"Look at his hair," he says in a shaking voice.
Dr. Jovan wipes off the baby’s head, and all of us stare at the tiny tuft of hair there.
"It’s exactly the same color as my talisman!"
And it really is. The delicate little strands have a fluorescent cyan glow, somewhere between luminous blue and green.
My throat tightens slightly when I speak.
"I think I already know what we should name him. I think we’ll skip the classic names my father mentioned and go with something different, something that’s ours: Cyan."
Gabriel smiles broadly. "It fits perfectly. Blue and Cyan."
I take the talisman I’d been holding and gently place it around the baby’s neck. Of course I don’t intend to leave it there permanently because it could be dangerous, but I want the gesture itself to be symbolic, and I think Gabriel’s dad understands that because he starts sniffling and wiping tears from his eyes.
"I feel like this stone was meant for him. It can’t be any other way. The stone found its new owner."
A little later Gabriel’s father joins us too, looking openly joyful. This is his first grandchild as well, and considering he’s already close to eighty, the child’s arrival must mean a great deal to him.
We aren’t allowed to enjoy the peace and privacy for very long, though, because soon my parents arrive too.
For them this is already one of many grandchildren, so they aren’t nearly as emotional about it. Oh well.
Then my brothers and nephews show up as well, but Gabriel makes sure little Cyan isn’t exposed to too many germs and holds him possessively in his arms, only allowing everyone to look from a distance. Everyone has to wear masks.
And I? I feel excellent. Nothing tore, nothing hurts.
The only thing I want is to return to our home, the coastal estate we moved into recently.
I’m only just beginning to settle into it. It still feels enormous and spacious, but we already managed to prepare the nursery there… and because of that, it’s started to feel like a nest to me.
As I watch Gabriel with his and my parents leaning over little Cyan, who is swaddled in a round baby wrap, that word comes back to me.
A nest? My inner teen jumps at the word with enthusiasm. An unexpected pull surges inside me, along with a powerful urge to build my very first nest…
…around my son.
That evening, when we return home after getting cleared by the doctors, we bring little Cyan into our bed with us because neither of us can bear to part with him yet.
When Gabriel steps into the shower, I quietly pull out the pillows I bought some time ago in an impulse I never really understood. Maybe the teen bought them?
Soft pastel ones.
I never even told Gabriel about them.
I choose the ones closest in color to cyan and begin arranging them around my sleeping baby.
After a moment, a strange excitement spreads through my entire body, like a surging wave. It’s not enough, not nearly enough.
I walk over to the closet and pull out several scarves I used to wear as a younger man during springtime.
I use them to weave the pillows together into a tight, protective circle. I work with complete focus, feeling a strange inner euphoria, like the final missing piece of a puzzle is finally sliding into place.
But it still isn’t enough.
I keep going, pulling out more pillows, even digging the sapphire-colored ones Veyron once gave us out of the suitcases we still haven’t fully unpacked.
Then, caught up in the throes of passion, I start creating a second circle around the edge of the bed, one large enough for Gabriel and me to fit inside as well.
