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“Can I feed him?” I’m well aware of the fact that I shouldn’t have to ask whether or not I can feed my own son, but Lady is hard headed and there’s no way I’m bringing any conflict into this room.
The maid hesitates, before giving in. “You know where his bottle is.”
She’s right. It’s one of the few things I know about my son. He likes cold milk and playing with fingers; he can also say when he’s hungry—is that normal? Is he smart or should a one year old be able to say more?
“Here you go, buddy,” I say, handing him the chilled bottle of formula like you’d hand a buddy a beer.
Oscar just stares at me like I’m an alien. “You don’t want it?” I ask, confused.
“He wants you to feed him,” Lady interjects.
Despite her coldness towards me, I’m glad for her presence—without her, I’d be completely lost. I’ve been through so much in my life, but nothing has ever prepared me for this, for fatherhood. “Okay, uh, how does this work?” I pick Oscar up and sit down, setting him on my lap. I offer him the bottle again and he claps happily. A tiny chuckle escapes his little lips and a flutter of happiness grabs hold of my chest. “You like this stuff, huh?” I say, sniffing the bottle. It doesn’t smell particularly good. “I’ve never been a big fan of milk myself...”
“Boo-boo!” Oscar interrupts. He reaches out for the bottle and I draw it to his lips. He latches onto it like a starving gopher and starts sucking down the white liquid.
“Damn, you are hungry.”
“No swearing around the child!” Lady interjects from the kitchen. I flinch a little at her scolding.
“I didn’t swear,” I growl, turning around to glare at her. I may be glad for her help, but I don’t appreciate her tone. Only Cat has ever been able to speak to me so freely.
“Yes, you did,” Lady says quietly, her eyes quickly darting back to the kitchen.
“Whatever,” I grumble.
Oscar doesn’t seem to mind our little bout. He’s sucking away on his bottle, happy as a clam. Any anger in me quickly disappears.
He’s got his mother’s nose. It scrunches up as he fights back wet sniffles from his dinner—or is it breakfast? I’ve lost all track of time. I don’t bother to check my phone. Oscar’s meal going smoothly is more important than the time.
When my boy has drained the bottle, I draw it back and he lets out a hearty burp. Lady lets out an amused chuckle from behind me, and I can’t help but follow right behind her. Oscar burps again and I respond with a deep belch of my own.
“Excuse you!” Lady shouts through her giggles.
My burp seems to take Oscar by shock, but he quickly recovers and his big green eyes go wide as a big smile comes over his little face. His laugh is like heaven to my ears. My shattered heart suddenly feels so full...
I burp again and Oscar claps. His giggles fill the room, making it feel more cozy than stuffed. “You like burping, don’t you?” I tease, winding up for another one. Before I can get to it, Oscar let’s out a little one of his own.
For a quiet moment, we both sit in surprised shock, before breaking out in laughter. Oscar wriggles with joy on my lap and I slap my knee, completely hooked.
This is my kid, alright.
After some convincing, Lady finally gets me to put Oscar to bed.
I don’t want to spend a single second away from my boy ever again, but I know we could both go for some serious shut eye. A yawn escapes my lips as I place him down in his crib, and he mimics me, stretching out his stubby little arms before cuddling up with his blanket.
“Mama,” he says, so softly it nearly shatters me.
Sharp vines crawl over the lightness in my heart, puncturing the levity of this time spent alone with my son. Catalina’s still out there and in danger. Hell, I’m still in danger, too; so is Oscar. I can’t let anything happen to him; I can’t let anything more happen to his mother, but I need to keep myself safe, too.
I remember how much my father meant to me, and how much his death affected my childhood. I wouldn’t wish it on anybody, let alone my own son. My mother’s death hit me just as hard and their sudden absence created a hole in my heart that I didn’t think I could ever re-fill... until now.
“I miss her too, buddy,” I whisper. Oscar rolls onto his side and seems to immediately pass out. “Sweet dreams.”
As if on cue, a buzz comes from my pocket. I make sure to step far away from Oscar’s slumber before I answer the phone.
“What?”
“Busy?” Juan sounds awfully calm for someone who just had a meeting with Dante.
