Deporting Dominic Read Free Page A

and my son has taken to referring to him as his daddy since Danny has not put in an appearance in the last three months.
    “Bryce baby that’s Dominic remember,” I tr ied to remind him when he calls him that.
    “It’s okay Sam, I don’t mind. He feels like my son,” Dominic said proudly lifting Bryce into his arms tickling him.
    Bryce giggled loudly, “Daddy, stop it.”
    Bryce was the ultimate love of my life. I looked at my little dirty blond haired son who resembled both his parents. His laughter and personality were quite infectious as Dominic twirled him around to Bryce’s delight. Those memories bring tears to my eyes at the thought that Dominic could be deported. My son relied on his presence. Hell I relied on his presence so very much.
    “S o, what’s for dinner?” Dominic asked washing his hands in the bathroom used exclusively by the kids. I was grateful to have my own private bathroom in my bedroom.
    “We are having spaghetti and tossed salad,” Morgan informed after pulling an ear bud from her IPod out of her ear. Charlie pulled the plates out of the dishwasher preparing to set the table.
    “Bryce was crying because he wants to set the table but he c an’t reach it,” Charlie droned his voice soft. Charlie was the spitting image of my father it was almost painful to look at him sometimes. Tall for his age Charlie was still very childlike and it bothered me when people assumed he was older than he really was.
    “You were crying because you couldn’t set the table. Is that w hat men do?” Dominic asked Bryce who shakes his head a vigorous no. Without warning Bryce starts making manly grunting sounds to indicate that he was a man. I cannot help laughing when Dominic and Charlie joined in on the grunting.
    “That’s how manly men sound right Bryce?” The three cont inued grunting as Dominic picked up Bryce letting him put the silverware on the table as Charlie put the plates down. Morgan tossed the salad ignoring the manly display as she listened to her favorite songs at an ear deafening volume. Like me Morgan had a mane of jet-black hair however she was fairer skinned than I.  We looked exactly like our paternal grandmother, Clarice Gable. Grandma Clarice was a former Las Vegas showgirl who settled in another part of the desert, Tucson Arizona, with her African-American husband bearing him two sons. We visit her in the retirement home she now lived in, my grandfather having long since passed away before I was born.
    “Morgan enough with the IPod my love, it’s time for dinner,” I shout so she can hear me. At fifteen she was developing into a beautiful young woman and all I wanted to do was protect her from my fate. As much as I loved my son becoming a young mother had its challenges.
    “I know mom , the food is not even on the table,” she pointed out slipping the ear bud back in her ear dancing wildly. She gave the salad a final toss before bringing the bowl to the table. Dominic and Bryce who appear to be joined at the hip went to the refrigerator to retrieve the various salad dressings. Placing the dish of hot spaghetti on the table I point to it and then to Morgan’s ears. Reluctantly she removes the ear buds using her finger she turns the IPod off. Individuals in our family and our parent’s close friends were shocked to hear that my younger siblings took to referring to me as “Mom”. I did not correct them as it made them feel better to refer to me in this fashion. After all every waking day I felt like a mom, not just to Bryce, but to Morgan and Charlie as well.
    “Please put that in your room. If Bryce get’s a hold of it again I do not want to hear all that screaming,” I point out casually.  Immediately Morgan retreats to her room leaving the IPod behind shutting her door giving Bryce a silent warning. Bryce gives Morgan his most angelic smile to indicate he would never dream of touching her IPod again. When everyone is seated at the table including Bryce in a booster