For a moment, I stand over his bassinet and stare. I made that. I didn’t do any of the hard work, but still… he came from my genes. He’s my kid. I created him.
The thought makes my chest feel tight and overfull. Not in a sappy way but almost in a concerning way, as if someone is forcing too much air into my lungs and they’re going to burst.
I take several quiet steps backward and drop onto my bed when the backs of my legs hit the edge. I’m so fucking tired. Even with as good as Axl is, feeding him every three hours is exhausting. Then there’s changing him, washing him, worrying about whether he’s breathing. Every little sound that comes out of him can be alarming because I don’t know what it means.
My eyes close. Everything in my body feels heavy right now. I’m so tired. It’s a lot of effort to turn my head to look at the clock.11:48. I used to stay up later than this. I also got a solid six hours of sleep when I went to bed late. I’m lucky if I get two uninterrupted hours right now.
He’s only three weeks old. The dozens of books I’ve read said that he could become a much worse sleeper. He could turn fussy. He could scream all day, and I’ll never understand why, because he doesn’t even know how to tap the place that hurts.
He could start teething super early, and that could make him miserable. He could just not sleep. Some babies struggle with sleep.
I miss Brek. I’ve barely seen him since Axl’s birth. He visited once when he and his friends stopped by to meet my son, but otherwise, I haven’t seen him. I hate that.
Forcing myself up, I decide I’m going to change that. Right now. God, I feel sluggish. My feet feel like they’re filled with cement. I’m so fucking tired.
Three weeks. It’s only been three weeks. Now I understand why Uncle Noaz and Briar were always so damn tired. And there were two of them!
I set diapers, a change of clothes, and another blanket at the end of Axl’s bassinet. Then I gently unlock the wheels and we’re off. I bought this bassinet because it’s on wheels and therefore easy to move around my room. It also has a max weight limit almost three times what the average bassinet does. I kept looking at them, thinkingwhat a waste of money when they can only use it for a month.
The hall is empty when I poke my head out. “Time for your first field trip,” I tell Axl. “Be a good boy, okay?”
I wheel his bed down the hall and stop in front of Brek’s door. For just a second, my chest feels tight, thinking that maybe he’s locked his door again. It’s not like he signed up for a newborn in his room just so I can hold him.
My sigh of relief sounds loud when the door opens easily. Thank fuck. I shut the door silently behind me and give myself a minute to let my eyes adjust. There’s a light on somewhere. As I stroll Axl toward Brek’s bed, I see that he left the bathroom light on.
Brek is spread out on his stomach.
I park Axl near the wall so neither of us trips over him if we climb out of bed. For just a moment, I rest my hand gently over Axl’s chest. Just to feel his breathing. His heartbeat. Is he too cold? Too hot? Is he uncomfortable? Did I wrap him snugly enough?
My god, do these worrying questions ever stop?!
He’s fine. I turn away and strip on my way to Brek’s bed. For just a moment, I pause and glance back at my son. Well… he’s a newborn. No matter what happens tonight—and I don’t anticipate anything happening—he’s far too young to remember. This isn’t a science fiction novel where my boy is a different breed and remembers shit from days after his birth.
Probably.
I climb into Brek’s bed. He jerks awake and looks at me. I get close enough so he can see that it’s just me. Sighing, he drops flat on the bed again. I take that as an invitation that I can join him. He didn’t ask me what the fuck I was doing here. Nor did he tell me to go away.
With my hand on his hip, I pull him toward me. He wiggles and twists until he’s against my chest and I can bury my face in hishair. Brek sighs. I’m nearly asleep when he pulls free. Before I can ask him what’s wrong, he’s facing me, and we’re tangled together chest to chest.
Okay, fine. This is better.
Brek sighs. His fingers move absently over my back. I tangle my fingers in his soft hair.
Once again, I’m almost asleep when he says, “Are you supposed to be in here?”
I’m far too tired to understand what that question means. “Do you want me to leave?”
He shakes his head.
A minute passes before he asks, “Does Lorissa know you’re in here?”
I’m not sure why he’s asking. My brain is sluggish as I think about whether Lor knows I’m in Brek’s room. Probably not. I didn’t announce it. But I don’t think this would be the last place she’d look for me either. She knows we’ve been hanging out. She knows I’ve spent many nights with him.
“Dunno,” I say. “Sleep, Brek. I’m so fucking tired.”
There’s a chance he falls asleep first, but I think it’s me, and I don’t sleep long. I’m startled awake when someone whispers my name over and over until I nearly jump up from the bed. My glasses are askew, which speaks to how tired I am. I haven’t fallen asleep with my glasses on since I was a kid.
However, that means I can see Mary Sue, one of the staff from the kitchen. “Mr. Van Doren,” she whispers. “Voss. I’m so sorry. It’s feeding time.”
