When Suitcase Judy left for the night, Shirley called her cousin, Clyde, who owned a bar in central Michigan about an hour and thirty minutes from J&J Bar. Shirley appreciated Clyde’s usually sound advice. Running through the entire Suitcase Judy situation, Shirley explained to Clyde how she wished that she could just have Suitcase Judy’s baby.
“Well, why don’tcha?” Clyde asked, genuinely unaware of any reason why this couldn’t happen.
“Because even though I find myself to be a damn good mother, the courts of Michigan would probably say otherwise,” Shirley huffed. “I could never pass an adoption test or whatever the hell they do, and my mom and dad would make sure of it. At their age, they’ve already raised Johnnie and Mickey, and they don’t want a third kid dumped on their doorstep. And besides, you know I can’t afford that.”
Shirley was right. She barely raised her only two kids. John and Mickey spent most of their upbringing with their grandparents, while Shirley was preoccupied with working on her revolving relationships.
“Look,” Clyde sighed. “Let me ask around here. I might be able to help you get this baby without all the humble jumble of courts and stuff. If that’s what you really want?”
“It is!” Shirley impulsively agreed, her voice raising in excitement.
“Mmkay, I’ll talk to ya later then.”
Shirley, filled with both nerves and excitement, set down the phone. She never thought that she would have another baby, and even after telling Clyde about Suitcase Judy’s baby, she didn’t really believe that it would be possible for her to “adopt” the baby. Clyde’s optimism gave Shirley hope though. It was, after all, the perfect solution for Shirley’s problem and, of course, Suitcase Judy’s problem too. Shirley knew that Gary P. would have to stay if she had a baby. Their relationship would flourish; she just knew it to be so. It worked with all her other husbands—for a time at least.
When Suitcase Judy arrived at the bar the next day looking more tired than usual, Shirley told her the exciting news.
“So, what’s in it for me?” Suitcase Judy asked bluntly and commercially. Although she seemed uninterested in the prospect of a baby, Shirley noticed a familiar glossy look in Suitcase Judy’s eyes. And at that moment, Shirley almost felt terrible for Suitcase Judy until she remembered that she was the one who needed a baby.
As my mother, Shirley, told me the story, she did so with the vigor, animation, and intensity of an Appalachian raconteur. My mother told me the specifics of the deal as if she had just finalized and celebrated, as the chief labor negotiator, a UAW/Big 3 labor dispute. Suitcase Judy would give her baby to Shirley. Shirley would pay all maternity expenses and a reasonable stipend for Suitcase Judy to get back on her feet. Little Frankie (as the baby would eventually be known) would periodically visit J&J Bar so that Suitcase Judy could, as a pretend-loving mother, see the fruits of her labor (so to speak). Suitcase Judy, for all her troubles, would be compensated with drinks on the house.
Once the deal was done, Suitcase Judy sat back and looked towards the windows at the front of the bar. Her profession of choice basically gave her no choice but to agree. In her mind’s eye, she did the right thing because there would be no abortion. A saintly saving of a life; she was doing God’s work.
Shirley was ecstatic. But, like a coach before a big game, an immense amount of planning needed to be done. “Where do I start?” Shirley muttered to herself as she poured Suitcase Judy another drink.
(To Be Continued)
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Looking forward to part 6!