51. Arsen
51
ARSEN
As I fold the muslin swaddle around my screaming infant in what must be my fifteenth attempt in the last twenty minutes, a lot of things are becoming clear.
For instance, why Laila’s under-eye circles have been practically tattooed on the last week.
Another thing becoming crystal clear is that Laila has not been tucked away peacefully in this nursery, rocking Nina and singing sweet lullabies like I imagined.
Nina is a warrior, and this bottle of milk is her sworn enemy.
I tickle the tip of the bottle against her lips, trying to coax her mouth open. “Come on,” I mutter, knowing she can’t hear me over her own screaming. “Let me help you.”
I kick a fleece blanket against the crack at the bottom of the door to try to stifle the noise. Laila was still asleep when I rolled out of bed and carried Nina to the nursery, and I’d like it to stay that way. If she wakes up and sees me fumbling with our daughter, she might remember what a deadbeat I’ve been and kick my ass to the couch.
Nina must be on her mother’s team, though, because the crying ratchets up another decibel.
“It’s okay, malyshka . Papa’s got you now.”
She looks at me, like, Who the fuck is Papa? And okay, fair enough. But our reintroduction starts now. I’m going to get this right.
“Come on.” I bounce her gently, letting a tiny bit of milk dribble onto her lip. “Just a little taste. You’ll love it.”
She bats the bottle away with her hand and twists her face away. Her cheeks are blotchy from the strain of crying.
The nursery door flies open. I assume it’s Laila coming to relieve her useless husband. Instead, I look up and see a floor-length dressing gown and fuzzy white slippers.
“Polina.”
She frowns at the scene in front of her. “Torture may suffice in your line of work, but all it’s going to do with her is wake up the whole house.”
“She’s being stubborn,” I explain miserably. “She’s hungry, but she won’t take the bottle.”
“She won’t do what’s best for her even though it’s right there in front of her face?” She hums like it’s a divine mystery. “My goodness, I can’t imagine where she gets that from.”
“You’re really gonna come in here and bust my balls at three in the morning?”
“Only because you deserve it.” She closes the door and instantly starts snapping at me, making her way across the room. “Take your shirt off.” She catches the look of confusion on my face and rolls her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself, little boy. Skin-to-skin contact is the fastest way to make her feel safe.”
I hand my screaming daughter to Polina and tug my shirt off. Then I try the cradle hold again, folding Nina against my bare chest. She’s still wailing, but the sound falters like she’s trying to determine if it’s worth continuing to make a fuss or not.
I rock her back and forth, swaying until my arms are numb and my hearing is irreparably damaged. Finally, her crying begins to taper off. Then, even more slowly, it stops.
“There you go,” I whisper, bouncing her gently. “Look at us. We did it.”
She’s staring up at me like she’s too confused to be sad.
“If you’d been with her from the beginning,” Polina butts in, “she’d already recognize your smell and your voice.”
“Are you trying to make me feel bad?”
“Do I need to?”
We both know the answer to that.
I drop into the rocking chair while Polina takes the window seat. I stare down at my daughter, running a finger along the apple of her cheek.
It feels like the first time I’ve really looked at her. The first time, fear was clouding my vision. Now, I see clearly.
She’s fucking perfect.
“I’m sorry, little one,” I whisper. “I’ve been a sorry excuse for a dad so far. But that’s going to change. I’m going to be there—for you and your mother. I promise.”
She doesn’t so much as blink as she stares up at me. It’s a beautiful moment. Her eyes, wide and clear. Her skin so pure and velvet soft.
Then she lets out a loud, piercing cry.
I sigh. “That’s the most succinct way a woman has ever told me she doesn’t believe my bullshit.”
Polina snorts with laughter and passes me the bottle I already warmed. “That’s her hungry cry.”
“Ah.” This time, when I offer it to her, she accepts it without a fuss. “How did you know that?”
“You spend enough time with her, you start to understand. If you stick around, that is.”
“I plan to.”
Polina meets my gaze. Her lips are pressed tightly together. “This is one promise you can’t afford to break, Arsen.”
“I know that,” I acknowledge, gazing down at my daughter. “It’s too important. I just… I got spooked. I never thought I’d be a father and suddenly, someone put this baby in my arms and Laila was calling her Nina Marie and it just… It all became so real. I wasn’t the man they needed. I’m still not.”
“Yeremy made you pakhan ; he didn’t make you a man. That honor belongs to your parents. Don’t forget the parts of you that belonged to them.”
“I’ll do better from now on.”
“I believe you.” She gets to her feet. “Or at least, I’d like to. But I’m going back to bed. If you need anything?—”
“I won’t.”
Her smile warms as her eyes flit from me to Nina. “Let’s hope not. It looks like you’ve got everything you need right there.”
She slips out of the room, and I spend a few silent, blissful minutes watching my daughter drink herself to sleep. I’m nodding off myself when the flash of my lockscreen snaps me out of my stupor.
Balancing her carefully with one arm, I grab my phone and read the name on my screen. Jasper. I’m tempted to flick the text away, but there’s only one reason why Jasper would text at this time of the night.
JASPER: hey bro, just wan8#ted to chock in82## haven’t heard frum you in&92 days
The desperation is etched into every typo, every misspelled word. He wants to know if he’s been forgotten.
ARSEN: I’ve been busy with my family.
JASPER: & me^&# I am fam*$ily too. I fused to b32
ARSEN: You’re drunk. We’ll have this conversation when you can write coherent sentences.
JASPER: Come part888** wit meeee
ARSEN: Sleep it off, Jasper. We’ll talk tomorrow.
I turn my phone off, ignoring the grating gnaw in the back of my head that says I should be doing more for the man who saved my life.
As my gaze turns to my daughter, though, it’s easier to ignore the gnaw. This is where I’m meant to be.
My family has to come first.
Always.