Rush Klondike

No matter how hard I think on it, I still can\'t wrap my brain around my life, my freakishly strange, happy, happy life. If you\'d asked my year ago self, \"Rush, any chance you\'ll ever settle down in a relationship and raise a kid?\" he\'d have probably laughed in your face. If you\'d asked him, \"Hey Rush, any chance the your sweet, young thing would be a guy?\" he\'d have probably smashed in your face. Thing is, people change. You grow. Whether you want it to or not, the world affects you and, unless you hide your head in the sand (which leaves your ass out there an easy target), you have to open yourself up to new and freakishly strange possibilities. This, I learned the hard way over the last few months.

I\'d always been what I liked to call an independent. I didn\'t rely on anyone or anything but my little old brain and me. Oh, and the unbelievable gullibleness of Joe Average, that kinda sustained me, too. You know that bit about a fool\'s money? It is too true. The trick is to get to the sucker before some other guy so you can be the one he gives it up to. So okay, I ran cons, mostly the basics, you know, three card Monty, shell games, little peddling of merchandise obtained through unconventional means, that kind of thing. Nothing that hurt anybody much.

My problem was that I like the ponies. Or the dog park or cock fighting or Jackie Twoteeth who takes bets on anything and everything you could imagine and some you didn\'t want to, so I wasn\'t flush very often or for very long when I was. It was on one of those days, when I was less than rolling in the dough, that life handed me a sure thing disguised as a thousand to one long shot.

I was unsuccessfully trying to sleep off my last twenty bucks, which I had converted into scotch late last night after paying off the three large I\'d lost to Jackie Twoteeth because Tian Tian and Mei Xiang, the zoo\'s giant pandas, missed getting it on again. Like I said, he takes bets on everything.

Where was I? Right, too much scotch.

So, yeah, I was trying to sleep. I needed my beauty rest \'cause I was likely gonna have to go scam a few tourists for my rent money later. It was already three weeks late and I didn\'t really want to be looking for somewhere else to sleep that night. But, I wasn\'t sleeping then because somebody really close by but, unfortunately not in punching range, was knocking nonstop. The building was a pretty good one as far as noise was concerned, \'cause it was old and the walls were thick. It was something I looked for in an apartment for just this type of situation. Still, that morning, the walls weren\'t doing it.

I could just make out a muffled voice over the banging, \"Mr. Klondike, are you there, sir? Please, Mr. Klondike, are you there?\" That got my attention. Nobody called me Mr. Klondike unless I was in court. Everybody called me Rush. I rolled over and checked the clock- it was flashing 12 noon. The power must have gone out again, shitty wiring, shitty old building. On the strength of the sunlight leaking in around the shades, I guessed it was at least mid-morning.

The knocking stopped when I was still ten feet from the door, but I had built up some momentum, so I went on ahead and opened the door anyway. Halfway down the hall towards the elevator, a woman stopped and turned around to me.

\"Please tell me you\'re Mr. Noah Klondike,\" she asked, with an exasperated voice, as a tiny cherub face surrounded by a rumpled red halo peeked at me from around her skirt.

\"Uh, yeah, that\'s me. Do I know you?\" She did look a little familiar. She was my type, at least, small and freckled with perky breasts, even if they weren’t all that big.

\"Ah, no. You were acquainted with my cousin, I believe. Her name was Margaret James.\"

Little Red piped up, \"Mama!\"

\"Yes dear, Margaret was your mother.\" She bent down and picked the kid up. \"You were acquainted with Margaret, weren\'t you, Mr. Klondike?\" she asked again.

\"Oh, well . . . I, uh, you got a picture, maybe?\" I didn\'t really think I knew any Margaret, but not everybody I knew used their real names, take me for example.

\"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.\" She handed Little Cherry Blossom, who was Margaret\'s daughter, to me, dropped the duffle she had slung over her shoulder to the floor and began rummaging through it. The kid smelled good, like shampoo and pop tarts. It soothed my head, which was weird, but I was thankful for it anyways. She clung to me like a happy, little, pinkish monkey, her too tiny arms stronger than they looked. I almost didn\'t have to hold on to her, just support her little tush on my hip and wrap my arm around her so she didn\'t fall backwards.

\"Ah, here it is.\" She handed it to me. Margaret was really my type and the kid looked an awful lot like her.

\"Mama!\" Little Gingerbread Girl chirped again as she saw the photo. You know, Margaret kinda looked like Peggy. God, I hadn\'t seen Peg in years, at least three years, maybe four.

\"She go by Peg?\" I asked to make sure.

\"Oh, I\'m not certain. We were never close, she may have,\" she offered and it clicked that she kept talking about her cousin in the past tense. Shit, that sucked. Peg was great, the kind of girl you could fuck one day and then go to the Meadowlands with the next. They didn\'t come along every day. Even though I hadn\'t seen her in four years, I was thinking how I was gonna miss her. \"You did know her?\" Peg\'s cousin asked again.

\"Yeah, she was great. I\'m sorry for your loss. What happened?\"

\"Cancer. She didn\'t even have time to attempt chemotherapy. It was quite unexpected,\" she informed me, wearing one of those pained smiles people put on when they were trying to pretend they weren\'t talking about something harsh. \"So, her name is Nannette. All her things are in here,\" she patted the duffle, still open on the floor of the hallway. \"Here\'s your copy of the will. The executor, Mr. Desmond, will be contacting you Monday to sign formal papers. Good luck, Mr. Klondike.\" She turned and walked towards the elevator. Oh shit!

\"Wait, wait, wait!\" I hustled after her, Strawberry Shortcake still on my hip, suddenly much heavier. \"Executor? Formal papers? Peggy left her daughter to me?\" I asked. That couldn\'t be right.

\"No, Mr. Klondike, Margaret left your daughter to you,\" she snapped and rang for the elevator.

\"Oh,\" I muttered and by the time I thought of how to ask how she knew I was the kid\'s father, she was disappearing behind the elevator doors. What had she said the kid\'s name was? \"Nannette?\"

\"Daddy,\" she answered. Shit, shit, shit! Peg, you did not do this to me.

***

I didn\'t have anything much to eat in the fridge and I was broke, so lunch was gonna be the first issue. Nannette was clingy and I wasn\'t so sure I ought to leave her alone for long, so I skipped a shower and peed and dressed as fast as I could so she only sat in the living room by herself for two, maybe three, minutes. When I came out, she was still on the same spot on the sofa where I\'d left her.

\"Uh, you use the toilet yet?\" Please, please, please!

\"Uh-huh,\" she nodded, walked into the bathroom I\'d just vacated and closed the door. Three minutes later, I heard her flush and the sink going, and going, and going, and going.

\"Hey, Nannette,\" I said through the door. \"You okay in there?\"

No answer.

\"Nannette? Sweetheart, you need any help?\" I tried again.

Just the Zen of the swishing tap water.

\"Nannette!\" I shouted this time. \"Can you hear me, baby?\" She opened the door as I yelled the last words.

\"Uh-huh,\" she said and skipped back to her spot on the sofa again. I hurried into the can and shut the tap off. There was water everywhere, but that was pretty minor, so I didn’t call her on it. I just mopped it up with a dirty towel and went back out to the other room.

\"So, you ready to go?\" I asked.

\"Uh-huh.\" Apparently, that was her favorite word.

Like I said before, I was broke and since I didn\'t figure it to be a good idea to set up three card Monty with Little Red standing next to me, we went to Kelly\'s Diner down the block \'cause I knew the owner and he let me run a tab when I was down, mostly \'cause I over tipped when I was up, so it evened out. We got a booth by the windows. I had pork roll on a kaiser and black coffee. She had one really large pancake, the size of the plate, with lots of syrup and a chocolate milk. I think she had more syrup running down her arms than ever got into her mouth. I only remember what we had to eat \'cause it was that kind of day that sticks in your memory. Suddenly finding out that you\'ve got a kid you never knew about will do that to you.

The more I looked at her, the more I could see my mother in her face, which was just freaky, to see my dead mother\'s eyes peeking out from that teeny face, my daughter\'s face. I didn\'t doubt that she was mine. Peg wasn\'t the kind of girl to do that, especially after she was already gone. She was too stand up to do that. What I didn’t get was why she never told me before. No, that\'s not true, I know why she didn\'t; she knew I wasn\'t fatherhood material, which I really wasn\'t. She was trying to save all of us grief. It was the smart thing to do. It still stung, though, that I was just meeting my kid now at, uh . . .

\"So, how old are you?\"

\"Fwee,\" she answered and held up four sticky fingers before correcting it by holding her pinky down with her other hand. \"How old you?\"

\"Me? Oh, I\'m old. Old, old, old. Moldy oldie. I\'m older than dirt. I\'m thirty.\" She giggled. Yow. How could I feel her giggle in my chest like it was happening inside me, inside my heart? That was not a good sign. See, I was figuring I really couldn\'t keep her, me not being fatherhood material and all. She was cute, just the thing some nice couple was dreaming of. I just had to hang on to her until Monday when that Desmond guy called and I would explain it to him. That was just two days. I just had to keep from getting attached for two days. I could do that. Just as long as she didn\'t giggle too often, I could do that.

***

Long story short: she giggled too often. She giggled her way through the rest of lunch. She giggled through the walk back to my building. She giggled a lot when I was washing all the syrup from her face and arms and hair. How did she get it on the back of her head? She also giggled me into an extension on paying my rent. My landlady, Mrs. Rovello, took one look at Nannette and just shushed me from even having to ask.

She did harp on me to get a job, though, now that I had someone important to provide for. Usually, someone gave me that kind of advice, I give them the I\'ll take it under consideration nod and smile, then let it out the other ear, but that time . . . I spent the evening (after another trip to Kelly\'s for diner and tucking Little Rose Bud into my bed- I\'d take the sofa), I spent the evening wracking my noggin for what kind of job I could get that was both legal and paid enough for the two of us. I didn\'t come up with much.

***

Mr. Desmond, who turned out to be named Desmond Desmond, some people just shouldn’t be parents, Mr. Desmond called first thing on Monday morning and I agreed to go in at ten to sign papers and whatever else needed doing so Nannette was mine and Peg\'s wishes were fulfilled. Mrs. Rovello agreed to stay with Nannette and they were having a rollicking tea party when I left them. Sitting in my respectable suit, squirming in Desmond Desmond\'s chair across the desk from Double D while he finished a phone call, I was still thinking about how to get a job and things seemed bleak on that front. How had I survived all this time and not gotten some saleable skills?

Desmond hung up and turned his attention to me, \"Mr. Klondike, nice to meet you.\" He half stood and we shook hands over the desk.

\"Same here.\"

\"I take it you\'ve read the copy of the will Ms. James-Fitzpatrick left with you?\" he asked.

\"Uh yeah, I tried, but, well I\'m sure I must have been reading it wrong. You better tell me what it all meant,\" I admitted, \'cause I\'d rather do that than try to fake through. I faked my way through a whole bunch of shit for cons, but I didn\'t want to mess this up. Keeping Nannette was too important and God, I was gonna be screwed if I didn\'t find a job. This guy wasn\'t gonna let me keep her with no job and my record and all. Not that I had that bad a record, there was some JD stuff (joy riding) and some penny ante stuff. Okay, fraud, but that was one I was actually innocent of, really, well mostly.

\"Basically there are two clauses that pertain to you. The first involves naming you as Nannette\'s biological father and legal guardian. I have a few papers for you to sign to make that official.\" He placed them in front of me and handed me a pen.

\"Sure thing.\" I signed four different places and set the pen down.

\"Good, good. The second is in regards to the trust. As the child\'s guardian, you will receive a monthly stipend from which to pay for household expenses for Nannette and yourself. The amount varies according to the principal, that is, it will likely go up over time as long as the trust\'s portfolio performs at expected levels. As executor, I am responsible to manage that portfolio. Once Nannette reaches the age of twenty-five or receives an advanced degree, whichever comes first, she will inherit the full amount of the trust, and you will receive a lump sum inheritance to ensure Nannette does not have to support you.\" As he talked, he pointed to different sections of legal gibberish on the will as if I could follow along. I tried.

\"You mean there\'s money? Peg had some money? Nannette\'s got money?\" I asked, astonished.

\"Yes,\" he said and grinned like he was the one getting an inheritance.

\"It\'s not much right, just enough for braces and state college, right?\" I was still gonna get a job. Kids need extras- roller skates and party dresses and class trips.

\"The full trust amount is in excess of two hundred million dollars.\" Oh shit!

\"Oh shit. Sorry, sorry, sorry. I had no idea Peg had any money, let alone that kind of money.\" Oh shit!

\"Thurgood James left a four billion dollar estate to be divided among his grandchildren. Margaret had just inherited her trust when she took ill.\" Thurgood James, the cupcake king? Now that was weird. I\'d slept with the cupcake king\'s granddaughter and didn\'t know it for years.

\"Wait, Nannette has other family?\"

\"Yes, of course. You\'ve met her cousin Marlene.\"

\"Didn\'t any of them want her?\" I couldn’t believe anyone could meet her and not want to keep her. They must all be heartless wretches.

\"Certainly, but you are her father and Margaret wanted you to care for her.\"

\"Her father.\" Yow! I was somebody\'s father. Fatherhood material, I was it, not just the last choice, like I\'d been thinking, the first choice, Peg\'s first choice to raise her daughter. How the hell had she had such faith in me?

The will did have some safeguards, like if they couldn\'t find me or I said I didn\'t want Nannette, Peg\'s brother Dennis would get her. It also said that the brother had veto power over any big changes I made in Nannette\'s life. I couldn\'t move her out of state or join a cult or let her get anything wacky pierced without his approval (like I\'d do any of those). He also had to dig the way I was raising her, where we lived, the people I let be around her, that kind of shit. So, maybe Peg didn\'t really have that much faith in me. Maybe she knew I would need a watchdog, someone to keep me honest.

***

So things were settling in good. The stipend was more money than I usually had even when I\'d had a really good stretch and I promised myself that I\'d never wager with Nannette\'s money, so it went really far. She had everything she needed. I got a two bedroom in my same building and paid the rent on time. I bought a car so I didn’t have to take her on the bus. They don\'t have car seats on the bus. We had some money in the bank, saving for an emergency or to travel or maybe, to buy a house. And, she still giggled a lot and it still echoed in my chest in that freaky way that made me want to hug her and never let go.

I started telling her cleaned up versions of the things I remembered doing with Peg; good stories about the friend she had been to me and I realized missed her more than I should have for a casual friend with benefits and maybe I\'d missed something really spectacular with Peg because I\'d wanted to be an independent. Now, I really wished I\'d figured that out a few years sooner. Maybe Peg, Nannette and I would have only had a few years to do the happy nuclear family thing, but a few years was better than nothing. I hadn\'t seen the potential in Peg and me and it sucked, I sucked. I just hoped that if life ever made me that offer again, I\'d grab hold and not let go, like I had been trying to do with Nannette.