"You're what?"
"I'm afraid you'll have to hang on a little longer-I'm stuck at the airport," came Tomoyo's frazzled voice. "The flight's been delayed, but the good news is I should still be there in the morning. This conference took longer than I expected, so I couldn't get the flight I wanted-" Just then, there was a muffled shout in the background on her end as she cut in, "Oh, gosh-I think I'm the only one that knows CPR! Gottagoloveyou!"
He willed himself to stay calm. He just had to hold out until Tomoyo arrived, then all would be well again. Being left alone with the baby felt like a war zone without enough reinforcements. Tatsu's shriek resounded through all three rooms of the tiny apartment. Instantly Kurogane scrambled to the microwave-a jewel of a machine at an "impressive" 600 watts that never seemed to heat anything above a popcorn kernel. The bottle formula was a tad frothy when he took it out, but he was grateful it at least felt warm. Even his feet couldn't keep pace with how quickly the infantile shrieking turned to wailing. The little darling was in earnest.
"Hang on, hang on, I've got it," he soothed. The blue, tear-soaked eyes locked onto the bottle he held. It impressed Kurogane how much strength his son could muster when it came to getting food. "Just like Mom," he murmured, looking down on the infant while he suckled his dinner. "But don't tell her I said that. Don't you worry, she'll be home soon. What if we all could fly, huh, son? Then Mom could take the nearest air pocket and swoop in through the window ."
Tatsu, he found, brought out the strangest, most philosophical conversations in Kurogane-ones he never thought he would say before this six-month-old happened to him. He always saw others baby-talking with their children, but he had sworn that would never happen to him. Killed the parents' brain cells, he thought. Kids would turn out soft, he thought. Now he was amazed at how much enjoyment he got out of talking to this little human, even one that couldn't talk back yet. It didn't matter if it seemed stupid to anyone else.
He remembered pressing his ear to her stomach and feeling the fluttering kicks. From that moment on he had grown to love not only her more, but this being inside of her, too. "See, it's definitely a boy!" He had declared, laughing. Tomoyo had said it was a setup when his prediction turned out to be true. Not that she disliked little boys. She would playfully tease "After all, I married one, didn't I?"
They had almost lost Tatsu during delivery. It had been eerie how he didn't cry after he came out, even after several firm taps on the back. The only sounds were his little gasps. It had been something about the way his lungs wouldn't open correctly. Back then, both parents had experienced something of a dread they had not known before while he was placed in intensive care. Finally, after two weeks, he was allowed to go home. Kurogane couldn't say he loved all the howling his son did now, but, at the same time, he did.
Kurogane noticed Tatsu eyeing a glimmer of light bouncing across the ceiling. This evidently amused the child more than drinking the rest of his formula, so Kurogane sat him in his baby seat at the table and placed the remaining formula in the fridge. In his more naive days as a father, Tomoyo had scolded him for throwing out what was left.
No one had told him all the little things to keep straight as a spouse and, now, as a father. It seemed very unfair how no one provided classes that told how to be the perfect mate and parent all in one. In the background, Tatsu began a low wail. What now? Kurogane realized that the light, wherever it had come from, was now gone, and Tatsu wanted it back. Kurogane pulled one of the hundrends of pacifiers they seemed to own from his pocket, stuck it quickly in his own mouth as his wife had instructed, then attempted to get his son to do the same. As he did so, the light reappeared, and he soon found the source: while Kurogane had moved his left hand across the table, the lamplight above had caught his wedding band. Tatsu squealed in delight.
It was roughly 8:30 a.m. when Tomoyo ascended the rickety apartment steps. After fumbling to find the keys and successfully opening the door, she inhaled and exhaled sharply. It was such a relief to be back. "I'm home! So, this woman at the airport fainted all of a sudden," she began, peeking into the living room, her boot heels clacking on the tile floor. "Kuro-" her sentence was cut short by a finger on her lips. "...Just got him to sleep," Kurogane mumbled, almost too low for her to hear. He had certainly seen better days, and she recognized the tell-tale circles under his eyes as ones she had worn many a night with the infant around.
"You did well pulling an all-nighter with him," she praised, giving him a quick kiss. "He's one tough kid to tire out. Now, let's get some sleep fpr you." She steered him toward the bedroom and with each step he would mumble half-coherently, "I played with him...he still had energy...fed him...he wanted a book...same book...again...and again...maybe he asked me to buy him a car..." and with each utterance, she would shake her head, trying not to laugh because she felt so badly for him. Finally, she managed to get him into bed-the last thing he murmured drowsily was: "I like it better when you're home...that kid's showin' me how old I'm getting...you do...this whole parenting thing...better..."
She had sat on the bed next to him while he mumbled and turned from the book she held to answer-and saw he was already fast asleep. "You did just fine." She pulled the quilt over them both, snuggled up beside him, and continued reading.
