Mal Anne 1 #2
With our son wrapped up in a white blanket, Mal carried him over to me. “Come and meet your beautiful, brave, and all-round wonderful mama,” cooed Mal. “You made a baby, Pumpkin. Fucking amazing.”
“Hello, Tomas David Ericson.” I’d never smiled so hard in my life.
Nothing could have prepared me for the rush of love I felt for him.
Nothing. Little fists waved in the air, still rather annoyed about the whole being-born thing.
And his features were so tiny and perfect.
Big blue eyes gazed vaguely in my direction.
What with being used to the tiny terrors that were Lena and Jimmy’s twin girls and my own very excitable nephew, Gibson, the baby’s cry didn’t seem all that loud after all. “Hello, my baby. Hey, Tommy.”
“That’s his name?” asked Liz, taking a peek at the baby.
Mal nodded. “Tommy for the drummer from the Ramones, the musical by The Who, and Thomas Hardy, who is apparently some writer dude Anne likes but nobody else in the real world has actually heard of.”
“Hi, Tommy,” said Liz in a gentle voice. “Hey there, baby. And to think, this is the kind of amazing you can produce while being annoyed by crazy pants here the entire time. My big sister is a talented lady.”
“Puh-lease.” Mal scoffed. “I only annoyed her because it distracted her from the pain. I knew what I was doing the whole time.”
I scrunched up my nose. “No, it… Actually it did, didn’t it?”
“Huh,” said Lizzy.
“You’re welcome.” He gave me a grin, gently rocking our son in his arms. “The doctor wants to look him over. I’ll bring him back in a minute. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Having trouble writing something other than your signature?” Liz’s voice roused me from my dozed state.
“What?” Mal was leaning against the wall, a clipboard and pen in his hands. He sounded defensive. “No. It’s just that the birth certificate is an official document. I had to make sure to get the spelling right and everything. Some things you can’t rush. It’s all good.”
“Hand it over.” Liz squared off in front of him, arm outstretched.
“Dammit.” Mal scowled and handed the clipboard over.
“Godzilla Velociraptor Ericson!”
“Mal!” I shrieked.
“No, Liz, it’s pronounced Tomas David Ericson. Or Tommy for short. But it’s spelled Godzilla Velociraptor Ericson.”
Liz stalked off in search of the nurse. “Can we have a new certificate to fill out please?”
“You guys are no fun. Imagine his first day of school.”
I groaned and tried to get my exhausted brain to wake the hell up. I hadn’t meant to doze off in the first place. We had visitors, after all.
Flowers and soft toys filled just about every available surface while the members of Stage Dive and their partners filled the chairs.
The hospital room was large and luxurious, which was nice.
And it smelled divine like a florist’s shop.
All other deliveries and congratulations would have to go to our apartment in Portland’s Pearl District.
We were out of room here. As for safety, Bon and Ziggy stood guard outside the door.
“A lot of press downstairs,” warned David, the lead guitarist. His wife, Evelyn, sat on his lap, carefully holding Tommy. Both of them appeared enamored, and David’s finger looked huge wrapped in the baby’s small fist.
Having recently been fed, Tommy seemed content to give being on the outside a chance.
Or at least, the crying had stopped for now.
Since he’d arrived just after midnight, it was still the day of his birth.
We’d all gotten some much necessary sleep during the day.
Though we were both still tired. From what I’d heard and seen, however, that’s just the way things would be for a while.
Outside, the city lights stained the darkness.
“Agreed.” Mal hovered near the baby, constantly on guard. It was sweet and hot to see him all papa-bear protective in his ripped black jeans and faded long-sleeve Henley with his long blond hair tied back. “We’ll put out a statement later. Something vague.”
David nodded. “The less they know about our private lives the better.”
“Right, no posting pics of him to Instagram, Jimmy,” said Mal. “That’s not cool.”
“How are you feeling, Anne?” asked Lena, cutting off her husband’s inevitable retort.
I smiled. “Sore. Tired. But fine.”
The twins and Gibson played with coloring books and crayons on the floor.
A newborn baby wasn’t all that interesting to small children, apparently.
A kids’ TV show played quietly on a tablet set next to the trio, and juice boxes and snacks were to hand.
I couldn’t imagine Tommy being that big in a few years.
He was so small in comparison. Though he hadn’t felt small coming out.
Guess none of them did. My poor innocent vagina.
“Killer is enjoying his visit with us.” Evelyn grinned. “We left him curled up on the couch with a chew toy.”
“Thank you for that,” I said.
“Anytime.”
“My turn,” announced Lena, carefully lifting Tommy from Ev’s arms. “Hello, I’m your Aunt Lena. I have lots and lots of toys at my house. You’ll be interested in them when you’re older. Oh, he’s so light. I’d forgotten how small newborns are. And the twins were even tinier at first.”
“Do not get clucky.” Jimmy set his ankle on his other knee, watching his wife hold the baby. “I mean it, Lena.”
“Clucky? Please. You were the one suggesting another baby wouldn’t be so bad.”
“No. I suggested practicing making another baby wouldn’t be so bad.”
From his seat in the corner, Ben snorted.
Lena stuck her tongue out at her husband.
“At least when you put them in their bed at that age, they stay there.” Ben watched his son with a faint smile. “Gibby keeps trying to climb into our bed at night.”
“Do not,” said the child in question.
“Oh yes, you do. Aunty Martha said you even tried it at her and Uncle Sam’s house.”
Gibby gave his father a withering look before returning to his coloring.
The big bass player just smiled. “You and Anne have a lot of fun times ahead of you.”
“They still have the nappies, puking up sour milk, and incessant crying to go through before they hit the good stuff.” Lena stopped and sniffed the baby. “Speaking of which, time for a change of pants for you, my friend. Here you go, Mal.”
Mal’s eyes widened in alarm. “Uh, he needs to be changed? But you’re good at that. You should do it, Lena. It’ll be like bonding time.”
“Forget it, pal. You’re changing your own son’s nappy.”
“You haven’t done one yet?” asked Jimmy with a scowl.
“He hasn’t been out that long!” Mal protested, taking back his now crying son. “Sorry, Tommy. Daddy didn’t mean to raise his voice. He was just being picked on by our evil, nasty friends. Yes, he was. Poor Daddy.”
“Are you okay with him?” I asked, sitting up a bit farther. Ouches.
“I’m fine. I can do it.”
“And he will.” Ben rose from his chair, following Mal and the baby over to the change table.
“I don’t need you looking over my shoulder,” hissed Mal.
“Figure you need someone watching who has a clue.”
“Whatever.” And Mal got busy. Since the table had sides, I couldn’t see much.
Tommy’s little hands waved in the air and a not so nice smell came from his general direction.
Mal and Ben fought quietly over how to get him out of his gray-and-white stripe baby suit.
Then Mal reared back in horror. “Oh good God. My son. What have you done?”
“Black and tarlike for the first few days, then it goes more normal,” said Ben.
“Don’t try and sugarcoat it, Ben. It’s obvious that my child is the demon harbinger of the apocalypse. From the moment Anne got pregnant, we all knew this was a possible result.”
“Wait until he does a power poop right up his back.” Liz retied her long blonde hair in a low ponytail. “Those are truly special events.”
Jimmy blew out a breath. “In all honesty, some of those onesies I just threw out. There was no getting all the poop off them. It had gone everywhere. I didn’t even want to try to deal with the mess.”
“You did not. That’s terrible.” Lena laughed.
“We were surviving on next to no sleep with two very demanding baby girls. Sacrifices had to be made.”
“C’mon, Mal. Keep going,” said Ben. “You got to get the job done or his little legs are going to get cold in this air-conditioning.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Mal nudged a strand of hair out of his eyes with the back of his hand. “This is like diffusing a bomb. Please stop crying, Tommy. Daddy’s trying his hardest here. But your poop is really weird and sticky, bro. There you go, I think you’re clean now.”
“Do you need help?” I asked.
“Anne, you’re supposed to be resting.” Ev raised a brow. “He’s a big boy. He can handle it on his own.”
“He needs to learn sometime. Might as well be now,” said Ben. “That’s it, just slip the new one underneath him. No, position it a little higher. About there’ll do.”
“Brain surgery can’t even be this hard,” mumbled Mal. “Oh God, I’ve got poop on me.”
“Stop being so precious.” Lena crossed her arms, a smirk on her lips. “At least he’s not peeing on you.”
“Yet.” Ben shot her an amused glance.
Ev bit back a smile. “How many millions are your hands worth again, Mal?”
“Don’t mock me, child bride.” Mal, tongue sticking out in thought, fit the baby’s feet back into his suit. Not so easy to do since Tommy was kicking. “You just might be here facing this dark and perilous quest one day.”
“Oh, please. I already know how to change a nappy.”
“Me too,” added Dave.
“Way to have my back, man.” Mal pouted. “It’s just you, me, and Mommy, Tommy. Everyone else is against us. And…you’re done. Yes! Victory!”
“My turn.” Ben picked Tommy up off the change table, narrowing his eyes on the baby’s face. “He looks like Anne and Liz. Got the same shaped face. Very similar to Gibby when he was born.”
“And me.” Over at the basin, Mal turned on the taps and soaped up his hands. “Mostly me. Because I mean, he’s so good-looking, right? The kid is ridiculously handsome. So it’s got to be me.”
“Whatever, man. Hey, Tommy. Welcome to the world, my friend.”
“There’s enough second-generation Stage Dive babies to start a band now,” said David, arms wrapped around Ev’s waist, drawing her back against his chest.
“Nuh.” Jimmy shook his head. “Twins will probably be a duo like The White Stripes. Fierce girl-power rock ’n’ roll.”
Ben lifted a still-crying Tommy to his shoulder, positioning him carefully before rubbing his back in small circles while he did a back-and-forth movement. “Gibby will probably be a solo act. He’s not that big on sharing, and Adam is his current hero.”
“God help us all if he takes after Adam,” said Lena. “Did you hear the latest story about him from Martha? He trashed a hotel room!”
Ben frowned. “I’m going to have to have a talk to that boy.”
“Rock star’s gotta do what a rock star’s gotta do.
There’s a fine tradition of trashing hotel rooms and riding motorcycles through hotel lobbies for us to live up to.
” Hands clean, Mal started doing a slow-motion lap of the room with his hands in the air humming the tune from Rocky.
Again. “I have conquered the nappy of death and ruin. Woo-hoo.”
“Good work.” I gave him a thumbs-up. “Is Tommy hungry again, do you think?”
“With babies it’s always a guess,” answered Ben, never stopping the gentle back-and-forth rocking motion and back rubbing. “But I think, if we turn the lights down and lower our voices, he might just go to sleep.”
“Quiet voices,” whisper hissed Gibby.
Ben smiled. “That’s right.”
Since his third victory lap took him by the light switches, Mal turned off the bulk of the lights, giving the room a shadowy, intimate atmosphere.
And the swelling, amazing joyful feeling in my chest seemed so big that it might burst right on out of me Aliens style.
Messy, but potent. Just as Ben had prophesised, Tommy’s cries gradually quieted down to almost nothing at all.
A hiccup and a whimper and the baby fell asleep.
“Do you want us to leave?” asked Ev in a whisper.
I shook my head. “Not if you don’t want to.”
“You all right, Pumpkin?” Mal slid onto the bed beside me. “Looking suspiciously teary there.”
“Probably hormones,” said Liz with a smile. “Though you’ve gone through a lot in the last day and a half.”
“No.” I shook my head, wiping a tear from my eye. “I love our family. That’s all.”
Mal smiled, planting a kiss against my forehead. “We do have a pretty great one. And now with Tommy as well…”
“Yeah. It’s perfect.” I turned my head and kissed him on the lips, soft and sweet. “Absolutely perfect.”