Infinite

Ronnie and I were home with Arch, eating lunch and playing around when Lyla Ains showed up at the house. Arch and Ronnie were lost in loud conversation, playing small jokes on one another, so I got up to answer it. I opened the door and the woman stood on the front steps, offering me the best smile she could muster up.

“Atticus, hey, how have you guys been?” she asked, coming in when I motioned for her to do so.

“Good, we’re good,” I answered, closing the door behind her, “What brings you over?”

She pressed her lips together and glanced into the kitchen even though she was at the wrong angle to see anything. “Is Arch here?” she asked, knowing that he and I never went far from each other.

“He’s in the kitchen with Ronnie,” I replied. I pressed my lips together to keep from looking guilty when she shot me a look. The last she heard, Ronnie and I weren’t together, so I knew that having him here was surprising.

“He’s home from tour? I didn’t think he was coming back until the end of the summer.” She looked at me questioningly. “Are you guys..?”

“No,” I interjected quickly as she trailed off, “He’s just here to see Arch for a while. The guys are on a temporary break from touring. Come on in,” I said, turning around to head from the kitchen, “The boys are just making a mess.”

We walked into the kitchen and Arch turned around in his seat to smile at the woman. His face was covered in paint that were shaped into little designs and his fingers were a weird brown color from mixing too many shades together. “Ms. Lyla!” he shouted, giggling as he looked at his co-conspiritor, “What are you doing here?”

The social worker grinned back at the boy. “I just came to check in,” she answered, folding her arms across her body, “Looks like the two of you are having fun.”

The little boy grinned wider. “Ronnie gave me tattoos,” he said, turning the side of his face to her, “They’re just like his!” He pressed his hands down on the table as he moved to sit on his knees and the brown smeared across the table top.

Ronnie stood up from the table and headed to the sink to wash his hands and grab a rag. As he headed back to clean up the five year old, Lyla spoke, “I’m glad you’re doing well, Arch. You should run upstairs and wash your hands so I can talk to Atticus and Ronnie for a few minutes, okay? Then me and you can talk and you can tell me all about what you’ve been up to.”

Arch gave the woman a look. It was the same routine every time she can over and he knew it. He just didn’t like it. “Fine,” he muttered, moving out of his seat so Ronnie could wash the paint off the table.

“Don’t touch anything on your way to the bathroom!” I called after him, “Seriously, Arch, if I find any paint on the stairs or the walls, you’re gonna be the one cleaning it up!”

He turned around in the entryway of the kitchen and glared at me. He was hardly threatening with red and blue paint across his temple and forehead, but he didn’t seem to notice.

I gave him the same look. “I’m serious, I’ll take the tv away if there’s so much as a fingerprint.”

His expression softened and he turned back and hurried across the living room. We waited until we couldn’t hear him on the stairs to move to the table. “What’s this about?” I asked, sitting down in the seat next to Lyla, across from Ronnie.

The woman cleared her throat before she spoke. “Abigail refiled for visitation rights after the judge postponed them following her… outburst. It came back yesterday that she was denied.”

“That’s good news,” I said, wondering why her tone didn’t match her words.

“I thought so too,” she answered, “but Abigail was obviously upset and filed for full custody of Arch this morning. It’s drastic and unrealistic, but the court is going to have to follow through with her request and begin looking into her case.”

“I- what does that mean?” I asked, my heart beating in my chest, “She already tried that, didn’t she? They told her that she had to wait and take it slow. She wasn’t stable enough to have him, they can’t just ignore that now, can they?”

“Atticus, calm down,” Lyla demanded, “They’re going to reopen her case and go through all of her files. She’s basically getting another chance. I don’t think that they’ll deny her custody again. The goal of the foster system is to temporarily look out for kids until the parents are reformed and capable. I’ve told you before that it’s not long term. They’re going to hold Abigail to the lowest standards they’re allowed to.”

“But that’s not fair,” I rebutted, pushing my fingers into my hair as I panicked, “That’s not fair to Arch. He should be the one considered, not Abigail.”

“Atticus, you asked me if it would be possible for you to adopt Arch,” Lyla spoke, bring the conversation to a different point, “You said that you wanted to, but we haven’t moved on it yet. If that’s still something you intend to do, now is the time to move forward.”

“Does Atticus even have a chance?” Ronnie asked, speaking for the first time since Lyla walked through the front door, “I mean, don’t these things usually go to the biological parents? Especially now that she’s already filed.”

“Usually yes,” Lyla answered honestly, “Usually strangers don’t have any right to request custody of an unrelated child, but I believe that there are circumstances in Arch’s case that give Atticus standing. Because she’s taken care of him and looked out for him for almost three years now, she has standing to file for custody against his biological mother.”

Lyla explained to us that it was only because I assumed a motherly roll to Arch that I had a right, or ‘standing’, to try to adopt him against the wishes of his biological family. It was because I was the one who took him to school, and bought his clothes, and made sure that he was eating and sleeping and brushing his teeth.

She explained to us that Abigail had standing because she was his mother. So that made us even in that regard. But then it came down to ‘the best interest of the child’ where they could also claim that being with his biological family was in his best interest, simply because they were biological. She said that we would have to prove harder that she was unfit to raise him and we would have to make them overlook the ‘Superior Rights Doctrine’, which states that the rights of a parent are in general, superior to the rights of a non-parent.

We had to file now if I had any hope of adopting Arch. We would have to file to postpone dates set up for Abigail. Now it wouldn’t be her fighting against her past to regain her son, it would be us and her past trying to keep her far away from him.

It was because of the suddenness and unstableness of Arch’s future that Ronnie and I decided not to tell anyone else about the baby. We didn’t say a word to Lyla Ains and we didn’t plan on it until after this was over. We weren’t sure what she had to tell the courts and I didn’t want them to use it against me in some way. I knew that having an accidental baby with an ex-boyfriend who spent half his adult and teenage life touring and the other half in jail wasn’t really a prime example of stability.

Even telling Ronnie’s father was put on the back burner. The singer wasn’t pleased with the decision, but it wasn’t his to make alone and I voted no. “We can tell everyone together,” I explained to him a few days later, “I promise you, we’ll make a celebration out of it, Ronnie.”

We had spent the last three days practically glued to our phones and emails as we waited for news about Abigail and told our lawyer everything he needed to know about our case. It was hectic and time consuming and even Arch had been affected, despite our best efforts to keep the harsher details from him.

Ronnie stood in the doorway of the bathroom, watching me straighten my hair, and slumped his shoulders. “I just don’t want it to seem like something that just happened,” he said, even though that was exactly what it was, “I don’t want people to think that it’s unimportant. We’re having a baby, not buying a new car.”

I met his eyes in the mirror and gave him a look that suggested he stop being so dramatic. “We’re going to tell everyone soon,” I promised, “but we have to put certain things first right now. We have time to work this out, Arch doesn’t have that. I don’t want to jeopardize anything.”

Ronnie glanced behind him and down into the living below us. Arch was laying on the couch on his stomach, lost to the world. He was fully dressed and ready to go to Nico’s fourth birthday party, but practically asleep.

“How’s he look?” I asked, feeling terrible because he’d spent the whole night battling a fever that didn’t break until early morning.

Ronnie grimaced in response. “Sick,” he answered, “but holding onto what little excitement he can manage.” The singer leaned back against the doorframe again. “Are we going to tell him before everyone else?”

“Of course we are,” I answered, smiling at the man, “Arch is going to be a big brother. I wouldn’t take that away from him. We just need to keep it to ourselves until we know there’s no one he can blurt it out to.”

Ronnie smiled and turned back to look at the kid. “Are you sure he’s really up for this?” he asked, sounding skeptical that Arch could even make it off the couch.

“I know I should leave him in bed, but he really wants to go and he’s been fever free all day,” I said, “All I have to do is keep him away from all the other kids, and we should be fine.”

“That doesn’t sound impossible at all,” Ronnie retorted and backed out of the bathroom.

I grinned and slid past him. “Good, that’s why I’m assigning the job to you.” Before he could say anything I hurried down the stairs and grabbed my heels from where Arch had dumped them by the couch. “Arch, sweetheart,” I cooed as I slipped my feet into them and then turned to rub his back, “Arch, it’s time to go.”

He made a groaning noise and rolled over. He looked less sick than he had the last couple of days, but still tired and I smiled at him sweetly. “We don’t have to go, baby,” I allotted, “We can go right back upstairs and watch movies and order Chinese food for dinner.”

Arch sat up as fast as he could manage and shook his head. “I’m fine,” he said, putting on a smile, “Just tired.”

“That’s why Atticus has volunteered to carry you around all day,” Ronnie said as he came down the stairs behind us, “She promised not to let you down for anything. Even if you feel like you’re going to throw up again, she’ll be right there with you, Buddy.”

Arch glared at Ronnie. “I haven’t thrown up in two days,” he informed him, not thankful for the reminder. He crossed his arms over his chest and turned his eyes from the singer. “I’m better.” He got up from the couch and marched over to his shoes.

“Good, I’m glad, because nobody is having fun when you’re not having fun,” Ronnie answered, managing to mess with the kid even when he was barely over being sick.

I smacked the singer in the stomach as I walked past him. “We’re going to take Ronnie’s car, Arch, feel free to throw up back there if you need to, baby. No one will hold it against you.”

Arch was annoyed enough with us that he didn’t say anything else. Instead he got his shoes on and the three of us headed to my father’s like a little family. We weren’t typical or even any classified version of atypical, but somehow we managed to work. Ronnie was going to be the father of my child, Arch was going to be my child. We were makeshift, that’s for sure, but we were also making it work.

Ronnie blared his own music on the way to my father’s and Arch screamed along the best that he could. He was pretending to be Ronnie, trying to match the uniqueness of the musician’s voice. They were laughing at each other and having fun like they always managed to do. And when we pulled up along the street, there were countless balloons and cars lining the side of the road. Not only were there purple birthday decorations, but Fourth of July banners lined the houses and remnants of noon barbecues were evident. Nico’s birthday shared the same date as the holiday and my father’s favorite thing was lighting off too many fireworks in our backyard. Everyone in the neighborhood celebrated early and than made their way over to my parents’ house when it got dark. It was tradition.

My eyes only lingered on Chance’s house for a moment, before the boys pulled me back to the present. Arch yelled excitedly as he jumped out of the backseat and into Ronnie’s arms, and I hurried to get out and catch up with them before they left me there.

“Arch, do you want to carry Nic’s present?” I asked, following the two of them up the drive.

Arch slithered out of Ronnie’s grasp and ran back to me. It was large box, but not so big that he was toppling over. He walked between us and I kept my hand on his shoulder as we headed around to the back of the house, following the signs.

“Atticus.”

I looked down at the boy. “Yeah?”

“Am I going to get a party like this when it’s my birthday?” he asked, eyes taking in all the people and the balloons and the mountain of presents that emerged when we made it around the house.

I grinned and lifted him up. “Of course you are, Sweetheart.”

Arch grinned. “Is my party next?”

Ronnie spoke before I could. “Atti is next,” he answered, eyes darting to mine as we remembered our last birthday together, “Hers is just a few days from now.”

Arch looked offended that I hadn’t told him sooner and he twisted to look at me. “It’s your birthday too?” he asked, eyes wide, “I didn’t get you a present yet.”

“We’ll work something out,” Ronnie answered, keeping his eyes from mine as I looked at him warily. He grinned crookedly and then looked up as my family found us.

“Atticus, Arch, you’re here!” Frida yelled as she came over in her bathing suit, a towel wrapped around her shoulders. She grinned when she saw Ronnie. “I didn’t know you were coming, superstar.”

“I thought Nico might want to see me for her birthday,” he answered, his usual cockiness making for a decent cover.

“I’m sure that’s exactly what she wants,” she retorted. She grinned though, because we all knew how attached Nico Moon was to the singer and then shrugged for us to follow her down to the rest of the family.

The yard was packed with people and even though it wasn’t quite night, it was getting darker. The tiki lamps burned and there were white lights mixed in with the other decorations. It was beautiful. My dad had tables set up along the edges of the pool and people congregated at them. Nico’s cake was surrounded by presents and Arch was astonished.

“This is crazy,” he whispered, cupping his little hand around my ear as he spoke into it. His eyes were wide and he was excited.

My dad came over quickly when he saw us. “Atti, you made it,” he said, wrapping his arms around me in greeting. He grinned at Arch too and even acknowledged Ronnie. He got distracted by someone else when he turned to take us over to their table, but we managed to find it on our own. Gina was sitting alone, all the other chairs deserted as her family submerged themselves in the party.

This was the first time that I’d seen Holland since right after she was born and even in just a few days she’d grown and become even more beautiful. I melted at the sight of her in Gina's arms. “Gina, she’s gorgeous,” I said, sitting down in the chair on her other side, “I can’t believe how amazing she is.”

“Me neither,” she answered, moving the baby’s hair with her fingers. She smiled at Frida as the girl sat down on her other side. “It seems like only a few months ago Nico was this age and you were all kids and now my little girl is four years old and you have another baby sister.”

Ronnie sat down beside me and I sat back so that he could get a look at the newest Gurewitz addition. He seemed stunned and I knew it was due to more than just the sight of my sister. “Ronnie, this is Holland,” I introduced, watching as he tenderly reached out and touched her little hand before pulling back and looking at me in a way that I hadn’t seen before.

I looked away from his gaze and pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, trying hard to stay composed. I was grateful when my step-mother pulled his attention from me.

“It’s good to see you again, Ronnie,” Gina said, smiling at him, “We didn’t know you were coming? Brett didn’t say anything about you and your band being done with the tour.”

“That’s because they’re not,” my dad interjected as he sat down on the end, next to Frida, “I had no idea that any of them were back in town, in fact. I’m curious to know why that is.” He stared across the table to Ronnie, who held himself together flawlessly.

“Atticus and I had some things to work out,” he answered congenially, “Family comes first.”

It was hard for my father to argue with that, but I could see that part of him wanted to. He had to be two people. He had to be Ronnie’s boss but also the father of his girlfriend. On one end he wanted Ronnie to be responsible and not skip out on tour whenever he wanted, but on the other hand, he would never advise Ronnie not to come home when I needed him.

“So does this mean that the two of you are back together?” Brett asked.

Ronnie was slightly taken aback by that one. “Sort of,” I replied before the singer could say anything else, “We’re working things out, trying not to put any pressure on it.”

Ronnie looked at me because he knew it wasn’t the real answer, even though he wanted it to be. It was the answer we had to give. There wasn’t another way to explain why he was back in my life, with my family. We weren’t ready to tell them the truth.

“I see,” Brett responded, and then luckily moved on. Tonight was celebration. It was about Nico and family and Independence Day, he was too caught up in being happy to care about anything else too much. He got up to go check on the food, Frida took Arch to change to go swimming and find Max, Kasey, and Nico, and Gina told us to get lost and enjoy ourselves.

Ronnie grinned. “Do you want to go swimming?” he asked, eyes darting mischievously at the pool full of people. When he saw my skepticism, he added, “I know you’ve still got bikinis in your bedroom. I’ve seen them.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine, let me go change.”

He got up too. “I’ll come with.”

“You’re wearing your shorts already,” I answered, putting a hand on his chest to stop him, “and I don’t need your help, so you can just keep your ass down here, Radke.”

He laughed and shrugged his shoulders. “Fine, whatever you say, but when you can’t get your top tied, don’t come apologizing to me.” He took a step back and pulled his shirt off over his head before training his dark eyes back on me, a smug smile on his face.

I pushed him away and turned back towards the house. The party was kept outside, but there were a couple of people going in and out to help my dad manage the food. I slid past someone as I headed to the stairs. The floor was slightly wet from people coming in and out to use the bathroom, but I managed to make it upstairs without slipping.

Just as I was about to open my bedroom door and walk through, the door near the end of the hall opened and a man stepped out. He was in trunks and barefoot without a single tattoo or noticeable scar on his body. He was tanned with dark hair half hidden under a hat and blue eyes that I’d grown attached to since we met. He looked up at the sound the door handle made when I let go of it, causing the latch to clank against the other piece, and he stopped walking.

“Chance,” I spoke first, turning towards him only slightly, “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

He cleared his throat but didn’t move any closer. “My parents made me come,” he answered, “They thought it would be rude if Spencer and I spent the night doing nothing at home when we were invited.” His eyes dropped to the floor before he looked back up at me, waiting.

“Chance, I-” The last time we had been together it came to an abrupt halt. It had only been a few days, but it felt like the entire universe had shifted between then and now. I hadn’t thought much about him the entire time we’d been apart, but looking at him now everything came rushing back. I dropped my gaze from him. “We should talk,” I said, tapping my toes against the floor to expose some energy. I met his gaze again.

“Do you got a minute?”