Jordan watches intently, like he’s memorizing every detail. “I’ve been doing everything wrong.”
“You haven’t been doing anything wrong. Babies are just… particular. Each one is different.” I look down at Henry, who’s starting to fall asleep against my shoulder. “You’ll figure out his preferences.”
“I hope so.” Jordan rubs his face with both hands. “I was trying to get him to the store. I need to buy groceries, but the thought of taking him into a supermarket by myself is terrifying.”
I can hear the desperation in his voice. This is clearly a man who’s used to being competent, used to having control over his environment. Being responsible for a baby has turned his world upside down.
“Is there someone who could watch him for you?”
“No.” The word comes out quickly, like he’s practiced saying it. “I mean, there are people I could ask, but I don’t want to be a burden. I should be able to handle this.”
There’s something familiar about that sentiment. The determination to manage everything alone, even when it’s clearly too much. I lived that way for years after Ash’s father left.
“What if I came with you?” The offer comes out before I can stop myself. “I don’t have any plans this morning, and an extra pair of hands might make it easier.”
Jordan’s relief is immediate and overwhelming. “You would do that? You don’t even know me.”
“I know you’re struggling with a baby, which tells me you’re trying your best. And I know what it’s like to feel like you’re drowning.” I bounce Henry gently as he starts to fuss again. “Besides, I like grocery shopping. Weird, I know.”
“I don’t want to impose.”
“You’re not imposing. I’m offering.” I smile at him. “I’m Alexa, by the way. Alexa Costello.”
“Jordan Hadley.” He looks like he might cry from gratitude. “Are you sure about this? I have no idea how long it’ll take.”
“I’m sure.” I glance back at my house, where I can hear the TV still playing. “I’ll need to bring my son.”
“Your son. Right. I’ve seen him around.”
“Ash,” I say.
He nods. “Take all the time you need. We’ll be right here.”
I hand Henry back to Jordan, showing him how to hold him upright against his chest. “Like this. Support his head, but let him look around. He’s curious about the world.”
Jordan takes Henry carefully, and I can see him mentally cataloging every instruction I give him. Henry settles against his uncle’s chest without complaint, seeming content to be held properly.
“Just a few minutes,” I say, then hurry back to my house.
“Ash, we’re going to help our neighbor with some errands,” I call as I grab my purse.
“We are?” He sits up, face wrinkling in confusion.
“He’s watching his sister’s baby, and he needs help.”
I feel bad about tearing Ash away from his cartoons, and I’m about to promise to sit down and watch a movie with him later, but to my pleasant surprise, he launches off the couch and grabs his shoes with an “Okay!”
As we head out, I catch myself wondering about Jordan’s story. A baby he clearly isn’t used to caring for. The expensive car and well-maintained house that suggest he’s got money but no domestic experience. And whatever situation has left him watching his nephew “for a while.”
None of it is really my business, but something about the lost look in his eyes when he was dealing with Henry’s crying reminds me of myself in those early days with Ash. The feeling that everyone else got a manual for this parenting thing and you’re just making it up as you go along.
Maybe I can’t solve my own problems right now, but I can help a neighbor figure out how to buy groceries with a baby. It’s a small thing, but sometimes small things matter most.
We head back outside, where Jordan is still holding Henry exactly the way I showed him. The baby is calm, looking around with those serious dark eyes.
“Jordan, this is Ash.”
“Nice to meet you.” Ash extends his hand for a shake, and my chest swells with pride.
