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It wasn’t that Francesca Kinard was a bad mother, or a cruel mother, or an unloving mother; it was just that she was a young mother, fifteen years old, and unaware of how to raise a child – but really, she was a child herself, how could she know how to mother? Her own mother was cruel, though, and mean and bad. Luciana Kinard had taken one, dispassionate, glance at her fourteen-year-old daughter, crying and scared and pregnant, and had kicked the little girl out without a second thought. And maybe, just maybe, if her father had still been alive, he would have helped her. Francesca did not remember much about her father, just that he had been big and strong, and that he had loved her – at least she liked to hope he did. Thomas Kinard had died, young and reckless and too far from home, in a training exercise with the military. Francesca did not know the details, but she thought it had probably been a horrible death. Francesca had been three then and Luciana Kinard had been six months pregnant with a baby that had been born blue. Too small and too soon. Her little brother had never taken a breath. Francesca wondered if that was when her mother decided to hate her.
And so Francesca had run to Marco Esposito, the fifteen-year-old boy who had gotten her pregnant, also a child, also too young, and had prayed that he and his family would help her. Marco had been scared, too. He did not have concrete plans for the future but did not think a baby and a pregnant not-girlfriend were part of it. His aunt and mother, though, had seen Francesca for what she truly was – a scared little girl – and had invited her into their family. They laid out all her options, promised that, no matter what she chose, they would support her, and then left her to decide. Marco did not have any real opinion on the matter but had also been told by his father that it was not his choice, and so he had stood by her and let her choose. In the end, Francesca decided to keep her baby, and the Esposito family quickly set about preparing for its arrival. Six months later, the day after Francesca turned fifteen, Thomas Esposito Kinard entered the world, named after the man Francesca believed loved her and the family that had taken her in.
Life passed quickly after that, as it does when one is busy. Francesca continued to live in the guest room of the Esposito house, watching as everyone else’s lives seemed to move forward except for her own. Marco graduated high school, enrolled at the local community college, got a girlfriend, and lost that girlfriend when she discovered he had a baby and that Francesca was living in his family’s home. He decided that school wasn’t for him and, like her father, enlisted and shipped out. He would come back occasionally, and visit with the girl living in his parents’ home and her baby, but he never wanted to be a father. He was fine with having more of an uncle-like role in his son’s life. And even though Francesca had help in the form of Maritza (Marco’s mother) and Alessia (Marco’s aunt), she felt alone most of the time. At nineteen, almost two years after graduating high school and as she worked as a waitress at the local Denny’s, David Esposito, Marco’s father, pulled her aside and asked her what she wanted out of her life. Francesca had no answer. Once, her dreams had been filled with college and traveling. Now, her days were filled with angry or horny customers and an almost-four-year-old. David had nodded, taken her hand, and told her that he had enrolled her in college. It was just community college, and she still needed to pick her classes, but it was time to quit her job at Denny’s and start living her life again.
Francesca thrived in school. She had always loved school. It had once been an escape from her bad home life and was now serving as an escape from her child. The Esposito’s took a more hands-on role in little Tommy’s life as Francesca lived her own. And, for a while, it was enough. And then Francesca was given the offer to move to Los Angeles and attend UCLA. And, of course, she wanted to accept. So she packed her things, she packed Tommy’s things – because she had never even considered leaving him behind, and, with the help of the Espisito’s, she and little Tommy moved into a small apartment in Westwood. Tommy was six now, in the 1st grade and in his school’s free after-school program. Francesca was twenty-one and having the time of her life in L.A.. Tommy missed his grandparents more and more every day.
By fourteen, Tommy figured that his mom didn’t want him. Francesca had her master’s degree by then and a fancy job in West L.A.. The two had graduated from the small apartment in Westwood and into a large apartment on the top floor of an apartment building in Santa Monica. His mom bought him all the latest electronics and all the best clothing brands. He was doing well in school and had made Varsity Football as a freshman. He had a huge group of friends and a girlfriend, Morgan. His mom left two condom boxes on his bedside table monthly and that hurt for reasons Tommy could not even begin to say and didn’t dare try to understand. He never used them, because he did not need them. He didn’t think he liked Morgan correctly, thought he might be broken, and pretended not to notice the hurt look on her face when he became the condom-dealer of their friend group. Morgan broke up with him during their junior year of high school. Told him that he was confusing and that she didn’t understand why he wouldn’t kiss her. He nodded, agreed with her assessment of him, and mourned her lost friendship more than he mourned their failed relationship.
Marco visited that winter, like he did most winters, bringing along his wife who Tommy liked well-enough, though he always wondered why his mother had not been enough. He never asked, though. He didn’t have the courage. This winter was different, though, because Natalie was pregnant. And, isn’t that exciting, Tommy? A little sister! Tommy smiled, he nodded, but his heart broke. Why hadn’t Marco wanted him? Why had Marco not wanted this family? Why was Marco allowed to be a father to a little girl when he had never been a father to Tommy?
That was the night Tommy got in trouble for the first time. He had just wanted to blow off some steam. He had just wanted to get out of the big, but suddenly too-small apartment. He couldn’t breathe there and the apartment’s gym would not help. And so, when Jamie Garcia called and asked if he wanted to hang out, Tommy had said yes. Four hours later, after being handcuffed and put into the back of a cop car, after having to deal with Marco’s sad eyes – and wasn’t that just a slap in the face? Who did Marco think he was, anyway? He had no say in how Tommy lived his life. He didn’t care before, so why would he care now? – after Francesca’s lecture and Natalie’s offer of hot chocolate before bed, Tommy decided that it hadn’t been worth it.
That didn’t stop him from answering Jamie Garcia’s next phone call.