“How do I?” I gesture to how she’s holding him, laying in her arms and she smiles at me.
“It’s easy, Mikah. Just bend your arm so you can support his head with your arm and elbow and then hold him with the other arm.”
I do what looks like she’s doing and then she settles the bundle in my arms. He’s so light.
The heaviest thing I’ve ever held even though he doesn’t weigh much. How can something be so small and big at the same time?
His large eyes are open and he blinks, kicks his legs while I adjust him until he looks more comfortable.
I am anything but that.
How is it possible that I am now a father to a baby when I have never had a girlfriend? I am twenty-three years old and I know I’m not normal in that, definitely not in the United States. But even in Denmark, it is not common.
Although I would venture it would be if more children were raised in my house with my father’s strict standards, lack of caring words, and a mother who kept quiet.
“Angelo,” I murmur and I can’t help it. My smile begins before the muscles follow as I look down at him. He smells nice. Looks funny with a big forehead and smooshed nose but he smells nice. I repeat his name, smiling, and glance up.
Paisley is there. Still close. She has his blanket in her hand and she drapes it over his body. “So he stays warm,” she whispers, still smiling. Eyes shining.
“Thank you.”
I barely remember the time since she showed up at my door. I don’t think I have been very nice to her. “Thank you for your help.”
“I can stay until your friends get here,” she offers.
I should man up like my teammates tell each other and grow some balls. I am now a parent, I am certain he is mine. And yet, I’m clueless.
“What is all that?” I ask and nod at the mess now piling up all over my kitchen counter.
“Oh, I emptied the diaper bag while you were on the phone. I thought it’d help to know what you have, what you need.”
“Thank you.” It leaves me in a heavy whoosh. What I need? I have no idea. There’s a chair-like contraption on the floor and an empty bag with a mess on the counter. I know nothing of baby stuff except whenever my teammates have had babies, they constantly complain about how little they sleep. “Will you help explain them?”
“The baby stuff?” She smiles, and I can tell she wants to laugh.
Being clueless is embarrassing and yet I don’t care. I don’t think she’s laughing at me.
“And stay,” I tell her. “Please stay. You can meet my friends? Byron is bringing dinner with him.”
“I’ve already eaten, but I can stay and help, Mikah. I don’t have plans tonight.”
No date. This girl home alone on a Friday? For a brief moment, I wonder how many Fridays we’ve both spent alone and ignore it as quickly.
I’m a dad now. And the season is starting soon. I don’t have time for women even if they’re beautiful and kind and helpful.
“Thank you.”
She heads toward the counter and I follow her, the baby still in my arms and so quiet I look down at him. He’s sleeping again, a lump the weight of a sack of potatoes in my arms.
And yet it feels like the weight of the world.
“This is his formula,” she starts, pointing to two cylinder containers next to bottles. “The instructions for filling them are on the sides and Angelo’s mom left several notes.”
“How kind of her.” She gives him her name and then ditches him. Another round of anger punches my gut. I can find her easily and I will, if only it is to yell at her for this.
“That’s what I thought,” Paisley says. If I am not mistaken, she has anger in her eyes, too.
She then continues explaining everything and I’m trying to listen. I really am. Mostly I’m lulled into an overwhelmed catatonic state by the sound of her voice. She smiles at me often, raises her brows as if she’s asking if I’m following her, and her voice is so sweet and playful, easy to listen to. She has a great voice, not a terribly good singing one from what I overheard, but when she speaks, it still sounds like a beautiful song.
What she doesn’t realize is I quit understanding half of what she’s saying almost as soon as she started. I learned English from the time I was young, but some words are still strange especially when I don’t understand the context. Anything related to anything to do with babies is definitely not something I have the context of, but I nod and pray Byron brings his wife Hannah with him.
Not only do they have kids so they can help, but they also live close. They cannot get here soon enough. When I called Byron, he first gave me a hard time about being in a hurry to go out.
When I said, “There’s a woman here. With a baby. Saying he’s mine,” he said nothing else other than “I’m on my way.”
He hung up before I could ask for him to bring Hannah.
“Are you lost?” Paisley asks, and I squeeze my eyes closed before opening them.
“I’m right here.”
She huffs a quiet, playful sound and shakes her head. “I meant, do you understand, or have I confused you?” She’s holding up an outfit with snaps that go from the top all the way down one leg to the foot area and I have no idea what she was saying.
How am I supposed to focus on anything?
“I am lost.” I might as well have been dumped on a baseball field for as much as any of this means to me.
My phone rings with the ringtone that says it’s the desk downstairs and I jump at the noise. It has to be Byron but I’m holding Angelo and I glance at my phone then the bundle in my arms.
Paisley appears in front of me, arms outstretched, smiling so kindly. “I can take him while you get the phone. You’ll figure out how to do both soon.”
“Thank you.” This shouldn’t be so difficult, right? People parent babies all the time. Except they have notice, I suppose. Time to prepare. I have nothing except from what Paisley said, enough diapers to get through the night. I hand him off and grab my phone.
“Now the desk calls and tells me I have visitors,” I mumble.
Behind me, Paisley laughs.
I answer the phone, allow Pierre to send Byron up to me and when I set the phone down, Paisley is doing the rocking and swaying thing. I have to learn how to do that.
“Have you spent time with babies?” I ask. It seems such a natural thing for her.
“I worked at a daycare center in high school and usually worked in the infant room, so yeah, a little.”
“You know what to do.” I cringe. I must seem so dumb to her, and I don’t like looking dumb in front of her.
Her green eyes soften and that sweet smile appears. She has a dimple on her right side. It makes her prettier.
“You’ll figure it out. And the most important thing about babies is that they need love, feeding, changing, and sleep.”
Four things. I can do four things. She makes it sound so easy but it’s a human I might now be responsible for by myself with a life that is not meant for this. It’s anything but simple or easy.
There’s a quick, loud knock at my door and our gazes swing in that direction before I return to her…
“You can get the door,” she says, reading my thoughts. “I’ve got him.”