Casey tuned out as the topic shifted. He was seated next to Abilene, acutely aware of how close their legs were, and acutely aware of that awareness. He tried to blame his edginess on the stress of those looming DNA results, but some of this agitation had a distinctly pleasurable edge to it.
Ware came by that afternoon to see Abilene and the baby, and it went much like the first time, except they passed the hour in the den, not in privacy. Once he’d left and Casey had made sure Abilene was pleased with how the visit had gone, he shoved a sandwich in his face and headed out.
The sun disappeared behind the hills beside him as he drove toward the highway. Stop one this evening was the grocery store in the next town, and he hurried through the aisles with the cart. He imagined doing this with Mercy in the little seat someday. Would that be fun, or a total pain in the ass? Parenthood struck him as a muddy mix of both those things. Then he realized he’d better save such theorizing for an hour or two from now, once he knew if he had any business contemplating such a commitment. Too much to wrap his head around. Too much to hope for.
The sky was black by the time he got back to Fortuity, and he parked in front of his mom’s house and headed up the driveway with a bag of groceries under each arm.
No sign of Vince’s bike, but he passed Kim’s orange Datsun in the driveway then jogged up the steps to the side door, knocking before he barged in. “It’s just me,” he called. “I brought food.”
It was Nita who appeared from the den, not Kim. “Casey, this is a nice surprise.”
“Kim texted me a list this morning.” He set the bags on the counter and started unpacking them. “Christine offered to help Abilene so I could swing by.”
“And get a break from diaper duty, no doubt.” Nita grabbed the yogurt and cold cuts and took them to the fridge.
“I don’t mind that stuff.” Sure beat the heck out of straining at every little creak and crack in the old farmhouse, expecting imminent disaster. You’d have thought that crap would’ve ended with Ware now placated. “Where’s Vince?”
“Garage. Finishing up Abilene’s car, I think. Kim’s with him.”
“Cool. I need to take a phone call in a few minutes. Mind if I hole up in my old room?”
“Not at all. It’s still your house, too, you know.”
Maybe, Casey thought as he closed himself in his tiny childhood bedroom. But also not. It was still his single bed under the one window, still his faded Super Bowl XXXIII poster on the door. The walls were still painted bright blue, but he’d moved on. Kim had a load of her things in here now—random furniture and a bunch of photography equipment—and he welcomed the change. He had an uneasy relationship with his childhood. On the whole, it had been happy enough, he supposed, but he’d left it behind. And maybe it was the leaving it behind that he wasn’t entirely comfortable with. His dad had taken off when the stress of family life had become too much for him. Casey had taken off when the reality of his mother’s decline had become too disturbing to bear. And when he thought hard enough about that parallel, the shame burned, and deep.
He pulled out his phone. Four minutes to six. Four more minutes, and the question that had been haunting him for five years or more would finally be answered. One phone call, and he’d know with more certainty than any vision could offer what his future would look like. Funny how he’d been only too capable of ignoring this shit for all those years, but now that the truth was about to come out, four minutes felt like fucking forever—
Brrrzzzz. His cell vibrated; then the chime kicked in. It took him three full rings before he brought his shaking thumb down and accepted the call.
“Hello?”
“Am I speaking with Casey?” asked a cheerful female voice.
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“Casey, good evening. This is Carrie Albini, calling from LifeMap. Does this time still work for you?”
“Yeah. Lay it on me.”