He loved all his nephews and nieces—they were the ones who had named his rats—but Arya was the most curious and smartest of them all. He could tell by the way she looked at the toys, even at her parents, as if in her seven weeks of life she already understood the crap they blurted all the time.
“Water, beer, anything?”
“I’m fine.”
“You know, Arya’s like a cat,” Sophia said, putting a hand on her hip—her classic lecturing pose.
“Why the hell would you compare your baby to a cat?”
“First, she’s as cute as one.”
“Okay, can’t fight you on that.”
“And second, she’s so sweet and joyful. You’ll die there because you won’t want to move just to keep her little gurgling sounds coming.”
Marc’s chest vibrated with laughter. “Well, that’d be a beautiful death,” he said, readjusting his now uncomfortable position. The arm that was holding his niece was already numb, and his crossed legs tingling after he’d sat like a statue for over an hour.
“I think there are better ways to go.” She moved her fist in a jerking-off motion and clicked her tongue.
“I can’t believe you.” He cackled. “You seriously talking about sex in front of her?”
“Don’t be such a prude, bro. She won’t even remember.”
“Are you really a first-time mother? Because you sound like a savvy one with a thousand kids.”
“Have you seen the woman who raised us?”
“Fair.”
Their mom was the best. A modern hippie, you could say, and not only because she mostly wore psychedelic long skirts, peasant blouses, and jeans that reminded him of the seventies. She and their father, before he passed away, had always been very open with their five daughters and two sons.
Life, death, music, sex. They had talked with them about everything earlier than most parents did, never shying away from the most uncomfortable conversations. So it made sense that Sophia was so chill about it all, especially being the youngest and having seen their other siblings raise their kids.
“You sure you’re good?”
“Dude, you’re only twenty-eight, and you’re already more annoying than Mom. Stop it and leave us alone.”
“I don’t mean likeright now. You seem off since you arrived.”
Fuck this witch.
Marc’s jaw ticked. “I’m fine.”
“Liar.” Sophia plopped beside him on the couch, throwing her feet over the coffee table. “Spill it,” she said, scratching her baby’s belly, which only forced more cute little cooing sounds that resembled something like a giggle out of her.
“I have nothing to say to you. Go away, you pestering vermin.”
“It must be really bad if you don’t wanna talk about it with me.”
“It’s not bad, just confusing.”
“Ah! I knew it!” Sophia shouted, startling Marc and Arya. The baby, of course, began to cry.
“Jesus, you’re the worst mom in the world,” he blurted without thinking while putting the little girl front down on his forearm, hand holding her chin in place as he rocked her.
Sophia’s eyes filled with tears. She acted like everything was fine, which made it easy for everyone to forget her hormones and emotions were still a mess. Doc said it wasn’t postpartum depression per se, but close enough. Good thing the support system in this family was pretty solid.
“Oh, fuck. Sorry, that was a bad joke.” Marc felt so guilty. He’d rather get a kick in the balls than see his sister cry.
