Their Mother’s Eyes, Part 1
The Past’s Echoes
By Jayed
EMAIL: Jayed
On the morning of April 12, 1982, both men received legal documents inviting them to the reading of a Will. The Will of the woman who had come between them, however briefly.
Each man was dismayed and distressed. Dismayed that the woman had reappeared in such a way into their lives and distressed over what the summons could mean to his partner. They didn’t need this kind of echo from the past. Neither believed there could be anything the woman could have left behind that he or his friend would want.
The lawyer’s office was all beige and off-white, soothing and serious at the same time. Although they had not been summoned to the funeral, each man had chosen to wear a sober gray suit, white shirt, and dark tie. The setting was not quite grim, but melancholy and anxious.
A cousin of the woman was there before them, and they all introduced themselves. The woman clearly recognized their names and was just as clearly startled by their presence. Each man wondered what she knew about their involvement with the deceased. Shortly thereafter a co-worker and another couple of cousins appeared. The final arrival, an elderly aunt, completed the group.
The lawyer appeared promptly on the heels of the aunt and introduced himself to those who didn’t know him, greeting one of the cousins and the aunt as old friends. He offered the group coffee, tea, and water, but no one took him up on it.
The reading of the Will began with the usual disclaimers about a sound mind and a soul-to-God and final wishes. Then, the three cousins were all left specific family momentos, including furniture and jewelry, and the youngest cousin also got the keys to the dead woman’s car. The co-worker received a small monetary award. When this portion of the reading was over, the lawyer politely saw the group out of the room and then he turned to the two men who had been waiting, quietly, with a faint air of unease.
"This next part’s a little trickier," the lawyer said, "I hope the surprise is going to be a good one. I urged my client to do this in another way, but this is what she wanted."
He reached into the small drawer on the top left side of his desk and withdrew two sets of photographs. Double-checking them carefully, he handed one stack to each of the two men.
The top photograph in each stack was the same. It showed two newborns, one a bald baby wrapped in blue and the other, an infant with an amazing shock of black hair, wrapped in pink. The second photographs were also the same and showed the two children at about age two. The boy now had wispy white blonde hair. The girl possessed a riot of black curls. They both had their mother’s shocking green eyes and a pair of even more shockingly familiar grins. The rest of the photographs in each stack—four apiece—were of only one child, the blond child in the stack being looked at by the blonde man and the darker girl in the dark man’s.
Each man was stunned into silence as he looked at his own stack and then his friend’s. Then, as one, they turned to the lawyer, questions clearly showing in their faces.
The lawyer spoke, "The girl is Kendall Rivkah Starsky. She’s called Dahlia. The boy is Davis Micah Hutchinson. He’s called Avi. They were born about a month premature in late January 1980. As you can clearly see in the pictures, they have their mother’s eyes, but their hair, their coloring, their mouths, and more, come from their fathers. I admit, gentlemen, that I didn’t realize that even fraternal twins could have different fathers, but here’s proof. Of course, you can ask for blood tests, that’s obviously your right, but it was their mother’s wish that you take them." He paused, looking at the two silent, shocked men.
"They’ve been staying with the co-worker who was with us earlier. She’s gone to get them. If you don’t want …"
That’s as far as he got. During his speech, the two men had been looking at each other. Their long friendship made the conversation between them clear and concise, if silent. As one they turned and interrupted, "We want them."
On that cue, the door to the office opened, and the two children appeared, each holding onto one of the hands of the young woman they’d met earlier. In the flesh, the question of fatherhood seemed even more obvious. Despite the influence of their mother, the children clearly favored their fathers in almost everything.
Moving slowly, instinctively, each man slid from his chair onto the floor, trying not to be intimidating to the two confused toddlers. How did one go about explaining a mother’s death or absence to a child so young? How did one begin the task of fatherhood in such inauspicious circumstances?
Some tears (and not just from the children) and some giggles (and not just from the children) filled the room for the next hour. Then, reluctantly, the two men let the young woman take the children out, and they began the paperwork that would eventually make it possible for them to take the children home. The fact that the birth certificates listed them as the fathers made this much easier. The situation wouldn’t call for adoptions or too much legal intervention. A schedule of visits for the next week was set-up to allow the children to get used to the two men and for the two to get used to them. The week would also allow them to make sure that they had adequate places set up for the children to come home to.
Thoughtfully, the young woman had taken the time to write up a list of each child’s likes and dislikes as far as food, and the lawyer had the names of the children’s doctor and daycare center. They had clothes and toys and toddler beds. And potty chairs. Taking the lists and the photographs, then shaking the lawyer’s hand, the two men exited the office and headed toward the car they’d driven together in.
"We need help," Starsky thought. "I wonder if Ma would come out." He almost laughed aloud. For a grandchild, or, more realistically, grandchildren? His mother would be here tomorrow. He spoke up, "Hutch? We should, you know, get a place together so that they can stay together. And I want to be called ‘Daddy.’ You can be ‘Papa’ or something."
"We need a lot of help," Hutch thought. "My mother wouldn’t come, but I bet we can talk Starsky’s Mom into it." He almost laughed aloud. For Starsky’s children or even for his? She’d be here tomorrow. "I can be ‘Papa,’" Hutch agreed. No child of his would call him ‘Father’ or ‘Sir,’ the only two acceptable terms for his own father when he was a boy.
Each man was lost in his thoughts for the rest of the day. Dismayed? Distressed? Not anymore. Distracted? Absolutely. Disconcerted? Just a bit. The Past was echoing all right, all the way into the Future.
END