“I once read about an experiment where students watched a thousand balloons fall from the ceiling. Each balloon had one of their names written on it. They were each tasked with finding the balloon with their own name. Do you know how many were successful?”
Arthur shook his head.
“Zero,” Tristan said. “Then they did it again. And this time the students were instructed to pick up a balloon and give it to the student whose name was written on it. In minutes, everyone had their balloon. Pretty amazing, right? I think about it often, and what it says about happiness.”
Arthur sighed. “You saw that on LinkedIn didn’t you?”
“Yes. But it’s still powerful.”
Arthur laughed. “You’re one of the best people I know, Tristan. You treat people with kindness, you treat everyone like a friend. If that doesn’t make a difference in the world, then I don’t know what does.”
“Thanks for saying that.”
“But if you ever decide you want to be poor and have less flexibility, come and talk to me about teaching. I think you’d be great at it. Your catchphrases would kill.”
Tristan laughed. “Maybe.” Then, as if struck by inspiration: “Maybe I could run an online course, teaching people how to become their own boss; there could be different modules, and there—”
“Never mind, you’re hopeless. I take it all back.”
The door opened behind them and Charlie emerged, immediately wagging a threatening finger at Arthur. She had makeup running down her face and was visibly heaving.
“I. Am. Not. OK,” she said dramatically. Then she walked up to Arthur and hugged him as hard as he could ever remember being hugged in his life. “But I will be. You take care of her, you hear? If you don’t, I’ll find you, make a suit out of your skin, and do it myself. Got it?”
Arthur got goose bumps. All he could say was, “Yes, ma’am.”
He took Liam back and said goodbye to his friends, then took one deep breath before heading back in. Their first night alone with Liam. He’d read all the books, been on a crazy journey of self-discovery these past few months, and still he had absolutely no idea what to do when he walked through that door.
The pediatrician would help. All they had to do was get through one night. How hard could that be?
Liam wouldn’t stop screaming.
By midnight, they’d tried everything. Run through thechecklist of reasons babies cry. He’d eaten enough and wouldn’t take any more. He had a fresh diaper. Wren had tried rocking him. Arthur had tried bouncing him. He spat the pacifier out over and over. Nothing worked. Cries and screams and screams and cries.
What had happened to their little cooing angel?!
Arthur covered his ears and winced. Liam had cried at the hospital, but my God, it was so much more piercing here. The hospital had a steady hum of activity, machines whirring, people walking and talking outside. Their apartment was dead quiet except for the guttural wails of their newborn. Arthur felt as if his head might explode.
“Check the thermostat, maybe it’s too cold in here?” Wren pleaded while cradling Liam.
“It’s on sixty-eight; I don’t think it’s that. I really wish you’d let me re-swaddle him; it’s coming loose.”
“My swaddle is not the problem.”
“Should we try feeding him again?”
“We just tried that! He’s full.”
“Maybe he’s got gas pains. Try burping him.”
“He ripped a huge one after he last ate; it’s not gas.”
“THEN HOW THE HELL DO WE MAKE HIM STOP?!”
“I DON’T KNOW, DO YOU WANNA TRY ASKING HIM NICELY?!”
The yelling continued. Things were said that would be regretted later. But also, this was wartime. There were no rules. There was only survival.
Eventually, suddenly, and finally, the cries stopped, winding down into adorable little coos. Arthur walked over quietly to take a look at the little bundle in Wren’s arms. He’d fallen asleep, just like that. Thank fuck.
