Page 29 of Judge
“A boy and a girl. Jackson and Annie-Bella.”
Mom and Dad freeze, confused looks on their faces. “That’s an, ah, interesting choice of names,” Mom says, suspiciously.
“Yeah, ain’t they just?” Sniper mumbles and I can’t believe that even my quiet brother wants to get a dig in.
“Um yeah, so the boy, Jax, Jackson, is named after me, and Annie-Bella is named after her grandmothers.”
The silence is deafening until it’s broken when the cookie Dad is dunking slips into his glass of milk with a plop.
“Her grandmothers?” Mom squeaks, looking equal parts hopeful and terrified.
“Come on man, put them out of their misery so Chuck can show me his stored collection of steam trains,” Tav whines.
“I’m their father. Jackson and Annie-Bella are mine and Kaia’s twins.”
Mom blinks once, then twice before she launches out of her chair, aimed directly for my chest where she bounces off, slapping me and hopping from foot to foot, cackling.
“Oh my gosh! I’m a grandmother! Hear that, Chuck?” She spins to look at Dad, “We’re grandparents! When do we get to meet them? Is Kaia feeling OK? Is she in the hospital here? I didn’t even know you were back together!” She claps again, eyes shining bright, giddy with happiness.
My brothers are all sitting along the long side of the dining table, in a row, staring at us like we’re specimens. I bet if the fuckers had popcorn they’d be in heaven.
“Ah, we’re not back together, and Kaia isn’t in hospital.” I swallow thickly, knowing I have to rip the bandaid off. “The twins are fourteen.”
Mom freezes, her eyes narrowing. Dad is still sitting frozen in his chair, staring into his milk, his cookie making air bubbles on the surface.
“You and Kaia. Together. Fourteen years ago? Wait, is that why she left town?” She frowns at me. “What did you do, Leo Charles Jackson?”
I cringe at the use of my full name and the words die on my tongue.
“Oh, oh! Pick me! I know!” Rider waves his hand in the air, the giant shit.
“Yes, please Rider, tell me why I’m only now just finding out that I have fourteen-year-old grandchildren?”
He sucks in a deep breath, palms flat on the table, “When Kaia went to tell him that she was knocked up she found him getting oral from one Chelsea Masters,” he exhales.
“Don’t forget the jocks,” Tank unhelpfully adds.
“Oh yeah! One of the jocks called Kaia a name and instead of sticking up for her, Judge giggled. Giggled! Can you imagine?” Rider stares wide -eyed at Mom while my brothers heads ping pong between me and that fucking snitch Rider.
Mom turns very, very slowly back to me, almost bristling, and you know what? I deserve it. All her ire. “Chelsea Masters?” she says in a tone so low it makes my balls draw up. “That skank Chelsea Masters is the reason why I’m only now finding out that I’m a grandmother?”
“I think you’ll find it was Chelsea Masters and Judge’s hormones, ma’am,” Tav adds unhelpfully.
Mom stares at me for so long I start to get scared. She’s never quiet. Not like this.
“Show her the baby pictures man, that’ll help,” Sniper whispers.
I fumble with my phone, bringing up the picture of the twins in the hospital, little beanie hats on their heads. As soon as it comes up I shove it in Mom’s face and take a big step back. Her face crumples as she takes in the sweet faces on the screen. Her finger traces their hats, before she looks at me with tears in her eyes.
“I don’t care what you do, but you bring those babies and Kaia into this family, you hear me? If she has a husband, bring him too.”
“She doesn’t have a husband,” I mumble back.
“Good. It’ll make it easier for you to win her back. I never knew what happened all those years ago, but trust me Leo, you two were meant for each other.”
My chest hurts and I know it’s because Mom hit the nail on the head. I never knew I was missing anything in my life until Kaia walked back into it, full of piss and vinegar. Or what the brothers think is piss and vinegar. I know better. She isn’t some ball buster, she’s a little woman who does it to protect herself. Well, now she has me to do that for her, just like when we were kids.
I clear my throat, looking at Dad. He’s a thinker like me, and he’s been suspiciously quiet. “Dad, you got anything to add?”
