To relax me, she rubbed some hand lotion on my face and hummed a hymn. “If you ask me,” she snickered, “the food you ate at your mom’s last night messed up your head. Maybe I should have made a nice pumpkin pie for you. It wouldn’t have hurt you none to pray before going to bed.” As difficult as it was to take dreams seriously as predictors of the future, I realized that fear of the unknown had consumed me. Both of us were breathing heavily. She placed the coffee cup on the dresser and picked up a copy of a tabloid magazine. My eye fell a headline article about babies born to unwed mothers.
Mindful that nothing would prevent Michelle from taking the money and subsequently filing a paternity suit, I asked Amber’s opinion on the matter. “Like I said before, Freddie, she’s more desperate tha
