Eric, Jody Kaye [well read books TXT] 📗
- Author: Jody Kaye
- Performer: -
Book online «Eric, Jody Kaye [well read books TXT] 📗». Author Jody Kaye
Corey yawns. His hands come up to his face. He starts rooting around, catching fingers on his nose and his cheeks, trying to stick them in his mouth. Successful, his body burrows into mine, content.
I’m so distracted by how perfect he is I don’t hear Eric return. He snuggles in, putting one arm behind me and the other over Corey. “Your momma is in the waiting area. She only has a minute before she has to go.”
“She came?” Despite the beautiful crib she gave us, Diana is the last person I expected to see, figuring Alan intended to keep her away.
“You need some time?” Eric wipes wetness from my face I hadn’t known my eyes had shed. Until today, I hadn’t given much thought to the concept of happy tears.
“Not if she has to go soon.”
You’re supposed to spend days like this with your family. Miss Rose glowed seeing Corey for the first time. This baby needs to meet the other side of his family. My mom and my sister—even if Keely is Alan’s daughter.
Eric tosses his can into a wastebasket and goes to fetch my mother.
“He’s the second most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen.” Diana rubs her finger against Corey’s cheek and it arches. “He has your dimple, right there.”
Eric had been correct. Corey is the spitting image of me as a baby.
“Oh, Darlin’, your daddy would have ecstatic if he were here today. He’s smiling down on you and this boy of yours.”
Corey fusses and his grandmother tries to soothe him. He’s hungry and wants me so my mother hands him back and the mewling stops.
“My goodness. You’re a momma now, baby.”
________________
19
________________
I made several trips to load the car. Bags filled with plush bears hung off my shoulders. Bouquets of flowers from bouquets poked out my arms in every direction. From the blankets to the tips of the dyed carnations, everything is blue. There’s even a tiny blue cooler bag the medical center filled with a premade meal for our first night home so we won’t have to cook dinner this evening.
Hopefully, it’ll get easier over time to haul everything Corey needs along. But today, I’m certain this little person travels with a lot of stuff.
On the way back to Gin’s hospital room, I bring the car seat. Gin puts Corey in it. The car seat dwarfs all eight-pounds, two-ounces of the baby. I click the restraint on the infant carrier across his chest. The nurse double-checks the fit before allowing me to wrap a blanket around our son. Leaving to gather the final discharge papers, it’s as if we’ve passed some sort of test.
“He’s adorable.” Gin giggles. With his knit cap falling over his eyebrows and the fleece pulled up around his chin, Corey resembles a hermit. “Do you think it’s weird the nurse is letting two teenagers walk out of the hospital with a newborn?”
I shrug. We’re a family now, me and Gin and Corey. I can’t imagine anything separating us.
Another woman is being pushed down the hall in a wheelchair. Her husband walks next to her. The only thing the couple has on us is age. It’s obvious they’re bringing their first baby home too. They’ve read the same books and been to the parenting classes and the dad seems just as bewildered as I am.
My girlfriend keeps talking to ease her nerves. “I supposed this must have been what it was like for my momma and daddy, but I can’t wrap my brain around what it was like for your parents. They’d left every one of you in Houston.”
There’s something about Gin knowing our story, and her seeing me as a comfort to my brother, that makes my heart swell.
My siblings and I were brought home one by one over the span of the next few months. Colton had been the first and I’ve been told he howled until I showed up next to him a week later to share the bassinet. The neonatologist hadn’t wanted me to leave because I’d done poorly that week, but he considered being without my twin might be the reason why. Thank goodness they’d been right since even back then Colton had a set of lungs on him loud enough to call the cows home.
“Y’all set to be sprung?” The nurse returns, bringing with her a wheelchair for Gin to sit in. She sets the carrier on Ginny’s lap.
The way Ginny clings to it for dear life I understand she’s as nervous as I am.
“Have you got your own place?” The woman in blue scrubs wheels Ginny towards the elevator and down to where the old convertible is parked.
I nod. The apartment is like a little slice of heaven. It’s the right size for the three of us. Or so I’d thought before seeing the shower gifts. The haul from the hospital is going to be layered over the crib, swing, boxes of diapers, and clothes the baby has. Thank heaven the portable crib is at the main house along with the high chair and other items Corey isn’t ready for. My old bedroom looks like the stockroom at a toy store.
“Figured you did, being a Kingsbrier and all,” she responds, not unfriendly but assuming a great deal.
The wheelchair comes to rest by the car and the nurse pushes the handbrake, lifting the carrier. I open the door and place my son inside. Ginny settles into the seat next to the baby, clicking the seat into its base She tucks Corey’s blanket up a bit more and pulls his cap higher so a tuft of dirty-blonde hair shows.
“Good luck to y’all.” The nurse closes Ginny inside, waving goodbye to her through the window of the back seat.
I go up front and glance back through the rearview mirror, focusing on her. She’s flawless and Corey is perfect in every way.
“What?” Ginny turns her head to see if she’s forgotten to secure her seatbelt or if someone is in the way of me backing out.
“Your smile is beautiful.” I put the key into the ignition. “We ready for this?”
“As ready as we’ll ever be.”
________________
20
________________
“Need some help?” Cris asks, taking the baby.
I don’t have the energy to fight him. Corey’s been crying for a solid hour. That is, if the five-minute reprieve he gave us counted as restarting the clock.
I’m ragged and worn. The bags under my eyes make it obvious I haven’t slept. It is a telltale sign of how fast you can get steamrolled and find yourself overwhelmed by a three-day-old.
It’s comical how something so small can affect your life so much. It seemed like we had it made when Corey was so easy to care for in the hospital. He slept, he ate, he pooped.
I cover my forehead and look at my sloppy clothes. We’re waiving the white flag.
“Don’t worry, Liz’s had the same expression after Mateo was born. I must’ve looked as bad as Eric during those first few sleepless nights as a new father.”
I take Cris’s comment to mean he’s not poking fun.
“What about Mateo?” I’m surprised I have the brainpower to be concerned.
“It’s three in the morning. He’s been out since eight o’clock last night.” Cris shifts his hip, directing my attention to the baby monitor attached to his belt. It will pick up any noise from the apartment next door.
Corey’s whole body fits between the crook of Cris’s elbow, where the baby’s head rests, and his broad forearm. His upturned palm holds Corey’s bum. Spindly legs, covered in terry baby sleeper, hang down as he rests on his belly against the warmth of Cris’s skin. Corey belches, spitting milk onto the floor.
“I swear I burped him.” I scamper to fetch a cloth from the counter to wipe up the mess. All I find is a hospital blanket. At least, it’s already dirty, so I don’t feel worse about wiping up puke. Finding the time to get a load of wash done has proven impossible.
“It’s fine. They don’t come with instructions, you know.”
“How’d you do that?” My son is now sound asleep like a drunken sailor. Cris must have a copy of the manual hidden somewhere.
“Practice,” Cris responds like it’s no big deal. “Where did Eric go?”
“Eric. He, ah…” I hold the blanket scrunched in my fist up to my forehead, regretting it when the whiff of curdled milk hits my nostrils. “Eric’s cell is dead. He’s driven up the road to ask Miss Rose for help. We didn’t know what else to do.”
A loud squishing sound emanates from the baby’s nether region. I’m beyond embarrassed and am unsuccessful at taking the baby back.
“Hold up. The smell from a little diaper is nothing when you work with farm animals. Don’t be changing Corey now. He’s bound to go again as soon as you do, or you’ll get a shower if he’s not done. Mateo hit me real good a few times before he was toilet trained. Soaked my shirt. Make sure you keep his you-know-what covered.”
“He peed on you?” I deadpan, suspending my disbelief when the baby farts.
Cris holds in a snicker. “There were a lot of times I was sure I was doing everything right and Mateo changed the rules.”
It’s finally quiet. We hear tires on the gravel outside.
“We’re back,” Eric mutters.
He has the energy level of a zombie and the manners of one too. Walking right by Cris, he goes into the bedroom and faceplants on the mattress. In the dark, the silhouette of Eric’s body is a range of lumps created by the shaft of light glowing in the living space. He’s snoring. Giving Corey over to his grandmother is tantamount to admitting defeat, but sweet lord, do I want to be lying there as well.
Free of her Texas wife warpaint, Miss Rose gives off an air of being well-rested. Quicker than Cris or I can acknowledge her presence, Eric’s mother has a burp cloth on her shoulder. She beelines for the baby like Corey’s a homing beacon. She’s pleasant despite being woken at this ungodly hour, asking after Mateo and inviting them to Christmas dinner before thanking Cris, and sending him back to his apartment.
I’m in awe of how fast she has the baby changed and the diaper disposed of.
“You go on.” She directs me toward the bed. “It’s okay to ask for help when you need it, Ginny. I got more than my fair share.”
“You had five babies at once. This is only one.” My eyes are heavy. My entire body is sore. I want to lie down, but I’m stuck, too exhausted to do anything except stand there.
“Do you want me to wake you when he needs to feed?” Rose’s voice is gentle.
There’s a sample pack of formula on the counter. I’d been told not to use it by…someone…if I planned on nursing. My milk is coming in. Maybe Corey was fussing because he was hungry? Maybe isn’t getting enough. Or maybe there’s something wrong with the milk I’m producing. And, oh my goodness, what if there’s a serious problem and Corey is sick?
“Come on, Sugar.” Holding Corey to her chest only by his bum, Rose uses her other hand to guide me onto the mattress. “I’ll be back in an hour. Once you’ve slept, it won’t seem as bad. You can make your choice then.”
Rose closes the door. My eyes close as fast as my head hits the pillow. I don’t have the wherewithal to tell her how grateful I am to her
Comments (0)