Chaser Page 8
"So much no," she whispered.
"Oh come on, those are Frank Zappa's daughter's names," I said. "If it's good enough for Frank--"
"Can you see her yet?"
"Not yet." I concentrated on keeping both of us calm. Nice and relaxed. Everything good. "I really think you're being too harsh on my choices of baby names."
The nurse snorted.
Jean huffed out a breath. "I don't even know who Frank Zappa is."
"He's one of the greats of American music," I said. "How can you not know Frank Zappa?"
"Don't let them take her away from me."
I nodded. "No one's taking her anywhere. Got it. Ready to hear all about the greatness of Zappa?"
She said nothing. I took that for a yes and kept talking, speaking absolute shit, on and on. It turns out that barkeeping skills actually do come in handy in real-life situations. Nonsense tumbled out of my mouth, silly trivia on Zappa's role in Deep Purple's rock anthem. On and on I went, losing track of time. There was only the professional murmuring of the medical team, Jean's worried but dazed face, and my own faux-cheerful ramblings. Two minutes might have passed, or twenty. I went on talking right up until an extremely pissed off little cry filled the air.
"Wow. She sounds mad."
"She was very happy in there," said the doctor, still busy behind the sheet. "But it was time to come out. Congratulations, Jean, you have a daughter."
"My baby," whispered Jean, her voice equal parts awe-filled and tired.
They carried the wailing baby to a table off to the side. Another midwife or doctor or whatever checked her out.
"I want to see her," said Jean, arching her neck, trying to watch everything going on.
Past the sheet, the doctor looked up. "You need to stay still, Jean."
"Here she is." The nurse arrived back and rested a tiny bundle wrapped up in a blanket beside Jean's face. "Eric, can you hold her?"
"Me?"
"You'll be all right," she insisted. "Just slip a hand under her neck to support her head and another beneath her body."
Bomb squad people probably felt this kind of fear. Oh so fucking carefully I took over control of the tiny angry person. Her little face was bright red, dark eyes accusing.
"It's okay, Ada," said Jean, tears spilling down her face. "Mommy's here."
And just like that the baby stopped crying.
"How'd you do that?" I asked in wonder.
"She knows my voice. Don't you, baby?"
"Wow." The bundle in my hands wiggled a little. But nothing else happened. "Ada, huh?"
"Yes. It was my grandmother's name."
"Sure I can't sell you on Moon Unit? Last chance."
Jean just gave me a tired smile. "Ada, meet Eric. Eric, this is Ada."
"Ada." I sighed, smiling too now. "Amazing."
CHAPTER SEVEN
"She's judging me."
Jean, lying exhausted on the hospital bed, just raised her brows. "How exactly is she judging you?"
"The look she's giving me is totally judgey." I frowned back at the baby lying in my arms. I'd been holding her on and off for hours now. Turned out, the longer I held her, the less scary it got. It was kind of silly to be afraid of something so small. Or at least, that's what I kept telling myself.
Initially, I'd been terrified that I'd drop her or damage her in some way. I'd had to remind myself it wasn't the first time I'd held something fragile and precious. The top shelf back at the Dive Bar had a bottle of cognac that was worth more than I was, and I could spin that baby over my wrist without a second thought. Not that I'd be spinning Ada, because fragile.
"To her, you are just a weird blob," said Jean. "She can barely even see you."
That might be it, unless ... "Maybe I made a bad first impression. I think I swore. That might be why she doesn't like me."
"She likes you just fine. And I think she was probably more occupied with the whole welcome to the world thing. Highly doubt her mind was on you at all." Jean released a heavy sigh. "They haven't given me nearly enough pain meds for this conversation. You know, I just had a baby taken out of me. Why are we even talking about you?"
"I'm keeping you distracted. What sounds like narcissism is actually strategic kindness." I rocked on over toward the bed. Ada liked being rocked even if she didn't like me. "What would you like to talk about?"
"I don't know."
"Are your stitches hurting? Do you want me to get a nurse?"
"No." Another sigh. "I'm just tired and feel like crap."
"Still bummed about the delivery? I know it didn't go according to plan."
"A little, but that's stupid. I mean, she's a beautiful healthy baby."
"Jean, you're allowed to feel however you want."
"Hmm."
Guess she really had cut ties with her old life. Because she hadn't called anyone, not even her folks. I couldn't help but wonder if she thought about Ada's biological dad at all. The dude was missing out on a lot. A whole new life that he'd contributed to coming into the world. Maybe it's how he would have wanted it. The idiot didn't know what he was missing out on.
"You'd been thinking about it, planning it all, for months and then it went sideways on you," I said. "The whole thing was pretty scary. It's okay not to like how it happened."
"I guess I thought I'd just be glowing with motherhood or something by now." She lifted a hand, stroking the baby's cheek. "She is beautiful."
"She really is," I agreed. "Judgey as all hell, but the gorgeous chicks always are."
Jean chuckled, then winced. "Ow. Don't make me laugh."
"I wasn't trying to make you laugh. You just have no respect for my feelings." I turned away, hiding a smile. Don't think I'd ever been so bone-weary tired, yet so wide awake. The new mother, on the other hand, had dark bruises beneath her eyes, her face pale. Not good. "Why don't you try to sleep? I'll wake you if she needs you."
"I slept a little in recovery. I'm fine."
"Remember everything the nurse talked about," I said. "You need to be careful. This is some serious sh--... stuff you just went through."
"I know."
"Then there's the pee and poop thing."
"Oh my god," said Jean, color rising to her cheeks. "Can we not talk about me using the bathroom? Can I be allowed that small amount of dignity?"
"Sorry."
Jean nodded with a frown. "There's so many rules. How the hell am I supposed to avoid stairs living in a second-floor apartment?"
"It'll be okay," I said. "We'll all help with getting whatever you need."
She didn't respond.
"Lots of other people make it through this and you can too," I said. "Look at Ada. You made her! This pretty much makes you Wonder Woman in my eyes."
Her face softened.
"Hey there." Nell swept into the room, face alight at the sight of the bundle of joy. Pat was behind her, weighed down with bags of stuff and flowers. "Here she is. Hi, you gorgeous little girl. Give her to me before you drop her, Eric."
"I'm not going to drop her." Jesus. I thought about mentioning the cognac, but decided against it. Reluctantly, I handed her over. "And her name is Ada. Watch her neck, she's floppy."
"Ada--that's a beautiful name. And I know how to hold a baby, Eric."
"Hi, Pat," said Jean, giving him a vague smile.
"Nell checked with the doctor, she's not contagious or anything," he said. "But I'll stay over here just in case I am."
"Okay. Thanks."
The man leaned against the doorway, watching us with interest. Seeing Nell and me fussing over a baby had to stir up all sorts of weird shit for him. Whatever his thoughts were, however, the bushy black beard hid them well.
Nell's face crumpled. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you."
"It's okay," said Jean. "Turns out Eric makes an excellent birth partner."
"She's the most precious thing I've ever seen," said Nell, eyes wide. Never missing a chance to change the subject once someone is saying somethi
ng nice about me.
"Isn't she beautiful?"
For a while, the two women gushed over the baby. Then Jean moved on to recounting the birth in great detail. I took the opportunity to grab a seat and close my eyes for a second. That's all it took. Next thing I knew, Pat was shaking me by the shoulder.
"Damn." I wiped a hand over my face. "Did I fall asleep?"
"You need to go home and get some rest," said Jean, busy nursing Ada. And when I say nursing, I mean breast-feeding. With breasts and everything.
I did my best to keep my eyes on her face and no lower. But oh my god, Jean's breasts. Only in my dreams had I imagined getting to see both of them, let alone a glimpse of one. And maybe it was because of the pregnancy or the body preparing for the breast-feeding or whatever, but they were as full and round as imaginable. To have my dream come true in this context was all wrong. But for fuck's sake, I was a guy who liked women. The bulk of my life I'd been taught that when given the opportunity, you looked at a woman's breasts--whether pumped-up cleavage, tantalizing half-see-through blouses, slick wet bikini tops, or (when the fates really smile on you) beautifully bare breasts. You ogled them, appreciated them, played with them, and pretty much made them your best friends. Frankly, if the girls want to show them to me, then I want to look. I'm open minded like that.
Except, not here. Not like this. This was all so very wrong.
In the end, I settled for staring at the puke-green wall over her shoulder, and tried to remember what Jean's question had been. About getting some sleep. Not about breasts or fullness or nipples at all. "Yeah, good idea."
"Are you okay to drive?"
"I can drop you back if you want," said Pat, still leaning against the door frame, tatted arms crossed.
"Nuh, I'm good."
Apparently, along with missing the initial baring of the breast, I'd also been asleep long enough for Nell to have put the flowers in a vase and for Jean to have unwrapped about a bazillion presents. Ada let out a lone wail of despair and Jean fiddled with her boob, getting the baby going again. Such pale creamy skin. I swear I didn't mean to, but it was just human nature to glance at what was going on, right?
I was going to burn in hell.
"Poor baby," cooed Jean. "It's okay."
How could it ever be considered okay to put such gorgeous breasts out on display and expect me not to look? Was I a superhero or something? No, I was not. Some days being an adult was really hard.
"You're turning red," said Nell, looking at me. "Are you sick or something?"
"I'm fine."
"Oh god." She slumped dramatically in her seat. "You're not actually embarrassed by seeing a woman breast-feeding, are you?"
Even Pat snickered.
"I am not."
Jean fussed with her top, covering up a bit more.
"Shit. Don't do that," I said. "I mean ... I didn't mean to make you self-conscious."
"Breasts are for feeding babies." She frowned at the bed, not meeting my eyes. "You do realize that that's their primary purpose in life, Eric?"
"Absolutely," I agreed.
"I'm not trying to put on a show for you here or anything."
"I did not think that for a minute." I clasped my hands together because begging occasionally could be quite manly. Or just necessary. "I'm an animal. Please forgive me."
"Idiot," mumbled Nell.
But the hard line of Jean's mouth had softened. "Go home and get some rest."
"Yeah," I said, slowly rising out of the chair. "Will do."
"Thank you for everything," she said, gazing so damn sweetly at me. Obviously tired and in pain, she was still so damn pretty propped up on the hospital bed with her baby in her arms. The most perfect thing I'd ever seen.
And my heart hurt. It felt swollen and sore like it was about to explode. Maybe I was experiencing cardiac arrest or something. If so, totally in the right place.
"Eric, are you sure you're okay to drive?" she asked.
"Yeah, yeah. Fine." I rubbed at my chest, picking up my coat. "I'll ah ... see you later."
Pat gave me a chin tip. Nell said nothing.
"I'll visit," I told Jean, delaying. Because for some reason, walking out the door seemed wrong. Like seriously the worst idea I'd ever had. Which made no sense considering some of the dumb shit I'd pulled over the years. Take the time I got pulled over for driving dangerously. Last time I let a girl go down on me while a car was in motion ever.
"I'd like that." She smiled.
"Sure."
Everyone just looked at me, waiting.
"Right," I said, nodding to myself. "Later."
I forced myself to march out of there. Out of her room and then out of the hospital. Every step taking me farther away from all the weird feelings Jean and the baby seemed to inspire. Jesus, it was no big deal. We'd just been through some shit together, that was all. Perfectly normal to feel a bond and get a bit emotional. But now it was time to go back to the real world. Back to my life. Hell, I was due back at work in eight hours.
Outside, I took a deep breath, the bitterly cold air like a slap to the face. Sure, I'd visit her. Absolutely. We were friends, after all.
And I meant it ... at the time.
CHAPTER EIGHT
"Wow." I nodded, polishing a glass. "It was intense."
"Sounds it." Joe's eyes were wide. "Alex and I have talked about having kids someday, but the thought of her going through that. Of being in so much pain." He shook his head.
"The baby was real cute though ... after they cleaned her off and everything."
My brother laughed.
"It's true," I said. "At first, she just looked like a really angry tiny red monster. Like something out of a B-grade horror film. You know those ones out of the eighties with the bad animation?"
"Maybe don't repeat that in front of anyone else, okay?"
"I won't." I scowled. Jesus. "And it was only at first. Her pint-size arms were flailing and she was screaming her head off. Once they got her cleaned up and she calmed down, she was fine."
"I'm sure little Ada appreciates your tick of approval." He smiled. "Did it help put you off sex?"
"I don't know about that. Definitely gave me a healthy respect for women, though."
"Mm."
It was near closing time, everything winding down. The Dive Bar had had a busy night. I'd slept all day, before starting my shift in the evening. Vaughan had offered to cover for me, but I knew he and Lydia had plans. Nell was back at work in the kitchen, though she'd spent half the night showing people pictures of Ada. I didn't bother looking. Seeing as the baby only had three settings, asleep, confused, and enraged, and I'd seen them all.
The last of the customers headed out into the night and Rosie locked the door. At last. I took the opportunity to pour myself and Joe a drink.
"Top shelf?" he asked. "What's the occasion?"
"We're wetting the baby's head, of course."
"Of course."
I'd no sooner rolled the first sip of whisky over my tongue than Pat knocked on the door. Taka let him in. First he headed over to say hey to Nell, then leaned against the end of the service counter, out of the way.
"Pat," I called out, setting a third glass on the bar and pouring a couple of fingers. "Come join us."
Joe shot me a look. Surprise or caution or what, I don't know.
"We're wetting the baby's head," I informed Pat once he'd taken a seat at the bar. "It's tradition."
"It's a vague excuse to drink," said Joe with a laugh.
"Whatever. Works for me." Pat raised the glass to us both. "To Ada."
We all drank. And this felt good, it felt right to try mending fences with Pat. Someone new had been born into the world today, and somehow that seemed to reset things. Anyway, after everything we'd been through over the years, it was time. No one could doubt that Nell and I had been a hell of an accident. A gigantic mistake. Whatever you wanted to call it.
"How are you holding up?" he asked, gaze serious.
A vague smile. "Eric, you lost a child last year. And last night, you watched someone else's baby being born. I'm asking if you're okay."
I blinked, surprised. "Right."
My brother had gone strangely quiet. Fair enough, this wasn't what I'd been expecting either. But I thought it over for a minute, giving the question its due.
"I'm okay." I straightened my shoulders. "It was heavy, but it's all good. I mean ... I'm glad they both got through it okay and there were no major problems or anything. That's what matters, right?"
"Sure," agreed Pat, clasping his tattooed hands together on the bar. "But if you needed a couple of days, no one would blame you."
Shit. This was not what I'd been expecting when I invited him over for a drink. It was stupid to bring Nell's miscarriage up. This was totally different. The time with Nell, I hadn't even been around. That was why it had happened, after all. I hadn't been there to pick up Nell after work, so Joe had had to drive her back home. But this time was different. This time when it mattered, I was there.
"I'm not too busy," continued Pat. "The parlor can close for a few days and I'll cover for you."
"Not a bad idea," said Joe. "I've got a few jobs on, but Vaughan's home for a while. Wouldn't be a bad time to take a break."
"Um, look..." I said, taking a deep breath. "Appreciate the thought, but I don't need any time off or anything."
Pat just shrugged.
"Sure about that?" asked Joe. "He's right. I should have thought of it myself. But no one would blame you for wanting some space. A bit of time to get your head around it. I can see if Dad could take on a couple of the jobs and join you if you wanted company."
"I don't need any fucking time off." My voice tensed, despite my best efforts to stay chilled. "Thank you, but no. I'm good."
Neither of them spoke.
"Look, can we just relax and enjoy the drink?" I asked. "Let's celebrate the arrival of little Ada. That's what I want to do right now."
"Sure." Pat took another sip. "Jean said you nearly fainted like some girl."
I snorted. "I've spent the last twenty-four hours seeing what girls can do. That's no insult, my friend."