Page 31 of Rise (Symbols of Love 1)

Before I can even start to protest, she is pulling me deeper into the living room, which I briefly note is HUGE. “Tell Simon, Henry ate thirty minutes ago, he’s had his bath, and will probably sleep in about an hour and a half.” She bends down to pick up her scarf and starts winding it around her neck.

“Wait,” I say, “you can’t leave me here alone. Where is Simon?” I look around, feeling a true sense of panic.

She doesn’t even miss a beat as she pulls on her dark blue pea coat and buttons it up. “I told you, in the shower. He tends to take a long time in there, so make yourself at home. There’s food on the stove and cold drinks in the fridge. Kyle will be back soon, too.” She picks up her purse and strides toward the door.

“Kyle? Who is that? Wait! You can’t go!” I shout while running after her. I am not above begging at this point.

“Please, I’ve never been alone with a baby. Simon didn’t know I was coming. He doesn’t really like me very much.”

She laughs, but stops at that. She looks me up and down. “I doubt that, dear.” She opens the door and calls out, “Goodnight!” before she slams it shut behind her.

Holy shit!

What the hell have I gotten myself into now? What the fuck am I going to do? Should I leave? Can I leave? I can’t leave the baby alone while Simon’s in the shower.

I walk over to the crib and look down. Ok, this should be easy enough. He looks happy enough in there. “You can do this.” I tell myself. I peer down at him and say in what I think is a confident, happy tone, “Hello, Henry,” while I give him a big smile.

Well, that must have been the wrong thing to do because as soon as I do that, his little face seems to crumble and he lets out a wail so loud I jump back.

“No, no, no, no, no,” I say and reach down to pick him up. I don’t even know how to hold him. Something about their heads, right? I put him on my shoulder and pat his back which only seems to make him cry harder.

I start walking around the room and the minute we start moving, his cries soften. Suddenly, I remember a song, my father used to sing to me when I was little. It was his version of “We Love you, Conrad” from Bye Bye Birdie, but it always made me feel better.

“We love you, Henry, oh yes we do,

We love Henry, and we’ll be true.

When you’re not with us, we feel blue.

Oh, Henry, we love you.”

I sing this over and over again and before I know it his cries have turned to little coos. I pull back and look at him, he brings his little hand up to grab my nose.

Sit down on the floor and start to chat with him. He’s got the eyes of someone who has got a story to tell.

Who knows when Simon is going to get out of the shower. With nothing but time to kill, I decide to spend some time getting acquainted with Henry.

I’ve discovered his inexhaustible tickle bone when Simon suddenly walks in the room. He stops mid-sentence when sees me. A look of utter confusion contorts his face.

I panic and move away from Henry, start to get to my feet and explain. All I can say is a useless, “Hi Simon,” and prepare myself for his wrath.

September 17, 2014

Henry’s fever had finally started to come down. For a couple of days, nothing Mercy had given him worked. The doctor said it was viral and so antibiotics weren’t an option. So we just waited, but it was horrible and his little body is struggling.

The only reason that I didn’t completely lose my shit was that his doctor didn’t seem overly worried. Henry was exposed to only God knows what substances when my sister was pregnant with him. He was born addicted to heroin and various over the counter painkillers. They have wreaked havoc on his immune system.

It’s why I chose a nanny instead of daycare for him. But he’s been doing so well I’d started to forget he’ll probably always have some challenges and restrictions children born free of addiction won’t.

The last two days have been a living nightmare. No sleep, constant updates as we waited for his fever to abate, and the little guy looked at me like he didn’t understand why I couldn’t make it all better. His fever finally broke this afternoon.

I have been working from home because Mercy is exhausted and honestly, being at work and away from him when he is so unwell was driving me nuts. I couldn’t concentrate and I just need to be close in case he needs me.

Despite that, I have been more productive over the last three days than I have been in the past two weeks. You’d think the presence of a crying baby, one no amount of singing or constant holding or feeding seems to console, would make it near impossible to get anything done. You’d be right.

But, I’m still a fuck of a lot more peaceful than I was sitting down the hall from a sexy siren named Addie, whose mere presence in the same building rendered me unable to think coherently for more than five minutes at a time.

Those staff meetings have been the worst. I’ve tried to keep my participation minimal. I only join when they let me know they need me and even then, I walk in, ask what they need, answer their questions, and leave.

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