without paying for them. His mother was almost banned from the grocery store from the spectacle she made in response. Needless to say, Grant was terrified, as 'baby out of wedlock' was probably worse an offense than skipping, "Anything. You don't even have to ask, just tell me. Come inside first, hot as hell out there."
"I helped her pick out the cake flavor." Charlie said, letting go of his waist and beginning the walk to the Russos’ front door. She held up her hand in a fist, ready to knock, and looked over to Grant. "Ready?" she asked quietly.
"No." he said simply, placing his hand on Isabelle's stomach. She gurgled and grabbed his finger, bringing a smile to his face as he waited. When Charlie finally knocked, he took an instinctive step back and held Isabelle's car seat behind a planter long enough to keep her out of sight. Grant's mother, clad in sweatpants and a large white t-shirt that clearly belonged to her husband, opened the door with a smile, "Hi, Charlie!" Mrs. Russo always sounded brighter and happier when Charlie was around, seeing her as her own daughter. She hugged her tight, then stepped forward and planted a kiss on her son's cheek, "Hi, baby." Grant forced a smile, "Hey, mom." Isabelle seemed cooperative with the 'keep the new baby hidden as long as possible' strategy as she was silent, and as a result, went unnoticed by her grandmother.
Charlie rubbed her best friend’s back, resting her shoulder on her head. “If anything, they’ll only be angry that I’m not the baby’s mom.” she said, trying to ease his mind a bit. His parents had always liked Charlie, although if she was being honest, she didn’t get why anyone liked her.
He laughed a little and nodded, "One assignment in middle school where we took care of a bag of flour, and mom's been assembling a wedding scrapbook ever since."
Grant let his friend go and reached into the car to pull out Isabelle's carseat. She'd dozed off in the car, but the bright sunlight and lawn mower running one house over startled her awake and she was looking around with wide eyes, apparently to shocked to cry. For now anyway.
Charlie sighed, getting out of the backseat and going up to the front of the car. “Get out of the car.” she demanded. Once Grant did as he was told, she wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him. She knew he needed the comfort. “We’ll tell them the truth. I’ll say it, if it makes you feel better.”
For a moment he was hesitant, but after sucking in a breath he climbed out of the car and was embraced by his best friend. Instinctively he wrapped his arms around her and placed his chin on her head, breathing slowly and steadily to calm his nerves, "I just assumed you would. Because my ability to come up with words in front of my father is non-existent."
"Can I stop cursing around her when her brain is developed enough to understand what we’re saying?" Charlie acquiesced, looking back to the baby. "That’s very true." she said with a laugh as they arrived at his parents’ house.
"She doesn't have to understand the meaning of the word to one day say it." They pulled up to his parents house and he let out a sigh as he sunk down in his seat, "I'm not ready for this. I know we came up with a story, but I don't know if I can keep to it."
"You know that I know how to pick a lock." Charlie said, laughing. "Okay, okay. Is Isabelle the naked mole rat?"
"This can all be avoided if you just refrain from cursing around my daughter." He responded, resigning to the fact that Charlie could and would break into his apartment if necessary. And to the fact that he had a daughter--that remind sent a tingle of discomfort down his spine and he breathed out, "She's bald and wrapped in enough pink blankets to look like one."
