Chapter 25
Hair, none to speak of. Eye color, unknown.
They were still shut, his face all red and puffy like he’d been out drinking the night before.
He was covered in goo and blood. Honestly, an ugly little thing.
Wren stuck by that opinion. Nothing like the freshly manicured grown-ass babies they trotted out as newborns in the movies.
But he was her ugly little thing.
When she first laid eyes on him, well, it was the closest she’d ever come to having a spiritual experience. It was almost like she could feel the cosmic scales tipping just a tad, the universe thrown off-balance for just a moment.
There was a brand-new person in the world.
A person with a name, with a personality yet to be discovered—or determined? A person who would laugh and cry and love and win and lose. A person with a future.
The magnitude of it all overwhelmed Wren for just a couple of seconds. It wasn’t exactly the rush of maternal love she had been expecting—it was grander than even that. An infinite appreciation for all life, all of the world and universe, everything.
Yeah, it sounded ridiculous even in her own head. But there it was.
There was no switch-flip moment where she suddenly felt like a mother. But whatever it was that she had felt was pretty cool. And that would do for now.
The nurses took their little boy away quickly and all the woo-woo spiritual stuff passed Wren right by as she succumbed to physical exhaustion and a little blood loss.
The medical team cleaned him up and performed their checks and tests.
Eventually, one of the nurses came over and told her that he weighed in at six pounds, two ounces.
“Is that good? Did we win?” she asked, a little woozy still.
“It’s great,” the nurse said.
Dr. Abadi even made an appearance to help stitch her up after some minor tearing.
“Eh, what’s up, Doc?” Wren said, barely awake.
“Wren, I’m focusing,” Dr. Abadi said. “So please be vewwy, vewwy quiet.”
“Did you just make a joke?”
“What, I’m not allowed?”
Wren felt as though she had accomplished something of great significance, getting this no-nonsense professional to loosen up, even just a little. When the doctor was finished, she patted Wren on the shoulder firmly. “Excellent job.” That felt even better.
Soon, Arthur came to check on her.
“You did it.” He kissed her forehead, wiping away the sweat. “You really did it. He’s perfect.”
“He needs a name.”
“There’s plenty of time for that. Just rest.”
“You need to give him a normal name. If I pick, he’ll get beat up at school.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. She didn’t have the energy to do this part.
“Whatever you want. Just choose quickly or I’m going to start calling him Xavier.”
“OK, OK. Will you choose the middle name, at least?”
“Yeah?”
“Oh yeah, go crazy,” Arthur said. “Go nuts in there. He’ll only hear it when he’s in trouble, and the wackier it is, the more humiliated he’ll be when we reprimand him.”
“Now, that I like.”
She’d need to give it a little thought, but she was pretty certain she could work with this plan.
“One more thing, speaking of names,” she said. “I don’t want to change mine, when we get married. It’s nothing against Peterson, it just doesn’t feel right.”
“OK.”
“But I also have no real connection to Morris. It’s fine, I guess. It barely feels like mine, but I also don’t want to completely let it go.”
“I’m confused. What are you saying?”
“Some people combine their last names, make a new one together.”
Arthur thought about this. “The Metersons.”
“No.”
“The Porisses.”
“No.” She laughed. “It was just an idea.”
“We’ll figure it out. Just rest. They’re already looking like they want to kick us out of here soon.”
The idea of going home filled her with dread, but she was too tired to give it oxygen. She let her eyes fall all the way closed knowing it might be her last chance for a while.
Soon they were moved to another room, a recovery room, and their son was delivered to them on what looked like a little rolling drink cart, tucked up in a blankie, sleeping peacefully. Their little baby burrito.
The nurses kept telling Wren to “get some rest,” and then kept coming in to check her vitals every seventeen minutes, flicking on all the lights, waking everyone back up. No rest was gotten.
Before long, Arthur’s parents arrived, bearing balloons and flowers, puncturing the peace and quiet in the room in a way only grandparents can.
“We came as soon as we could,” Laura said. “How are you guys holding up?”
Neal went right for the baby. “Can I pick him up?” Arthur nodded.
Laura walked straight past them and told Wren to scooch over in the bed.
She did. Arthur’s mom wedged in beside her and put her arm around Wren, stroked her hair.
Wren leaned her head on Laura’s shoulder.
It occurred to her that she would be allowed to call Laura Mom soon. Weirdly, it didn’t seem weird at all.
“What can we do to help?” Arthur’s dad asked. “Don’t be shy. Anything at all.”
Wren and Arthur looked at each other; she gave him a nod of approval.
“Well, Wren and I were talking,” Arthur said. “There is one thing that we might need.”
“Name it,” Arthur’s mom said.
Wren wondered if Arthur was going to chicken out. She knew how much he hated asking for help, and when he was forced to, how embarrassed he’d always feel. She watched his face for the telltale red cheeks and averted gaze. This time, she couldn’t find them.
“How would you guys feel about taking our car and driving it back to your place?” he said.
His dad looked puzzled. “OK…And what about the Airstream?”
Wren stepped in. “Is it as comfy as it looks?”
Roughly twenty-four hours later, they were discharged. Sent out into the world with this fragile, squishy little thing swaddled up in a blanket and told, more or less, Good luck!
“That’s it?” Wren had said in the parking lot as a hospital orderly practically yanked her wheelchair out from under her. “This feels illegal.”
One time she’d gone to urgent care for a cut and left with seven pages of painstaking instructions on wound care. But apparently having a baby required no such documentation.
“We’ll see the pediatrician tomorrow,” Arthur said. “We can ask her our questions. We just need to survive tonight.”
They arrived home and Arthur opened the door.
“You ready?” he asked.
“Why do I feel like I’m carrying a bride over the threshold? Wow, this feels like a big deal.”
She took a step into their apartment’s foyer and immediately felt like sobbing, in the happiest way she could ever recall. She could barely choke out the words:
“Welcome home, buddy.”
They’d barely made it through the doorway when a small figure came running—Ferdie.
Running. Geriatrically, yes, but running just the same.
Wren could barely believe her eyes. The little guy ran right up to Arthur and just about jumped into his arms. Arthur scooped him up and squeezed him tight, receiving a lick directly to the face for his efforts.
“Ferdie, what the shit is this?” Wren said. “Betrayal. And you.” She was looking at Arthur now, smiling like an idiot as Ferdie cleaned every bit of hospital off his cheek and ears.
“What can I say? I guess the little guy did grow on me after all.”
“Arthur, don’t lie,” she said. “You loved him from the very beginning. Now, come on. We’re home.”
She grabbed his hand and the four of them walked into the living room together, their very first moments as a family together, where they were met with—
“WELCOME HOME!”
The noise startled them. Wren felt Arthur’s arm shoot out in front of her, push her back as he leapt in front, ready to kick an intruder in the crotch. All instinct.
It was Charlie and Tristan. They were there in their living room, jumping up and down like maniacs.
“Jesus. You scared us,” Arthur said.
“Give me that nugget, right now,” Charlie said. “Oh, and also how are you feeling and whatever?”
Wren smiled and handed the bundle over. “Meet, drumroll please, Liam Ace Morrisen.”
“Ace?” Charlie asked, rocking and swaying with baby Liam, completely lost in his eyes. “As in number one? First? First of many? And who the hell is Morrisen?”
“Just something we’re trying on,” Wren said. She took a look around. Home looked…different. There were distinct vacuum lines in the carpet. “Is it cleaner in here?”
“We tidied up a bit,” Tristan said. “Sorry we didn’t have time to do more. There’s a few meals in the fridge, and you should have a DoorDash gift card in your email.”
“And wine,” Charlie added. “I brought lots of wine. It’s in the kitchen.”
“In the kitchen, you say?” Wren said, already halfway there. When she got there, a glorious selection of reds and whites was spread out on the counter. She didn’t even know where to start. She wondered if she could drink them all at once.
Meanwhile, Charlie was completely transfixed by Liam, lost in his eyes.
“You OK?” Arthur asked her.
“Yeah.” Charlie sniffled. “Yeah, I’m OK.” She handed Liam gently back to Arthur and said, “But do you think I could talk to Wren alone for a second?”