shake for breakfast. His eyes were intent on me the entire time he guzzled on the bottle. Once my shake was ready, I sat at the table and drank it as I held him. Victor jumped up on a chair and observed us.
As intently as I watched the little baby, he studied me, his blue eyes blinking slowly. It was hard to tell what with him being so tiny, but I was almost sure he had my eyes. He had a little dimple on his right cheek like I did too.
“Dude, I sure as shit wasn’t ready for you,” I said as he held one of my fingers and intently sucked away on the bottle. We both sat there quietly having our breakfast.
He was about halfway done, so I worked it out of his mouth like Avery had shown me and put him up to my shoulder to burp him. The massive sound that came out shouldn’t have come from something so tiny, and it always made me laugh.
“Good one, kiddo,” I said with a smile and brought him back down to finish the bottle.
Once he was done, I burped him again.
My head dropped forward when he puked down my shoulder and back. “Fuck,” I muttered. “I knew I forgot something.”
Avery had also shown me how to lay a burp cloth, towel, or blanket over my shoulder when I burped him to avoid the mess I now had. But I’d barely been awake when I grabbed him, and I’d forgotten.
“Let’s go get us cleaned up or we’re gonna smell like shit,” I said to him as if he actually understood a word I was saying.
Deciding to kill two birds with one stone, I stripped him out of his now puke-stained clothes and carried him into my walk-in shower. I’d learned really quick that babies were slippery, so I held him close and washed him off. Then I set him in the little bathtub hammock thingy I had in the shower for times like this and washed myself off while I watched him closely.
“Hey!” I exclaimed when a little arc of pee shot up from him and landed on my foot. Then he farted and gave me a toothless grin. He looked like my grandfather when he did that. It was impossible not to laugh.
I finished up in the shower and scooped his tiny naked butt up. After wrapping him in a towel that swallowed him, I set him on the bed, dried myself, and dressed. Then I took him to his room, put a clean outfit on him, and picked him up.
“You need a Kosinski jersey, little dude.” All he had was little pajama things to wear. Avery and the other ol’ ladies assured me this was what was best for babies, but I still thought he needed a jersey.
I called Sydney, but it went to voicemail. I tried to ignore the ache in my chest at the thought that she was blowing me off. When she didn’t answer the second call, I called my dad.
To say he was stunned would’ve been an understatement.
Isaac and I spent the day puttering around the house. Victor followed us around, still unsure of the tiny interloper but tolerating him well.
Several hours later, my phone rang. Jumping up before it woke Isaac from his nap, I hurried to stop the ringing. I made a note to put it on vibrate.
My stomach dropped when I saw it was my mother. I hadn’t talked to her since she got back from her vacation. We weren’t overly close.
“Hey, Mom,” I said.
“Alex.” By the tone of her voice, I knew she’d heard about Isaac. Shit.
“What’s up?” I tried to play off that I didn’t catch that tone of hers.
“You should’ve called me,” she said, full of disappointment. It was a tone she seemed to have with me often. Like she expected me to be a fuckup because I played hockey. I knew that was part of the reason they had split. Mom always assumed Dad was fucking around on her while he and I were traveling with my team.
“About what, Mom?” My resignation was apparent in my question, but I couldn’t disguise it. My brain and body were too tired for bullshit.
“You know what, Alex. A baby? Really? What are you going to do with a baby? You play hockey. You’re always gone. It’s not going to work.”
“Who told you? Cooper?” I hated that I was being snide with my mother, but I was at the end of