She nodded. “She’ll only be a minute.”
The judge left and they were alone. He fidgeted anxiously. When the doors opened again, he turned. Joanne carried a mint green car seat. All he could see was soft blue blankets and a plush bumblebee dangling from the handle.
She hefted the seat onto the table and his heart stuttered to a stop. Like a sleeping cherub, his nephew rested, swathed in what looked like the softest blanket in the world.
He had dark hair like him. The lids of his eyes were so fair they seemed almost translucent at parts, darkening to deep pink by his perfect lashes. What color were his eyes? Were they brown like his? Blue? His cheeks were rosy and his mouth pursed as if sucking an invisible thumb. Suddenly his lips moved in quick suckling motions.
Shane backed up. “What’s he doing?”
The women smiled affectionately. “He’s just sucking. Babies do that in their sleep sometimes.”
The women gently touched the baby’s head and doted over him. Women were so natural with babies. Shane was suddenly terrified. He’d thought the baby would have been more…sturdy.
“While he’s asleep let’s go over some things,” Tabitha said in a soft voice. She slid him a pamphlet. “Here’s some information on SIDS—
“SIDS?”
“Sudden Infant Death Syndrome.”
His stomach bottomed out. What the fuck was that?
Tabitha, luckily, didn’t seem to notice his panic. “It briefly explains about how the baby should be put to bed, always on his back, never on his belly, where his soft spots are, and how to handle him. I’m sure after going through the reading material this weekend you’re familiar with the basics, shaken baby syndrome, testing the temperature of baths and bottles. Babies are basically fragile little eggs. So long as you’re gentle, you’ll be fine.”
The collar of his shirt seemed to be choking him. He swallowed and pulled at his neckline with his fingers.
Tabitha slid him another pamphlet. “This is about car seats. Your local police station can help you install one if you have trouble.”
She slid another brochure to him. How many fucking brochures did this woman have?
“This informs you about medical assistance Shane’s eligible for. This one’s for supplemental nutritional assistance—”
“What?” He was on overload.
“Food stamps. You’ll be eligible for a lot of government programs being that Shane isn’t legally identified as your child yet. Once we get to that stage, your income will have to be considered, but for now he qualifies automatically.”
Food stamps? They wanted him to go on welfare? Fuck that. He worked hard and supported himself for over a decade. He could do this without government aid.
“This is the help line for Care Works. They handle childcare assistance. They’d be able to help you place Shane in the right daycare for your situation…”
As she went on, Shane nodded dumbly and took each paper she handed him. He’d barely read the first book on the list. How the hell was he supposed to memorize all this other crap? These women were intimidating the shit out of him. He wanted to grab the baby and bolt. He’d figure this stuff out on his own.
Finally Tabitha reached the end of her spiel. “You have my number if you need anything. There’s also a list of numbers on the back of the DPW sheet I gave you. Katherine McAlester is the caseworker assigned to you and Baby Shane. She’ll be in touch this week at some point. She’ll be able to answer any questions you have. She’s your advocate for the next few months. Don’t be afraid to depend on her for help when it comes to doing the best we can for Shane. Good luck.”
She smiled pleasantly as she shook his hand. Joanne did the same. They left the room and he sat staring at little Shane. They made it seem so much more complicated than it really seemed to be. He had time to figure it all out. Babies slept. While the little guy was sleeping he’d read up on all this crap and be a pro in no time.
He grabbed the big baby purse Joanne had brought in and lifted the car seat. It was awkward to carry and he was terrified he’d drop him. No dropping the baby. That would be very, very bad.
Once he had a handle on the carrier, he left the room and headed to his truck. This was it. A strange self-consciousness set in. He felt like he was stealing a person.
Chapter Four
Shane hefted the baby purse on his shoulder and carefully shifted the carrier in order to open the passenger door of the truck. What seemed incredibly light moments ago was becoming awkward and heavy. What the fuck was in this purse? Bricks?
He stared at the interior of his truck. He probably should have cleaned it up before he got there. The carrier holding sleeping Shane looked pristine and clean while his truck resembled a dumpster. He swept his hand along the seat, toppling the many empty soda bottles and coffee cups to the floor.
His shoulder tingled with relief when he put the carrier down. He sat the baby purse of bricks on the pavement and stared at Shane. He was a cute little bugger. He wanted to wake him up, get to know the little guy, but figured he should get him home first.
He analyzed the seat. There was a tall handle, two red buttons, an awning, and tiny plastic hooks on the sloped bottom. It didn’t seem too complicated. As a matter of fact it seemed too simple. This was supposed to keep babies safe?
He pulled out the seatbelt and fed it through the open brackets next to the handle. That didn’t look right. He frowned, undid the buckle, and turned the seat around. That didn’t look right either.
Angling the seat, the baby squinted and cooed. The sun was in his eyes. He extended the awning. Something still wasn’t right.
“Do you need help with that?”
Shane turned and an older woman was watching him. “Uh, I’m sort of new at this,” he explained lamely.
She stepped closer and frowned at his handiwork. “A baby this age really shouldn’t be in the front.” She peeked behind his seats. It was a small S10 truck with no back seat. She sighed. “Car seats like this face backward. That way if you’re in a collision the baby’s protected. Do you have airbags? If so, you’ll have to shut them off.”
Shane opened his glove compartment and found the manual for his truck. He quickly looked in the appendix for air bag controls. Locating the button on the dash, he disengaged the airbags. “Wouldn’t the airbag protect him?”
“No. He’s too small. Airbags can crush a child of this size.”
She finagled the belt around the carrier and locked it into place, tested the security of her work, and appeared satisfied.
“I have four grandbabies and three kids. I’m an old pro at this,” she told him proudly.
“Thank you. I’m sort of out of my element here.”
“You’ll learn. He’s a cutie. What’s his name?”
“Shane.”
She smiled and ran a hand over the baby’s head. Women were always touching him. He hadn’t touched him yet, but he looked soft, too soft. He didn’t want to dent him.
He thanked the woman and stuffed the baby purse on the floor next to all the trash. He definitely had to clean out his truck.
Driving home was an ordeal. Had there always been so many maniacs on the road? People were doing forty in a twenty-five. To play it safe he drove a slow fifteen miles an hour the entire way home. It took him over an hour, but he made it there safe and sound, precious cargo still sleeping peacefully.
When he pulled up to his trailer the roller skate was out front. Exiting the truck, he carefully undid the seatbelt. Baby Shane stirred a bit, but didn’t wake. He carried him inside and placed the carrier on the floor by the coffee table.
The toilet flushed and Duce came out of the bathroom. “You’re back. How’d it go?”
Shane tipped his chin toward his nephew. “I got him.”
Duce cautiously stepped closer to the baby. In hushed tones he said, “Dude, I can’t believe they actually gave you a kid. What are you gonna do with it?”
“I’m gonna take care of him.”
They both silently stared at the baby. “He doesn’t do much,” Shane informed. “This is basically it.”
Duce reached forward with a pudgy finger. “Coochy, coochy, coo…”
Shane yanked his friend’s hand back. “Don’t touch him. You’ll wake him up.”
“Oh, sorry.”
They stared some more.
“You wanna get something to eat?” Duce finally asked.
“Uh, getting him in the truck’s sort of a pain. And I don’t think he’s supposed to be in the front. I may need to get a new car.”
“How you gonna afford a new car? You can barely afford to keep this one.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll figure something out.”
“Well, I’m starved. I’m gonna run down to Chung Luck. You want something?”
“Yeah, get me a few egg rolls.”
Duce pulled out his keys. “What about for the little guy?”
Shane frowned. “Babies don’t eat Chinese food, dumbass. They eat baby food.”
“Oh. Right.”
“Wait, stay here with him for a sec. I forgot that big bag in the truck. There’s probably food in there.”
When he returned Duce was exactly where he’d left him.
“Did he do anything?”
“No.”
Shane put the bag down and Duce snickered. “What?”
“Nice purse, dude.”
Shane grimaced at the mint green bag with ribbons around the straps. “I didn’t pick it.”
“The kid’s gonna have a complex with accessories like that. You gotta get him some manly bags.”
“I will.”
When Duce left, Shane sifted through the bag. There were tiny diapers, wipes, some sort of yoga mat thing, a bunch of creams. He laughed when he saw something called Butt Paste. That was self-explanatory.
There was something resembling a miniature turkey baster. He found clothes, itty-bitty socks, a knit cap, a few rattles, two containers of formula, some bottles, and a small booklet with doctor’s visits listed in it. He recognized the writing as his sister’s and a strange, sad nostalgia settled over him.
Was she here watching him now? “He’s beautiful, Noel,” he whispered. “I’m gonna do this. Don’t worry. I’ll figure it out and I’ll take good care of him for you. You’ll see.”
By the time Duce returned Shane was reading the bottle of formula. “What’s that?” his friend asked as he plopped down the paper takeout bag of food.
“Formula. I didn’t find any food. Do you think I should wake him to eat?”
“Uh, isn’t there some rule about never waking a sleeping baby?”
Shane shrugged. “Maybe I should make up a bottle so it’s ready when he does wake. He’s been sleeping for two hours. He’s gotta be hungry.”
Shane wished he had Internet. He wasn’t really computer savvy, but people were always talking about finding shit online. Duce was staring at him with a peculiar look. “What?”
“I think you should give him back.”
“Give him back? There is no back. I’m it.”
“He’s just all perfect and small. What if you fuck him up?”
“Hey, don’t curse in front of him. And I’m not going to mess him up. I just need some practice. I’ll figure it out.”
“Maybe you should ask someone who has kids what to do.”
Shane reached for an egg roll. “I don’t know anyone with kids. I have to take a class and I have a crap load of reading material.”
“When do you take the class? Maybe that was something you should have done beforehand.”
“It starts tomorrow night. I’ll be fine.”
They ate and zoned out to some reality TV. Baby Shane was so quiet they’d almost forgotten about him. Then Duce’s face began to twitch. “Dude, what’s that smell?”
Shane sniffed and choked. Whatever it was, it was powerful enough to make his eyes water. “Aw man, did you fart?”
“Wasn’t me.”
In unison, they slowly turned to the baby who still slept soundly. He leaned over and sniffed, almost gagging as he jerked back. “Holy crap! How could something so pintsize smell that bad?”
Duce covered his mouth and went to the window, quickly opening it to let some air in. The little guy made a tiny nook-nook sound and his miniature fist curled up by his chin in a dainty stretch. He looked like the fighting Irish.
“It’s moving,” Duce whispered as though the baby were a bomb about to detonate. And suddenly an explosion happened.
Baby Shane’s face screwed up tight, turning an unnatural shade of red. His mouth opened wide, showing nothing but pink gums, and an unholy squawk roared out of him.
They jumped and stared as the baby screamed, his little chest working in quick breaths as he drew in only enough air to force out another shrill, squawking cry.
“Do something!” Duce demanded.
Shane panicked. He reached for the book and began to thumb through, not sure what he was looking for.
“Don’t fucking read! Pick it up!” Duce snapped.
Shane tossed the book on the couch and quickly kneeled in front of the angry baby. He wailed and Shane began to freak. Was he in pain? Ugh, the smell coming off of him was burning the back of his throat. “Sweet Jesus, he stinks!”
He quickly removed the soft blanket. Shane was strapped down with some sort of five-point harness a person needed a degree in engineering to figure out. He pressed buttons and undid latches, shaking with the urgent need to make him stop screaming.
Sweat seeped through the baby’s tiny cotton jumper. The closer he got the worse the stench became.
“I thought babies were supposed to smell good?” Duce said, fanning the front door to let some air in.
“So did I. I can’t figure out how to unbuckle him!”
“Hit the red buttons on the side. You gotta get the handle out of the way.”
Sweat trickled into his eyes as he tried to dismantle the carrier. Finally he had the harness undone. “Now what?”
“Pick it up!”
“He stinks!”
Duce scowled. “So, my ear drums are about to burst. You gotta get in there. Tough it out. Take one for the team!”
Shane carefully picked up the screaming baby. He held him in front of his chest like a potted plant. He was so incredibly light. “What now?”
“I don’t know. You’re the one who’s supposed to be Mr. Mom. Comfort it. Pat its back. Sing or something!”
Shane stood and awkwardly turned, swaying slightly. He didn’t want to shake him and break him. He sang the first song that came to his mind, wincing at the lyrics about loaded guns.
Duce’s mouth fell open. “Teen Spirit? Really? How about Rock-a-bye Baby?”
“I don’t know Rock-a-bye Baby. Nirvana’s the first thing that popped into my head.”
“It’s not really appropriate, Shane,” Duce said coolly as if he were suddenly more qualified than him with babies.
“You wanna try?”
“No, I’m set.”
He continued to sing Teen Spirit and eventually Baby Shane quieted. Blue eyes stared back at him and slowly the world began to settle.
Shane was sweating and Duce looked petrified.
“Hi,” Shane said. The baby blinked. “I’m your Uncle Shane.”
“I don’t think he can talk.”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
Shane’s arms were getting tired. He glanced over to the couch. It seemed unsanitary, although whatever was causing that stink was nothing close to clean. “Grab that yellow yoga mat thing so I can lay him down.”
Duce spread the mat out on the floor. He really needed to vacuum. He ran out of vacuum bags like four months ago. He should probably start a shopping list.
Squatting down he attempted to lower the baby. “Support his head. He’s all floppy.”
Duce squatted across from him and carefully formed a bowl with his hands, cupping the back of the baby’s head as Shane lowere
d him to the mat. Once he had him safely on his back they each released a tense breath. Now what?
Shane rummaged through the baby purse for a diaper and the box of wipes. He searched for rubber gloves, but couldn’t find any. He was gonna have to go in bareback.
Taking a deep breath of shitty air, he carefully unsnapped Baby Shane’s jumper. His pink thighs were pudgy and caked with what looked like avocado.
“Aww man!” He and Duce both looked away.
“His ass exploded! I don’t think some little wet nap is gonna handle that. You may need a hose.”
Shane pulled the Velcro fastens of the diaper, which was puffy and full of warm pee. Lifting the front flap, he unveiled a puke green nightmare.
“It’s a boy,” Duce declared.
Shane rolled his eyes. The smell was ungodly. “Hand me one of those wipes.”
Duce handed him a wipe and he began to dab at the mess. Before long he had a pile of soiled wet naps on the mat and poop under his nails.
“That isn’t right. Nothing this small should be able to do that much damage,” Duce stated.
When he finally had the explosion cleaned up, he quickly stood and ran the trash outside to the can. He came back and washed his hands then returned to the floor with a clean diaper. It was then Baby Shane shivered and shot a stream of pee straight up in the air like Old Faithful and across Shane’s shirt.
Duce fell over laughing. Shane growled at him, wiped off the baby and awkwardly folded the diaper around pudgy thighs and pulled the Velcro tabs down.
“There.” He smiled triumphantly.
“If babies poop as much as I do, you’re screwed.”
“Thank you, Captain Obvious.” Shane stared down at the baby. He seemed better. He was doing a form of the Bill Cosby pudding dance. “Do you think he’s hungry?”
“I don’t know. It looked like he had a pretty serious breakfast.”
Shane rolled his eyes and reached for the book. Thumbing through, he found a section on feeding.
“During the first three months breast milk and formula will provide all the nutrition your baby needs.” He skimmed ahead. “Baby will consume more milk during each feeding as he develops.”