Pieces of Him (7 page)

“Later,” I reply before disconnecting. I spend the rest of my time in this godforsaken hospital trying to mentally prepare myself for what the next few days are going to bring. I’ll have Xander, and I’ll have no one to help me with him. I’ll have to figure out childcare for when I go back to work. I’ll have Keri’s funeral to get through. I’ll give this a week, just a week, and then I’ll decide what to do. I’ll decide whether Xander stays or goes and whatever I decide will be final.

Max ~

It took me a solid ten minutes to figure out exactly how to get Xander secured in his car seat. Logistically, I knew what to do, but he looked so small for a seat that size. Once I figured out how to install the headrest pillow thing, it went a whole lot smoother. Marie attached the car seat to this odd-looking stroller and told me to take the bags and bring my car around front while she walked Xander out. I told her she didn’t have to do that, but she said it was hospital procedure. What she didn’t say was that normally the baby’s mother takes that walk with her.

She shows me how to secure the car seat in its base and very quickly says good-bye, turns around with her head down, and walks away. Strange. Before I change my mind, I get in the driver’s side and pull out of the hospital parking lot. My nerves are shot to shit, and I drive home going five to ten miles under the speed limit the entire time. I have no idea why I do this, but I think I’m nervous about jostling him with my crazy driving. Jesus, I’m fucking stupid. When I pull into my parking lot, I notice that Jack’s car is still there. He and Rachel must still be working. The minute I shut the car off, I’m hit with the severity of this situation. I have a baby.

What the fuck?
I ask no one in particular as I exit the car and round the hood.
This is by far the biggest disaster of my life
, I think as I pull the car seat out and head toward the building. This kid doesn’t belong with me, I know it, and I’m not sure why no one else sees it. As I make it to the entrance of the building, I spot a girl pulling a small box from a car. I’m almost positive she’s the girl from earlier, the one I almost knocked over on my way out of the building. Maybe she’s moving into the apartment across the way, where the old guy who creeped Keri out lived. I ignore her and go inside, making my way to the front door of my apartment. I’m about to put the key in the lock when the door is opened and both Jack and Rachel are standing there.

“Welcome home, Xander,” Rachel calls out with excitement. She moves forward, grabs the carrier from my hand, and pulls him into the apartment. She makes quick work of getting him out of the thing, picking him up, and snuggling him close.

“Oh, you’re just so beautiful,” she begins to coo as I come unstuck from my position, make my way inside, and drop the diaper bag on the floor. Quickly, I take notice that they cleared away the disaster zone and the apartment looks normal again. Someone even patched up the hole I punched in the wall. Then I stop dead as I take a
really good
look around.

“Jesus Christ,” I whisper looking at Jack, who’s eyeing me carefully. Then I realize that he hasn’t said a word yet. I immediately know why; it looks like a baby store threw up in my fucking apartment. “Jack …”

“Before you go nuts, a lot of this is stuff I had in the attic from when my kids were babies. It’s not as bad as it looks. The rest are gifts from Rachel and me and the guys.”

“The guys?”

“Yeah, word got out at the job site that you had a boy, and Clara started collecting money from them for gifts.”

Clara is Jack’s receptionist. She’s good, efficient, on top of everything, and always looking for a reason to do good.

“This is just a lot of shit. I don’t know what half of this is.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” Rachel pipes in walking up to me with Xander still in her arms. Jack moves away heading into the kitchen, and I turn back to Rachel. “I’ll explain.”

“Great,” I mutter trying to hide the sarcasm. She rolls her eyes and points at something in the middle of the living room.

“Play yard. This part on top is for him to sleep on for now. When he gets a little older, you can remove it and he can use the whole thing.” She points again at the corner of the room and my eyes follow. “That’s a baby swing. Sometimes it helps when they’re fussy or when he wants to be rocked, but you’re busy. You can just put him in there, and it has different speed settings. That thing on the floor next to the swing is a bouncy chair. It vibrates too.”

“Why do I need a swing and a bouncy chair?”

“You just do,” she says, as Jack comes back just in time with two beers in hand. He hands me one and takes a swig out of the other.

I take a drink, let out a sigh, and look back at Rachel.

“Okay. What else?”

“Come on.” She walks away toward my bedroom, and I follow trying to remember that this isn’t forever. If it doesn’t work out, I have options.

“This is the bassinet,” she says about the thing sitting next to my bed. “He’s a little small for the crib, plus you’ll want to keep him close for a few months so he’ll be right here when he wakes you to feed him. It’s really convenient.” She turns and walks out of the room, and I’m about to thank God that she’s finally done when she heads in the direction of the den. Cautiously, I follow her and I swear to god I get the urge to destroy the place all over again when I walk in.

“You don’t have a second bedroom, so we figured we’d turn the den into a nursery.”

That feeling of panic starts to creep in again, and I know I have to keep it in check. The last thing I want to do is snap at my boss’s wife for trying to help me, but all of this stuff makes this situation feel too fucking permanent.

“The crib, dresser, and changing table were in our attic, and we were obviously never going to use it again, so it worked out great. The changing pad and the bedding are all new. There are diapers, wipes, towels, baby wash, and lotion there.” She points at the shelves underneath the changing table. “His drawers are full of clothes and blankets. Clara went on a shopping spree. There’s a baby bathtub underneath the bathroom sink, and there are baby bottles in the kitchen.”

“Is that everything?”

“There’s also a stroller in your coat closet. Your car seat should snap right into it,” she says with a smile.

I look from Jack to her and give them a nod, and then I turn and march out of there, into my bedroom, to the sliding glass doors, and step out onto the small enclosed porch. It only takes about thirty seconds for Jack to follow me out there.

“You all right, man?”

I try to keep my composure. Remind myself that even though Jack is a good guy, he’s still my boss and I can not afford to get my ass fired by going off on him and his wife. “You said a few things.”

He nods at me then grins. “You said it yourself. Babies need a lot of shit.”

I put my beer down and lean on the railing. “You know I’m not sure if this is a permanent thing.”

“You ever try to stop a woman from shopping and decorating? I wasn’t about to wade into that. Just go with it.”

“We gotta talk about how this is going to go with work.”

“You got the week off. After that, we’ll play it by ear.”

I shake my head thinking of all the shit we have on the schedule. All the shit I have to oversee. “We’re in the middle of a job. You can’t afford to give me the whole week off.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Who are you gonna get to cover for me?”

“Me,” he says taking another pull from his beer bottle. “Use the time off, bond with your kid, and figure out childcare. Work will still be there when you get back.”

“Thanks,” I say, but it doesn’t matter how much help he’s giving me. It doesn’t matter how much shit he puts in my apartment or how much time he gives me off from work, I still feel like I’m drowning.

“He’s a good-looking boy. Looks like you,” he notes, as if the fact that he looks like me is supposed to make me feel more of a connection to him. If only it were that easy. I know I’m the problem. It’s not the kid’s fault, but I can’t change my way of thinking overnight.

“Yep.”

“All right, I’m gonna go see if I can tear Rachel away from him so that we can get out of your hair.”

“You don’t have to do that.” It comes out a little too quickly and makes me sound almost desperate when I’m not. Who am I kidding? I am fucking desperate. I don’t want to be left alone with this kid when I don’t know the first thing about what to do with him.

“You’ll be fine.” He pats me on the shoulder before going back inside. I follow him to the living room just in time to see Rachel kissing Xander’s forehead and placing him in the play yard thing.

“Max, if you need anything, please call. We’re only a ten-minute drive away,” she says looking down at him in what I can only imagine is a motherly way. I bet Keri would have looked at him in that way.

“I decided on cremation for Keri. I’m having a small service for her tomorrow night. She didn’t have any family, not a lot of friends, so I thought maybe ...”

“We’ll be there,” she says immediately. I’m grateful that she doesn’t make me ask, grateful that she’ll be there. Grateful that Keri will have a few people there to pay their last respects to her.

“Thanks.”

Once they’ve left, I feel on edge, as if I’m just sitting around and waiting for the other shoe to drop. I do my best to shake off the anxious feeling, decide to take advantage of the fact that Xander is sleeping, and take the shower that I never got to take this morning because I was too busy turning my apartment upside down. I leave the door to the bathroom cracked open, just in case, and get in the shower. I fucking needed this right now. It feels like I haven’t showered in years or been in my apartment amongst my own things. I don’t think I could have handled another day in that hospital. Granted, I came home with more than I bargained for, but I can’t do anything about it now. I’ve just worked the shampoo into my hair when I hear it… crying.

“You have got to be fucking shitting me,” I growl, rinsing the shampoo out of my hair as quickly as humanly possible. The crying gets louder, and I practically fall out of the shower in a rush to get to him. I turn the water off, do a half-ass job of drying off, and throw some sweats on. By the time I make it into the living room, the kid is screaming bloody murder.

“Jesus, kid, hang on,” I call making my way over to him to see his entire face is red from his screaming. Gently as I can, I pick him up as Marie showed me and hold him close to my chest. Instinctively, I start swaying back and forth.

“It’s okay, Xander. It’s okay,” I say quietly, and I swear he stops crying almost immediately. I walk with him to the diaper bag I threw on the floor earlier and pick it up rifling through for a bottle of formula. I prepare it like Marie showed me over and over, sit down on the couch, and offer it to him. He takes it immediately, and it feels like I’ve just won a victory. It feels like maybe things aren’t so hopeless. Maybe I can do this after all.

You love him. You just have to accept it. Take care of him, Max.

I wake up in a cold sweat, exhausted and sick of these dreams.
Fuck you, Keri. I can’t do this shit,
I think. No. Really. I can’t do it. The kid was up all night. All. Fucking. Night. By the time I’d finish feeding him, burping him, and changing him, he’d sleep thirty to forty minutes tops and I had to do it all over again. Three to four hours tops. That’s how much sleep I got last night, which is not enough. Not nearly enough because I’m not twenty anymore. I turn in the direction of the bassinet and check on Xander. I watch him as he sleeps peacefully deciding that I like him like this. He’s tolerable when he’s asleep; all the other times, he drives me crazy. I get up and blow through my morning activities as quickly as I can, trying to fit them all in before he wakes up. I use the bathroom, brush my teeth, shower, shave, and get dressed. Once I’ve gotten myself ready for this shitty day, I go out to the kitchen, make myself a cup of coffee, and get a bottle ready for Xander. I figure preparation is the key to success. With this kid, I have to anticipate his every move. I run through what I need to accomplish today … pay bills, figure out a budget for childcare, start looking for childcare, and attend Keri’s service. Like I said before, a fucking shitty day. I take one last sip from my cup, put it in the sink, and as if on cue, Xander starts crying. I let out a sigh and pick up the bottle of formula before heading to the bedroom. At least, he has enough decency to let me finish my coffee.