#45. Baby

#45. Baby

April awoke to find herself in a strange place. Her blurry eyes blinked to discover white walls, a cherry wood countertop, a wall-mounted digital clock with giant red numbers, huge rectangles of fluorescent light amidst a field of tiny black dots overhead, pieces of equipment she couldn’t identify and the wires that attached them to her. Then she turned her head to the left, where there was an empty chair, and somehow the sight had the power to make her heart drop, and she thought she was going to cry. But then she thought to look to the foot of the bed, where she saw a man standing slightly turned away, holding a baby. At first she could have sworn it was Patrick, but then, she’d never seen him hold a baby in her life, and the whole scene just looked wrong. It was at this moment that the gears in her head began to turn again at close to the proper speed.

“Pat,” she said gruffly. His head turned abruptly at the sound of her voice, and she smiled.

“Hey,” he replied, grinning back. He walked toward her slowly, turned and dropped himself and his bundle gently into the empty chair. “Mom’s awake, Eric,” he whispered.

April laughed as her husband held the boy carefully out to her. She couldn’t remember ever laughing at something so unfunny before as she took him. He was asleep now as she gazed over him, so unlike when they had cried together hours before. She risked freeing a hand, slow as she could, to touch the tiny pink nose under her own. Then she touched her own nose to his, and when she did that, soft tears returned anew. She jerked her head back quickly so they wouldn’t fall on his face. The last thing she wanted to do was wake him up now, after he’d been through so much.

She had almost forgotten about her husband. She looked over at him, carefully freeing a hand again to wipe tears from her eyes. His smile had faded, she noticed, and he was staring at the boy. When he noticed she was looking at him, Patrick flicked his eyes up at her once, then let them fall onto Eric again.

“It’s easier when he’s asleep,” he said. He took a long, slow breath, his eyes never leaving the baby. “It’s not nearly as scary now.”

“Oh,” April cooed, and took her husband’s hand.

He shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “I just don’t know how I’m going to do this.”

“We,” she replied. “You mean how we’re going to do this.”

He bobbed his head impatiently. “That’s not what I mean. I mean – I mean fatherhood. I’m talking about my job, not yours. I’m saying . . . what kind of dad am I going to be? What kind of example . . .”

“Hey,” April said, gripping his hand tighter. She looked down at the baby, and smiled at her little Eric. Then she looked up again to tend to her husband. “Shut up,” she said.

He looked back at her, incredulous.

“Pat, with all the love in my heart, I’m telling you, get over it. Right now.” She let go of his hand. “You’ll do just fine.”

He scoffed, turning his head away. “Gee, I really appreciate the support.”

“You have my support,” she said, smiling at Eric again. “It’s just that I can only take one crybaby in the family at a time. Your turn is up.”

Patrick shook his head and stared at her, agape. “Man, you are some kind of a –” he mouthed the word.

She glanced at him. “You’re right. Maybe you’ll be a horrible example after all.” Then she smiled at her husband.

He smiled back. “Okay. I’m gonna go get everybody.”

Patrick got up and stepped out of the room, leaving April alone with her newborn son, whom she loved and loved all the while.