The Irish Affect

2

Before I knew it, two days had passed and I still couldn't find a job. No one wanted me to work for them, and my time at the hotel was almost up. The money I had was quickly dried up on lunch, dinner, diapers, and cigeretes. I couldn't ask for another day, and tomorrow is my last day, I was desprate to find another place to stay. I couldn't stay on the streets, not with my baby, not with little Ryan. I groaned in frustration and pulled at my styled hair. A loud knock interputted me.

"Zayn?" The voice of the kind faced ginger landy called threw the door.

I opened the door and smiled weakly at her.

"Can I come in?" She asked.

"Yeah, sure." I said, letting her in.

She smiled and walked in, plopping down on the bed.

"So, what are you going to do once these three days are over?" She asked.

"I don't know." I said honestly.

"Did you get a job?" She asked.

"No." I told her.

"An interview?" She asked.

"Not even. I wish. No one wants to hire a guy with a kid and no place to stay. I don't even have a car, I got here by bus." I said with a sigh.

"I... I can help you." She whispered.

"No, I can't let you pay for another day."

"That's not what I was thinking."

"What were you thinking?"

"I know a guy who runs a homeless shelter. I can pull some strings, get you and your son a cot and a place at breakfast, lunch, and dinner."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I've known the guy sense primary school, I can take you to the shelter if you want."

"That'd be awesome, but uh.... What if I do get a job? Will they let me stay there until I get a place to stay?"

"They aren't going to throw you out on the streets, Zayn."

"Well, will they let me?"

"Of course."

I let out a sigh of relief and than, I heard Ryan. He wasn't crying, it was more of a little moan or a plead. I got off my ass and jogged over to the cot, he was lying on his side and he was struggling to move. I smiled and picked him up and put him on his stomach.

"There, go back to sleep, baby boy." I said, rubbing his back.

It didn't take long for him to fall asleep.

"How old is he?" The lady asked.

"Six weeks." I said.

"Did you... Did you have him?" She breathed.

"Yeah." I whispered.

"How?" She asked.

"My dad... He... he's a doctor and I-I can have children. He got sperm from a sperm bank and... brought it home and forced me... he forcibly impregnanted me with it." I chocked.

"My God... I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault, uh...."

"Clara."

"It's not your fault, Clara."

"Your dad sounds like a sicko."

"He is. That's why I ran away."

"Is your son... like you?"

"You mean can he have babies like I can?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know yet, we found out with me when I hit puberty."

"How?"

"The same way you did."

"You got your period?!"

"Yeah, I did."

"How old were you?"

"Twelve. I thought I was dying."

"Jesus fucking Christ. I can't imagine how much of a shock the must have been."

"When my mom explained it to me... I thought I was a freak of nature or something. Because, boys aren't supposed to be able to have babies, but yet I could. Three years ago we learned that some other men could, but not many. Every month I went through what you go through, and I hated myself for it."

"Do you still? Hate yourself that is."

"I don't know."

"Do you still get your period?"

"Now that Ryan's born, I do."

"What was labor like?"

"Hell."

"Oh come on!"

"I'm being serious! I couldn't have any medication, the labor was 23 hours long, and he was a six pound baby!"

"Did you give birth naturally?"

"Yes, I had to."

"Ouch."

"That's an understatement."

"Well no shit!"

We laughed and than she left. The day went by fast and so did the next and soon it was time for me to go.

"Zayn!" I heard Clara scream.

I turned around, the baby bag in my hand and Ryan in my arms, trying to calm the screaming child.

"Zayn, let me show you the place." Clara said.

"Uh...Okay." I said over the screams of Ryan.

He's been constipated all day and he can't help it. It was awful, listening to him scream his heart out and cry his eyes out. I tried to sooth him every way I could, with milk, with toys, with warmth, but nothing could stop his pain and it hurt me deep inside to see him hurt so bad.

"Shh... It's okay, daddy's got you." I whispered, rocking him as I followed Clara.

I could spend the rest of my life with him in arms, and I'd be okay, because I know I have my little boy.