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“Get dressed, then. I won’t look.”
I can’t be bothered to argue, and I head to the closet to get changed in there. I emerge moments later and stop at the vanity to quickly tie my hair up into a bun. I settle for wearing a loose, white button-down shirt and khaki shorts, hoping to take Masen out for a walk later. Not getting out of the house during the day has made me extremely restless. For someone who is accustomed to being at work all day, this whole stay-at-home mom gig is a huge shock to the system. If you ask me who guest starred on Ellen this week, I can sadly give you every name.
“I think he is hungry.”
“He is always hungry, hence why these things keep getting bigger and bigger.”
“I noticed.”
I shoot him a sarcastic smile, then settle into my chair. Haden is watching me, like he always does, and I manage to get the baby to latch on without breast exposure. I yelp at the slight sting, then remember the Mexican hat. I use it, and instantly I feel less pain. Seems like I owe Vicky big time.
“That bad?”
“That bad . . . I mean, I’ve had them tugged before, but shit . . . this is painful.”
His mood instantly shifts and he begins to fidget with the fray of his jeans. Too much nipple and boob talk. Forgive him; he is a guy after all.
“I really need to get out of here,” I sigh, switching subjects.
He lifts his head, making eye contact. “How about we go for a walk? It’s a warm night out.”
“Sounds perfect.”
***
The walk is just what I need. The night air is warm with a slight breeze that picks up as we turn the corner. The streets are still bustling with people heading out to dinners and clubs. It’s a Friday night, and it feels so different to be pushing a baby around the streets.
An old lady is sitting alone at the bus stop. Clutching onto her purse, she peers down the street, looking out for the bus. She stops, noticing us, and smiles. I smile in return and when it’s time to walk past her, she greets us.
“What a beautiful baby!” She peeks into the stroller, admiring Masen. “I’ve got eight children and thirty-four grandkids.”
“Wow, you must have been really busy,” Haden says.
I jab him with my elbow, reading his dirty mind. He grins in return as I shake my head at him, smiling. She pulls back and something about her changes, almost as if we had touched on a sore subject. Haden and I look at each other, confused by what just happened, then turn back to face her.
“None of them are in the city. In fact, my George lives in Japan. Imagine that? Living all the way in Japan. My youngest, Maggie, visits every Christmas.”
“I’m sorry. That must be hard for you,” I tell her.
“It is. But then I see a couple like the two of you and it reminds me of when my husband Frank and I used to walk down this exact street with baby George. It was before he went to the war. I remember it like it was yesterday,” she says wistfully, clutching onto a gold necklace draped around her neck.
“We’re not actually a couple,” I correct her. Haden glares at me for clarifying that point.
“Well, you certainly look happy, the both of you. Enjoy these moments, because before you know it, you’re catching the bus to go home alone.”
The bus pulls up to the curb and the old lady waves goodbye. She had a point . . . one that kinda sticks with me. Thirty-two years of my life have passed, and now Masen is here and all I want to do is freeze time so I can cherish this moment. Life is short, and as I look over at Haden tucking Masen into his blanket, I wonder what life is all about. Love, laughter, happiness? And how does Haden fit into that equation? I have to admit, since the hormones died down, we get along much better. We are friends. We are partners for the sake of raising our son. Do I look at him in a romantic way? Not really.
But then my focus moved on to Masen. My goal each day is just to try to stay awake and feed my son. Talking with this woman about her life has caused loneliness to wash over me. I want everything she just said. Babies, a husband, and a lifetime full of happy memories. Watching the man who helped create our son pushing his stroller, it triggers the emotions I keep pushing away.
“You okay?” He stops just a few steps away from a busy restaurant blaring loud Spanish music.
“Who would have thought that you of all people would be spending your Friday night pushing a stroller?” I say, ignoring my emotions and motioning for him to continue walking.
With a sly smirk, he continues to push our son, stopping only to wait for the lights to change. “Who would have thought that Miss OCD would have forgotten the baby
bag at home? Because someone’s definitely dumped his load.”
I scowl as the whiff of his soiled nappy hits my nose. Haden turns the stroller back around as we begin our journey home again. How silly of me to think Masen could go ten minutes without pooping his pants!
