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Chapter Fifty-One
Maceo
December 11th, 1988
Maceo Cruz Tabares came barreling into the world faster than a bullet from a gun.
Nine pounds, eleven ounces, twenty-three inches long. He has a headful of coal-black curls and the deepest brown eyes I’ve ever seen. And his lungs…man, can that kid scream.
Everything happened so fast, I wasn’t able to make it to the hospital in time. It seemed like I was walking in a dream ‘till I walked into the room and saw him latch onto his madre’s breast…then everything became real.
Gabriella looked up at me with relief and happy tears running down her beautiful face. I dropped to her side, wrapping them up in my arms. I kissed her like it was the first time and she told me she loved our family and me.
My gaze fell on my son and I fell in love for the second time in my life.
He’s finally here. He’s strong, healthy, and beautiful—perfect in every way.
Gabriella wouldn’t let anyone take him from her. I had to wait ‘till she fell asleep to finally hold our child. As he slept soundly in my arms, I wept silent tears of joy.
Welcome to the world, my precious son. You are loved beyond measure.
* * *
March 11th, 1989
Gabriella was exhausted from Maceo being fussy today. I kissed her while I held our son and told her to go to bed, that I would watch over the baby tonight. His mamá needs the rest and I need this bonding time with my boy.
My boy…he’s perfect. Fussy, teething, dirty diapers, and all—he’s perfect, and he’s ours.
I don’t care that he doesn’t look like me. I don’t care that his eyes are the color of onyx. I don’t care how he came to be.
The only thing I care about is that he’s mine now, and what I see in him is pure, innocent, and good. When I look at him, I see his madre’s beautiful smile. It’s a smile I fought to get from his mamá through days of courting, and here he gives it to me so willingly every time he looks at me.
Maceo is a happy baby, but he’s always the happiest when I’m holding him. Gives me an ego boost knowing I’m his favorite. But I’ll never tell his mamá that.
Here in my arms, I’ll keep him safe and give him all the love in the world. He’ll never feel unwanted or unloved. And he will know that he’s my son in all the ways that matter. How could I not love him? He’s part of Gabriella, and all the good in her is in him too.
His madre and I love him so much, more than anyone in the world. The joy he has brought us in only three short months amazes me. We’re a family, and Maceo completes us. The way this child makes my wife light up when he coos at her…he has done more good in her emotional healing than I ever could. He is a light in the darkness, comfort in turmoil. He’s everything and more.
Staring at my boy in my arms right now as I write, I can see our future so clearly. I see him learning to walk and getting into mischief with his curious little mind. I see myself teaching him soccer and baseball in the backyard of our home. I see him singing and dancing with his mamá in the kitchen. I see holidays with Abuelita Lucia spoiling him rotten. I see him excelling in school, sports, and life.
What he decides to be as an adult, I haven’t the slightest idea, but whatever he decides, he will excel at it. He will do good and help people, like his mamá, like his papá. How do I know this?
Porque un padre conoce a su hijo.
* * *
Because a father knows his son.
I set mypadre’sjournal on the nightstand and smile at Cruz in my arms, cooing and looking up at me with my black eyes. Was this what mypapásaw when he wrote his last passage?
Cruz breaks wind, giving me the biggest smile imaginable.
Yep, pretty sure this is exactly what my father saw—he just fluffed the passage to make it sweeter. But I probably was farting and smiling while he wrote that entry. I do a quick diaper check to make sure he hadn’t filled his drawers. Nope, we’re all clear.
Josephine is singing the sweetest song as she nurses little Easton next to me in our bed. His dark eyes are glazed over as he goes to town on hismamá’sboob.
Hate to admit it, but I’m kind of jealous of the little man. What I wouldn’t give to suck on those dusty-rose pebbles myself.
