My Sister’s Baby Shower
By Devin Baron
     I’m not having kids. Kids are absolutely no good. No way Jose. They’re a massive investment. Money-wise. Time-wise. But most importantly, dream-wise. And I’ve got big dreams.
     I’m going to Hollywood to make it big in music. Well, not Hollywood…but Atlanta. It’s close enough to Hollywood. Plus, I think all the rappers go to Atlanta these days anyways.
     I’ve got most things figured out. I’m leaving in about a week and a half or so. And my uncle’s got a place in Atlanta that I can hopefully stay at. I feel like once I’m there in the city, my followers will start popping off on my SoundCloud. 
     I’m all set. Except, I don’t really have any money to get there. It takes a lot of gas to get from Biddle, Arkansas to Atlanta, Georgia.
     Luckily for me, my sister’s having a baby! I guess Molly and Kyle decided they were done having dreams about 7 months ago. I kind of witnessed it in a way. It was on our family cruise, right after we had left the Bahamas. Our ship’s name was the “Miracle.” The Miracle’s exterior was hardy enough, but I’m not convinced they used much more than a layer of printing paper as insulation for those cabin walls.
     Well, here’s to miracles! Kyle said that if I show up to the baby shower today, he’d cover my trip to Atlanta. What a nice fella that guy is! It’s too bad he ended up with my sister. 
     Molly’s not like my mom. My mom’s a bitch. She always has been. 
     Molly is just boring. She’s an engineer and a scholar. She’s somehow smarter than all of us, and yet she has the no takes on anything. I don’t know what’s up with that.
     I wish my mom had less takes. 
     I try to go along with other people when they mention that Molly’s been grouchy in her pregnancy, but I can’t do it with Mom. She pretends like she’s not the same exact way every second of her life.
     Mom will be glad when I permanently leave the house and move out to Atlanta here in a few days. She’s always griping about me. “You’re 22 years old, Lake. It’s about time you do something with your life, don’t ya think?” Blah blah blah.
     The baby shower is just four hours away, and I am off to buy a gift. My first stop is the Woman’s Care Center. I’ve seen the big billboards my whole life. They’re usually dark and morbid looking. “Pregnant? Worried? Got AIDS?” Okay, maybe not that last one, but still. They give off the sense that only doomed individuals should visit. I agree that getting pregnant is dooming, but it seems like their marketing team could try to come off a little lighter if they want anybody to shop there for gifts. They should have gifts, right? Maternity is their whole thing.
     The building looked more inviting than the billboards when I arrived. Somewhat freshly painted. It’s a nice salt color with hints of carnation pink. The bushes haven’t been pruned in quite a while, but you can tell that the owners still care and are going to get to that soon. This was the place. I’d be in and out of here in no time, with 3 hours of free time to spend before the baby shower.
     The place was a mess! Were they hoarders or something? Every piece of medical equipment and every book or movie that a pregnant woman could ever crave was strung out wildly in bins and on racks. Would I have to leave behind a magazine or some type of artifact just for walking in?
     The three women at the front desk stared at me as if they’d never seen a man walk into this place before. Confusion, curiosity, animosity, all wrapped in one. 
     “I was wondering if y’all had any gifts, for like, baby showers?” I asked as I awkwardly approached the counter.
     “No. We do tests,” the lady on the right answered. “Would you wanna take an HIV test today, sir?”
     “Uhhh n-no. I was just hoping you had some free baby clothes or something,” I stammered.
     “We don’t give too much for free here.” She snickered, but in a serious way. “Unless you’re really in need. Are you having a child, sir?”
     “No no no, haha. I’m definitely not having a child. I don’t like kids.”
     “Sir, we are pro-life here.”
     “What, no, I just meant—”
      She cut me off and continued with her spiel. “We have many available options, as you can see.” She gestured towards a poster on the wall. There were shelves of junk hiding most of the words on the poster, but she didn’t seem to notice. “Adoption, parenting classes, and other programs. We’d love to have you and your girlfriend come to the Get to Know Us Seminar this Tuesday night.”
     “No, I’m not interested in a seminar.” I scoffed, getting frustrated. “I’m just looking for a cute gift for a baby shower. Or really anything that would work as a gift for a baby shower. Do you have anything like that?”
     “No sir, nothing like that. Look, I know you said you’re not having a baby, but I can give you this since you seem so unsure.” She handed me a tiny box that I optimistically thought could be promising. “You let me know how that works. It’s a new brand we’re trying out,” she said.
     “Oh, alright, great! Thank you!” I was indeed unsure---unsure of what had just happened. I didn’t even look down to read what it was that she had handed me. I trampled over some magazines, navigated around some bins, and hustled out to my car.
     Attempting to de-frazzle myself, I tried to squeeze out the tension that had already been built up in my shoulders. “Okay, all good.” I repeated that a few times to myself. “All good, all good, all good.” Then, I took a deep breath and proceeded to open the box.
     A pregnancy test! What the hell? No! I’m a guy! God, I hate that place. That was the worst decision ever. Okay, forget that place. I’m gonna go to the guy I know can help me. I haven’t seen him in a while, but I’m sure he’ll whip up something good.
     I didn’t see Omar when I first walked in. I was worried I wouldn’t recognize him. He must’ve had seventeen different hairstyles in high school; so it was likely he’d look a little different than I remembered him. Omar was an artist. He did drawings and paintings of all sorts. He looked like a rough-around-the-edges tattoo-artist type of guy, but once you talked to him, you quickly figured out that he was sort of a nerd about his craft.
     This was the first time I had visited him in his new shop. There were mostly paintings of rappers and basketball players hung up around the shop since that garnered up the most business, but as I walked towards the back corner of the store, nearer to the workspace, I noticed many paintings of classic artists that Omar most likely considered his idols. There were no baby-suited paintings on display of course, but I wasn’t worried. Omar always hooked me up with whatever I needed. 
     In high school, I had gotten a simple drawing done for Mother’s Day one time and for my girlfriend, Christine, another time. My mother was quite racist about it if you ask me. Once she figured out that it was Omar’s drawing, she took back her appreciation for it. “You need to stop hanging out with those thugs. You all think you’re gangsters and rappers, and that the world is against you. The world’s not against you Lake! You have a loving family, a family that cares about you Lake.” It was a bunch of bull shit. Omar wasn’t even close to being a thug. He just liked art, and he had a passion for depicting real life sometimes. Mom kept the drawing in the closet and refused to hang it up. Christine was more accepting of the drawing I gave her. Although, we did break up a few weeks after; so I’m not sure how successful that one was either.
     I enjoyed my walk toward the back of the store. I got whiffs of wet paint, cologne, and maybe chicken wings that someone had gotten delivered earlier that day. I liked how certain pieces were uniquely lit against the dark black walls.
     “Yo Lake!” the familiar voice cried out. I turned around to see Omar across from me. He had a fairly simple haircut, but he had dyed part of his hair to be yellow. He was wearing yellow crocs as well, popping in contrast with his smooth dark skin and plain dark shirt and pants. 
     “What’s up Omar”
     “What’s good man? How ya been?”
     “I’ve been pretty good”
     “Yeah! Whatcha needin today?”
     “Um, I need something for a baby. So yeah. I’m not sure really.”
     “A baby? Dang boi, the streets finally got ya, huh? Who’s the unlucky girl?”
     “Oh no. It’s for my sister. Her and her husband, Kyle, are having a baby shower today.”
     “Ahh gotcha. Well, I sure hope this Kyle’s not expecting this gift from you today. We about 3 days behind. We gotta lot of orders coming in.”
     “Oof, yeah I need it by today. There’s nothing you can do? An OG customer like myself.” I laughed as I referred to myself as one of his original customers. I’m sure that didn’t matter too much to him now that he had his own shop.
     He surprised me. “Well, for you, I’ll see what I can do. I’ll just charge you a small express fee.”
     “Awesome! I appreciate that dude. That’s amazing. What are your prices looking like these days? Paintings and drawings different or?”
     “It’s $75 base price for drawing, $150 base price for painting.”
     “Dang, now I remember why I’ve always gone with the drawing,” I said, stressfully running my hands through my hair. “Okay, I’ll do a drawing. Can you do a baby drawing?”
     “Uh, I don’t know man. What do you want? I mean I don’t know what baby drawings normally look like.”
     “Yeah I don’t know either. You the artist. Just make it look cute or something with a corny saying on there or something.”
     “Is it a boy or a girl?”
     Hmph. That seems like something I should know. Omar saw that I had no idea. 
     “Bro.” He gave me a sarcastic look.
     “Look man, here. Do some farm animals. Do a chicken. Uh, a chicken and an egg.”
     “A chicken and an egg?”
      “Yeah, and write ‘Which came first?” Like, ‘Which came first, the chicken or the egg?’” I was proud of myself. I don’t know where that idea came from in my head, but I liked it.
     “Uh-huh,” said Omar, in a confused voice. “I guess I can make that look good.”
     “Make it look cute.”
     “I’ll have it ready by 7?”
     “Whoa, whoa, 7? I need it done by like 4:45 at the latest.”
      “That’s not happening man. Look I’ll get it done as quickly as I can and I’ll call ya when it’s finished. You better have a plan-b though. For a gift I mean. I know you know all about the other type of plan-b. Have you been to the mall yet?”
     “No, I haven’t been to the mall.”
     “Dude. Go to the mall. Try to find something there. I’m sure there’s a place with baby clothes.”
     I was beginning to lose track of time. When I arrived at the mall, almost two and a half hours had passed. I had to find something here. I look forward to one day shopping at the mall in Atlanta. I hear they have an Apple store. What baby wouldn’t want an iPhone, you know? Our mall was not quite as popping.
     I went to look at the directory. I was worried I’d be pressured to look at it for just a second and then step aside for others to look. I overestimated the number of people that shopped at the mall in our town. I could’ve stood by the directory for 30 minutes if I had wanted to, and nobody would’ve bothered me one bit. I did stand there for about five or six. I scanned up and down trying desperately to spot something baby related. Nothing.
     I walked into a clothing store that I saw nearby, hoping they might have something. A man named Marcus greeted me.
     “Hey, how are you? Anything specific you’re looking for?”
     “Yeah actually, I was wondering if y’all had any baby clothing?”
     “Oh, ummm, baby clothing,” he repeated, as he looked around the store he worked at and was supposed to know the layout of. “You mean like bibs and stuff?”
     “Yeah sure, bibs or just anything really.”
     “Yeah, ahhh, we don’t have any bibs.”
      I wanted to say, “Well why did you say it then dimwit?” but I refrained.
      I was starting to get agitated as 5:00 drew closer and closer, still unsure if I was going to have anything in time to offer.
      “What do you have then?” I asked, rather bluntly. 
      “I think we got some baby shoes over in the shoe section if I’m not mistaken. Let’s go see.” I followed him to the shoe section. To say the shoe selection was ‘limited’ would be an understatement. Why in the world would they take this already narrow section of the store they had for shoes and choose to use some of it for baby shoes? Especially if they didn’t have any other baby clothes?
     Turns out, they only had one pair of baby shoes. They were Jordans. I bought them, but not before I almost threw something at Marcus. When I asked him the price, he danced around the question several times. He was more interested in being a dickhead I guess, saying “Dang man, I know a good place that has free condoms bro. You could’ve used one.“ I wanted to explain to the nimwit that it was very reasonable for a 22 year old to be having a baby, but then again. I hate kids. Instead I made the mistake of telling him it was for my sister’s baby shower, to which he said, “Oh shoot, maybe you could get your sister a big maternity bra from Victoria’s Secret.” Who talks about someone sister like that? Dickhead.
      There was no way Molly was going to like the shoes or even think about dressing her baby in them, but at least I had a gift. The tiny things were a whopping $59.99. I called Omar. I had to cancel the drawing order now. I couldn’t afford to spend over a hundred bucks on this dumb baby shower. 
     “This is The Art Farm, how can I help you?”
      “Hey Omar. Look man, I hope you’re not too far along on that drawing. I need to cancel that”
      “I was just about to call and tell you I was finished.”
     Dangit.
     “No canceling, homie,” he continued. “You gotta swing by and pick this baby up.”
     Dangit.
     I should’ve found another way to pay for the trip to Atlanta. This was a disaster. It looks like I may have to do that anyway. I don’t know if Kyle’s money will be enough after this afternoon of devil-child shopping.
     I walked into Omar’s shop. It was dark before, but it seemed much dimmer now; much more depressing. The paintings lost their pizazz. They all looked the same to me now. They all looked expensive. 
     “Here you go, my man. I even wrapped it for ya!” He handed me the gift-wrapped frame with a bow on it. “Thanks Omar. Sorry I tried to cancel on you. It’s just. Money’s tight you know?” 
     “That’s okay. You showed up. And you gonna have money to spare one day, my man, trust me. The day will come.” See? Omar’s a real one.
     As I walked out the door, I realized I made a mistake. “Ahhh, dangit! Did you put your signature on this anywhere?” I screamed across the shop. “Of course!” he yelled back.
     I should just give up. 
      On the way back home, I stopped at the Piggly Wiggly just to pick up a snack, hoping some sustenance would boost my mood back up again. 
      Something far away caught my eye as I walked in. Diapers! Wow! Who knew? Piggly Wiggly sells diapers. That’s perfect. Molly will appreciate those. The family won’t hate me. 
      I bolted across like a wide receiver on a slant route. Every worker and shopper in the whole place must’ve seen how goofy I looked in my desperation. But just as I reached for it, the impossible happened. An elderly man peeped out from around the aisle, grabbed the last box of diapers, and plopped them into his cart.
     “Ahhh!” I screamed. I couldn’t help myself. It startled the man. “What’s the matter?” he asked.
     “Nothing,” I answered. “It’s just that I needed those diapers you just took.”
     “Oh, well I’m sorry I got the last one. There’s no need to scream about it though.” He started to turn away and continue shopping.
     “Sir, I don’t think those are for you. I think they’re baby diapers.”
      “You calling me a baby?” he exclaimed.
     “No sir, no sir,” I said, trying to avoid causing a big scene.
     “Best not be! You’re the baby, sonny!”
     Where was all this animosity coming from? 
     I decided to walk to the register and just get what I went in for.
     I grabbed a Twix bar and pulled out my now very light wallet to pay for it.
     “Get the snickers.”
     “What?” I looked up to see cold, straight face demanding that I switch my candy bar. He was probably in his twenties too, but all life had already been sucked out of him. He was like a creepy robot of a person.
     “You heard me. Get the snickers.” This demanding approach to personal interaction that the cashier employed may have been the oddest I had experienced all day, but the baby shower was one hour away. I wasn’t about to argue with the guy.
     “Sure man.” I didn’t put the Twix back. I just grabbed the Snickers and added it on the counter. He checked me out without saying another word.
     I got to the baby shower right on time. I got a few comments, of course, about how they thought I wasn’t going to show up, and the typical banter about how on time was late and early was on time. I could’ve made it fifteen minutes early, but I spent those fifteen minutes hanging my baby Jordans on my rearview mirror. I had the idea when I was driving home. Molly wouldn’t like them, but I thought they looked cool; so I might as well keep them.
     Molly opened a few gifts before she got to mine. She smiled as she picked mine up. I imagine she thought it was a framing of her ultrasound picture or something like that. She looked too happy to know what was actually coming. She ripped through the perfectly wrapped paper. Her face turned confused. I looked around to see where Mom was. She was on the couch on my side of the room; so she couldn’t see it yet. I hoped maybe Molly would hide it and not show it to everyone. Instead, she just sat there with that confused look on her face. The amount of silence became uncomfortable. Someone close to her asked, “What is it?” She didn’t respond. After a few more seconds passed, I cracked under the anticipation. 
     “So, do you like it?”
     “Is this from you, Lake?”
     “Yep, it’s from me,” I said nervously.
     “I like it. It’s cute. I don’t really get it, but I like it.”
     I should’ve just taken that and run with it. She likes it. That’s a success. I should’ve said, ‘Cool, I’m glad you like it.’ Everyone was happy that she was happy. I should’ve left it alone.
     Instead, I pried. “What do you mean, you don’t get it?”
     She turned it around for us to see. I read it out loud.
     Which came first, the cow or the milk?
     “Haha!” I didn’t want to laugh, but I just couldn’t help myself. It was so goofy. Please tell me other people are laughing.
     I scanned the room. Some people were lightly snickering, at least in pity.
     Hesitantly, I turned towards my mom. She had already begun to speak. “I think it’s kinda dumb.”
      Laughing stopped. My heart filled with rage. My fists clenched. My face turned red. 
     “You know what? I think you look kinda dumb, Mom! Did you even hear Molly? She loves it! She thinks it’s cute! Why are you calling it dumb? Huh? Oh I bet you just got her the perfect gift, right? I bet you picked out the perfect, most relevant, most not dumb gift ever. What’d you get her, huh? Some baby diapers? I think you need some diapers for yourself, you old whiney bitch! I almost bought some diapers just for you today. Here! Here’s a snickers bar instead Mom! That’ll be the last thing I ever buy you. I’m gonna move to Atlanta, and I’m gonna have all the money in the world, and ain’t none of that gonna be spent on you besides buying you some fuckin diapers!” I took a couple of steps towards the door and then turned back to Molly. “Molly, I got one more thing for ya, I almost forgot.” I took the tiny box out of my pocket. “It’s a pregnancy test, you’re welcome. But don’t tell Mom if you’re pregnant. She’ll complain to everyone in this entire room, behind your back, that you’re soooo grouchy these past few months.” I turned back to my mother with wide fiery eyes. “Isn’t that right, Mom?” This time I walked all the way to the door before turning around to say one last thing.
     “Hey Kyle! I’ll be in touch!”
     Then, I slammed the door and prepared for my new adventure of independence. God, I hate kids.