We’re lovely people, Dan and I. We came to China because the mother spirit wants us to take in a child who already breathes rather than create anew. We’re ready. Dan plays jazz trombone, he’s as New Orleans as they come. I’m a financial planner for divorced women. We’re also regular. We eat peanut butter, mainstream, organic, we have a line on what really matters. Dan and me, we’re good people begging. I was adopted. I know what it is to make family.
But the family won’t get made, not entirely. I can’t get a line on little beige Derry. He’s mine but he doesn’t want to be mine. He’s a fish that gets away, not from Dan though. He wants Dan’s song. Dan looks at me different. I can see his first wife in his head, the paws on way she had with the babies they made. I hate jazz now. Jazz doesn’t give a shit. I play tight pop when Dan’s not here, pop doesn’t brat out on you and wander to daddy just because. I hit Derry yesterday. Dan can’t see it. He doesn’t know Derry’s skin like I do. Dumb jazzman, good daddy though, I’ll give him that.
But the family won’t get made, not entirely. I can’t get a line on little beige Derry. He’s mine but he doesn’t want to be mine. He’s a fish that gets away, not from Dan though. He wants Dan’s song. Dan looks at me different. I can see his first wife in his head, the paws on way she had with the babies they made. I hate jazz now. Jazz doesn’t give a shit. I play tight pop when Dan’s not here, pop doesn’t brat out on you and wander to daddy just because. I hit Derry yesterday. Dan can’t see it. He doesn’t know Derry’s skin like I do. Dumb jazzman, good daddy though, I’ll give him that.