The Test

I fooled the system. Never again will I have to buy a diaper. Never again will I have to babysit or hear the ramblings of my crazy girlfriend about how I need to "step up." I never asked for this child.

Now I'm sitting in a cheap chair in a production studio for the world's trashiest daytime talk show, and I'm ready to hear the results that will change my life forever. I am NOT the father. Say it with me, Jerry!

As he walks on stage I see the folder that contains my freedom. My sweet, sweet release from fatherhood and from Jenny rests in a manila envelope. Jerry Springer's poker face is impeccable. I don't see even a hint of "you were right" in his face when he looks my way.

Sure, biologically I may be Aniyah's father, but things just are not right. I see my friends posting how much fun they have with their kids, or how they dress them up in ridiculous outfits and do photoshoots in silly poses. That was not the experience I had thus far. Aniyah was difficult and whiny. She demanded to be held and fed all day long. Four months was about as long as I could handle.

Jerry shakes my hand and gives Jenny a quick side hug. As he sits down he has that horrible, cocky smile he always has when he's about to spill the tea. He thinks he's so clever. He isn't though. I had bypassed his whole operation.

We had been asked to overplay the results. That's the thing about Jerry Springer. It's not exactly scripted, but it's not all real either. We didn't have the test results prior to the filming of the episode but we were given suggestions on how to make the airing get more views. Throw chairs, cry, run around, get just close enough to punch somebody but do it slowly enough to where the bouncers can 'stop' you.

Jerry opens his envelope and pulls out a single sheet of paper, placing it atop the folder.

"Welcome back, everybody. The test results are in. Gareth, in the case of four-month-old Aniyah Kate, you..."

Meeting Jenny

We were both just sixteen the first time we met. It was at a party, and I was wasted. As an average looking gamer with a small circle of friends, I was shocked when a gorgeous blonde approached me. Jenny was very much sober, and she was exceedingly flirtatious. I remember asking her to back off a little. I had no way to prove I was the drunk one if any word were to get out that she was trying to hook up with me. My friends talked shit to me for not appreciating the situation. Jenny pushed harder. She asked me to walk her to the bathroom inside of the large, parent-free home of our mutual friend. My friends egged me on. Thinking she was ill or felt unsafe, I obliged. She stepped into the restroom and a few seconds later she opened the door. This time she was completely naked and beckoned me to follow her.

I did what any sixteen year old boy would do; I let go of my morals in the heat of the moment and I joined her. It was the biggest mistake of my life. It was also the most fun I had ever had.

We were inseparable for almost two weeks. Jenny was beautiful, funny, and seemed so genuine. We had an incredible chemistry and we had more in common than I had ever known possible. Movies, books, TV shows, video games, school subjects . . . almost down to the numbered spots of our top ten favorite songs.

A Blessing and a Curse

Eleven days later I found a positive pregnancy test in her bathroom trash can. I could see her periodically crying when she thought I wasn't watching. Why didn't she want to tell me? In teenage years, two weeks was more like 6 months.

I waited four days before spilling the beans about finding the test. I told her I wasn't upset and that I'd be there for her through it all. She looked shocked and horrified, then relieved. Had she really thought I would just take off and leave her to raise this child alone? I would get a job at Burger King, I'd get us a nice apartment with a view, and things would be perfect. How bad could it be to have a beautiful woman around every day?

Excited at the thought of building our new life together, Jenny decided it was time to tell our family.

Going Public

I had never expected this part to go so smoothly. Jenny's mother and grandmother were overjoyed. Her father was not in the picture. Jenny's siblings celebrated by arguing over who would get her room.

Jenny's mom, who now insisted she be called Abuela, sat us down and told us several truths:

Our life a month ago was no longer our life today.

We needed a savings, and she agreed to let us live in her small rental home across town for free while we adjusted.

Burger King does not pay enough to buy a nice apartment with a view.

Did you know you have to pay for lights and water?

We had to apply for food stamps, Medicaid, and WIC. We also had to attend every appointment we made.

We still were expected to both graduate high school.

Abuela's house has no rules when the baby came.

Jesus saw us every time there was any (as she put it) "hanky panky."

We soon settled into our new house and I began working at a grocery store as a bagger after school and on weekends. Jenny would get raging mad when I picked up an extra shift and would accuse me of cheating on her. Pregnancy changed just about every aspect of our relationship.

Her pregnancy was difficult from the start. She had horrible issues with things like remembering simple tasks such as cleaning half the house, watching half a movie, or leaving food out and making more without eating the first serving. Every night when I got home it was a surprise to see what she had started and abruptly stopped in favor of a new activity. I also noticed when we would watch our favorite movies she would use phrases such as, "I can't wait to see how this ends." I pitied her. It must be exhausting to grow a human from the inside out.

Jenny became upset from that point forward if I did not introduce her as my fiancé, even though I had not proposed. I was expected to immediately break the news about the baby to everyone I spoke with, lest she grow fangs and become murderously angry. She had never been like this before. Still, I had gotten her pregnant and my school's limited exposure to sexual education had taught me a few things about how hormones can cause mood swings or irrational behavior. I tried to continue to love her and support her unconditionally. We were now three months into this life, and I was mostly happy.

That was, until I saw her studying my Facebook profile as if it were materials for a major exam.

The Fight

"What are you doing?" She had a calm, cool demeanor about her as she thought of how to respond to me. She slowly turned around and stated, "I want to fix this. I want to fix us. I feel like you think I'm some monster you knocked up and now you're stuck."

My heart dropped. Jenny was making moves to save our relationship and I was criticizing her for it. She realized my weak position and called it out. "I literally saw a photo I thought you looked cute in, and I started looking through your photos. You seemed mad at me and I didn't want to bother you in person." Tears swelled in her eyes. "I try and try and try with you but you don't care. I cook. I clean. I go to school. I carry your baby. It's never enough for you. I wanted to do something good for us and remember our memories from the last three months. I wanted to do the little things you love like having coffee ready for you in the mornings, going on hikes before Sunday dinner, learn a little more about your family . . ." "Jenny, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to start a fight. What's that?"

Jenny tried to shove the tiny piece of paper that had slipped out into her pocket inconspicuously but she had failed miserably. I looked at my Facebook profile. "I thought you said you were looking at my photos. Why are you going through my likes and interests?" Then it hit me. I grabbed the paper that was still haphazardly hanging out of her pocket to see a list of my favorite sports teams, movies, books, and songs . . . almost down to the exact numbers on my list. Jenny had a secret, and I was in no mood to play her games. "Explain," I demanded.

"Fine. Give me your phone," she cried. "Why? What does my phone have anything to do with this?" "I need to make sure you don't record this," she pled. Confused, betrayed, and a little frightened I handed this crazy and foreign woman my phone. It was like staring into the eyes of a stranger.

"I've wanted a baby for a long time," she began. "I know I'm young, but I've taken care of my siblings since they were really little. I just didn't have anyone to have a baby with." "Bullshit, you're a gorgeous woman. You could literally have a baby with anybody." "Not at sixteen. I'm not a woman. I'm still a girl in most people's eyes. I knew I wanted a baby, I just needed someone to have one with. Most of the guys at our school are pigs. You know this. So I decided to learn more about the guys who maybe didn't have as much experience with girls. The nerdier guys. You and your friends. Scott was out obviously because we had just broken up days before the party. Juan is somehow a distant cousin. I don't think that's good for children. Gavin is just too weird for me. I'm pretty sure he wears a tinfoil hat at home." "Jenny, I don't know where you're going with this but get to the point. I'm not in the mood for gossiping with you."

"The point is, you were an easy choice. All of your information is public. Did you know that? Even before we were Facebook friends I could see everything about you. And I didn't just write a list like this one to say I liked the same things. I invested in your interests. I spent hours studying your favorite shows, music, books, podcasts, and anything I could find on you. I know your distant family just in case we ever need to see them. I know your banking information, social security number, previous addresses . . ." "You're crazy." At this, her face hardened. "Crazy? Do you want to talk crazy? Someone changes their whole life for you and the only thing they want is a baby but they are the crazy one? Let's talk about that. No, actually let's talk about the age of consent here. Do you know what it is? It's seventeen. Only one of us is seventeen, Gareth. How do you think you'll go on for the rest of your life if I tell? Did you know you'd be on the sex offender registry if you were to leave me? You'd have to report every time you moved, you'd be tracked, and you may even go to prison." "Jen, wh- . . . everything we have ever done has been consensual. We were both sixteen when we started dating." With a confident half-smile, she walked out of the room and whispered, "But they don't know that."

I shifted my stance after realizing I had been in a terribly uncomfortable position for a long time and I was unaware due to my level of newfound fear towards the mother of my child. How did I get into this? How do I get out of it?

Jenny poked her head back into the room. "Gareth, before you make any decisions, just remember I'm five months pregnant and maybe you pushed me around too much and I accidentally got a black eye. They're not hard to get, you know." She was evil at this point. I was scared momentarily, until something clicked. "How are you five months along?" "I meant three," she corrected a little too quickly.

The Baby Shower

Jenny now had complete control over my entire life. She insisted on us posing every day together in the same outfit to show her exact growth. Day 100 is around the size of a lemon. I'd know by the pregnancy books all over the house. This week I asked Jenny to go to her ultrasound, trying to make the best of a nightmare situation. Overjoyed, Jenny rushed me out of the door. Due to COVID I was not allowed to go into the back with her, so I spent some time looking at different magazines and OB/GYN literature strewn about the crowded waiting area.

I never realized the numbers on ultrasounds show how far along you are. Why had Jenny's never shown these dates? We left silently when the appointment was over, and I noticed the newest set of ultrasound photos had numbers at the top like the ones I had seen in the waiting room. I picked one up and Jenny immediately snatched it from my hand with a smile. "Uh-uh," she smiled. "This one is special. We can see it at the baby shower at the same time as the family when we find out if it's a boy or girl." "I thought that was a gender reveal party," I questioned. "Do you want to pay for two parties?" Her smile today seemed genuine. She looked almost truly happy. I wished I could share this joy.

Later at the party, the numbers were still on the photos and they matched her expected due date. There was a name on the ultrasound I was unfamiliar with, and I made it a point to familiarize myself more with the staff at her doctor's office next time we needed to go. I had been so sure she was lying about how far along she was because of her growth and how quickly we did the shower, but she had just been excited for our baby. As much as I'd like to say I didn't, I once again found myself feeling bad for her. I tried my best to be a father and the man that she wanted. She had hand picked me, after all. Abuela told us she was proud of us for not dropping out of school and for working together on our relationship to provide a good life for what we found out was a baby girl. That night, we decided to go with the name Mariana.

She finally let me out of the house to have a night to myself and I decided to go see Scott. Scott was Jenny's ex, but he had been my best friend for longer. They had not been together long and Scott was down on his luck. He had gotten fired from the one motel in town and I pulled some strings to get him a job bagging groceries with me. Having the new title of shift supervisor also helped in that decision. Scott had been thrown out by his parents for dropping out of school. I agreed to let him move in without consulting with Abuela or Jenny.

Jenny was not thrilled, but she allowed it since there was no animosity between the two of them. I waited until Jenny was fast asleep to tell Scott what was happening. "She's nuts, man. What do I do?" We came up with a plan together to get Jenny out of my life for good.

A Star is Born

Aniyah was born two months early weighing 8lbs 4oz, and she was very healthy. I was surprised the doctor didn't question Jenny going into labor so early, but we were thankful for our healthy baby girl. "Pre-eclampsia," Jenny had said. "It makes them come out early but we'll both be fine. By the way, there was a change of plans. Her name is Aniyah Kate Larona." She had given my daughter her own last name, and had used the only first name I had been vehemently against.

The next few months were particularly difficult. The US offers no paternal leave, but that didn't mean I was on light duty at home. Jenny did not want to breastfeed, which I didn't mind. What I did mind was her pretending not to hear Aniyah all hours of the night. I was the sole changer of diapers, feeder of hungry mouths, cleaner of all toys and dishes, and I was still working and in my last semester of online school.

Scott was a bit of a mooch at that point. He still was not working and had not re-enrolled in school. He didn't cook, didn't clean, and definitely could not be trusted to babysit. The only reason I needed him around was for our plan.

We spent hours watching talk show audition tapes and interviews. We sent our tape out to every major news station. We were desperately in need of ridding ourselves of the hell of a screaming woman and baby in our home. Scott and I jumped when an email notification popped up. The message was from the producers of the Jerry Springer Show. They explained we would be flying out to Stamford, all expenses paid. They wanted us to bring only myself, Jenny, and Aniyah. Scott would have to stay behind. A follow up email stated that because the audition tapes requested a paternity test, they would need a cheek swab from the three of us. This show was dumb enough to let us test at home! My day had finally come. I told Jenny we were doing it as a joke and for clout. She cautiously agreed. Instead of having my own cheek swab, I got Scott to put his in my test tube. I chuckled to myself at the thought of this helping me get off "Scott-free." Aniyah was four months old now and this was her first flight. She cried a good bit but I didn't mind holding her, especially knowing this would take Jenny out of my life completely.

Jerry! Jerry!

"I have something to say," Jenny interrupted. "Jenny, do you want to hear the results first?" "No," Jenny barked. "I want this dumb ass boy to step up and be the father he needs to be. He shouldn't need a test to prove he needs to be a man."

The crowd went wild with screams of "You tell him!" and "Jerry! Jerry!"

Internalizing the hurt, I remembered we were there because we were paid to be there. I played along with, "I'd be surprised if you could narrow it down to the five most likely fathers. Aniyah looks nothing like me." This was almost painful to say since I had started to grow fond of the chubby cheeked, loud little girl. At this the men took my side, yelling Jerry's name in anticipation of the negative paternity results. I almost wished I could be the one to read them to Jenny, who had to be stopped by bouncers as she attempted to fling a chair at me.

Jerry intervened. "Alright, let's settle down. Well, the results are in."

"Gareth," he continued, "in the case of four-month-old Aniyah Kate, you ARE the father."

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