Because that was supposed to be a big event. The first smile I was too late for. The first step, though, that could be mine.
“No,” she said quietly. “I mentioned he’s a little late at thirteen months, but I think any day now.”
I’d screwed that up, I realized. I hadn’t intended to make her feel guilty for what I’d missed. Fuck, I’d been in prison. There was no scenario in which I wasn’t going to miss a chunk of time with him. What mattered now was how I got caught up.
“This is awkward, Ash, and we don’t do awkward,” I reminded her.
“Then maybe you can say something mean to me, and I can say something snarky to you, and we’ll remember what it’s like to be us.”
My lips twitched at that. “That phone number you gave me, is that legit? Can I call you on it, or is there a burner phone I need to use?”
Her lips curved up at that as well. “Well, there is the bat phone, but I don’t think you’ve earned the right to call me on it. Yet.”
There, this felt better. This loosened something in my chest. My nerves were at least settled enough now to focus on the kid.
“So, how does this work? Do I just start talking to him? Because I have to tell you, I don’t know the first thing about babies.”
“Neither did I. I was so afraid, because my father was so awful, I might be missing the parent gene, but it all just came so easy. I loved him from the moment I could feel him moving around inside me. Because he was a part of us together, but also just him on his own. For whoever he was going to be. Then he was here, and he was perfect. I told myself all I had to do was not sell him to a psychotic pedophile, and I would be winning the parent competition.”
“Yeah, that’s good. Rule number one, we don’t sell the kid into marriage.”
“Rule number two, we never hit him,” she added.
“Ever,” I added. “And we never lock him in his room. I hated that shit, Ash.”
She smiled. “No locks on the doors.”
I got down on the carpet next to him, and he startled when he realized I was behind him. Then I became this thing for him to study. He patted my knee, my face. Eventually, he handed me a train and I accepted it.
I glanced at Ash to see if this was right or wrong, to actually be taking the toy away, and I saw a tear she couldn’t control slip down the side of her face.
She wiped it away and smiled at me. “High praise. That’s his favorite one.”
Which proved evident when he immediately reached for it again. Grunting at me, as if to indicate it was time to give it back. Which I did. We played that game for a while, until he grew bored with me, and, instead, used me to get to his feet. I watched as he attempted to move beyond me, only to fall on his diaper-clad butt.
Then I watched as he made a face, like suddenly he was mad about something.
“What’s happening?” I looked up from my perch on the floor. “Why is he making that face?”
“That’s his poop face.”
I looked at the kid. Yeah, I could kind of see it.
“He didn’t get that from me,” she said. “He got that from you.”
“Uh, excuse me. I’m pretty sure you’ve never been in the vicinity when I’ve pooped.”
“I just know I’ve never made that face, ever. So, it has to come from your side.”
“I take offense to that.” Then the smell wafted out from his little body. “Oh, wow, I really take offense to that. That can’t possibly be coming from him.”
“Trust me, he’s done worse. Like full blowouts of his diaper and onesie, worse.” She got out of her chair and picked him up, giggling as she did. Then, bent in close to sniff around his rear.
“Who’s a stinky boy? Phew!”
Daniel found this oddly hysterical. I got up and followed them down the hallway to the nursery. I had no intentions of changing a poop diaper my first time out, but I figured it was probably important to watch and learn.
And support.
