Red, white and blue upon a birthday cake
My brother, he was born on the 4th of July
- The Killers, Sam's Town
On Nathan's eleventh birthday, he is told that he will be getting a brother. Of course, he has to wait five more months for the actual event.
During those months, the house seems busier. The guest room across the hall is converted into a nursery: the queen-sized bed exchanged for a crib, a fresh spring green rolled onto the previously coral-colored walls. The smell of paint drifts into Nathan's room and will forever remind him of waiting.
Days are spent shopping for blankets and tiny clothes and plush toys. His mother's rare smile comes more frequently, cancelling out the dour twist of his father's mouth.
Nathan lies awake at night thinking up names. Samuel. Christopher. Daniel. Nothing seems to fit right. He spends hours that he ought to be studying about the life cycles of butterflies or World War II, flipping though the book of baby names his mother bought on one of their shopping trips. Aaron. Adam. Adrian. Aidan.
There are thousands of names, but Nathan knows that only one is the right one. David. Dean. Dominic. His mother is starting to show. Jack. Jacob. John.
A summer midnight, andNathan's eyes are drooping as he scans the P's for the third time. Parker. Patrick. Paul. Peter. Nathan jerks, fully awake. Peter. Peter Petrelli. It's perfect. He scribbles it down on the cover of his Biology notebook, but the reminder isn't necessary. Nathan will never forget the name Peter.
At breakfast the next morning, Nathan tells his mother he's decided on his brother's name. Angela's fork of scrambled eggs stops halfway to her mouth and she sends him an amused glance. "His name is Peter," Nathan says, undeterred. He can feel the certainty of it like a fact, an immutable truth. If his mother decides on some horrible popular modern name like Brandon or Jason, Nathan is fully prepared to simply ignore the name on the birth certificate.
Angela purses her lips and tries out the name, "Peter." She smiles, and her eyes are brighter than Nathan has ever seen. She motions Nathan over and guides his hand to her rounded stomach. Nathan lets his hand rest there with some trepidation. It is a strangely intimate gesture, especially when the most he usually gets from his mother is a distracted kiss on the forehead. "Peter," Angela says again, and Nathan feels a kick from the baby.
"Peter," Nathan tries for himself. Another kick. He smiles.
Nathan looks forward to July 21st like it's Christmas. His mother goes into labor on July 3rd. Nathan would be pleased that his waiting is coming to an early end, but he knows it's too early. It would be so easy for something to go wrong.
Peter is born – whole and healthy, if a little small – on the 4th of July. Nathan has to miss out on the fair and the barbeques to wait in the hospital lobby, but when Peter is handed over to him, any hint of bitterness vanishes. Flashes of blue and green echo outside the window and Nathan is glad that Peter was born on the 4th of July, because his little brother may be about six years later than Nathan hoped, but Nathan feels like welcoming him with fireworks all the same.
Review? No flames, please.
