Big shout out to catmandew for being the first follower of this story. Thank you so much! It feels so good to know that someone is actually interested in reading my writing.
Chapter 3: Pleased to Meet You
Don't get me wrong, I had heard of the doctor before. I'd even visited him several times for my own checkups. All he ever did was poke me with needles and look in my ears as if there were something interesting hiding in them. But I didn't recognize this doctor's office. The only occupants of the waiting room were women my mother's age, making me the only male present. We sat there for a long time while my mother read a magazine and I played with a little game she had bought me a while ago. At two years old, my fingers were now dexterous enough to play with a little wooden puzzle. I'd managed to take it apart on sheer luck, but needed to figure out how to put it back together.
After what seemed like ages, my mother's name, Sarah Moriarty, was called by the lady at the desk. She took my hand and we walked back into another, smaller room. It had a few chairs and a table with weird footrests. My mother took the table and instructed me to sit in one of the chairs. A lady in a white coat came in and started talking to my mother, but she used so many big words that I gave up on following the conversation and instead focused on my wooden puzzle. They babbled and yammered for a long time before the lady in the white coat addressed me specifically.
"Are you excited to be a big brother?" she asked with an obnoxious grin.
"We haven't exactly told him yet," my mother interjected.
"Oh, my bad. I assumed he'd be one of the first people to know. It's a big adjustment, not being an only child anymore."
It took me a while to process these words. Big brother? Not only child? So that would mean… my mother was pregnant? I glanced at her belly for the big bump I had learned signified pregnancy, but it was non-existent. I walked over and placed a hand to possibly feel any size difference, but it felt the same as usual.
"Silly, it's not big enough to see or feel yet," my mother giggled. "It's very tiny, but it will start to get bigger and you'll see it then."
"Oh, okay," I muttered. "Will it be a boy or a girl?"
"We don't know yet, but we'll tell you when we do."
"I hope it's a boy."
"I know you'd love to have a brother, but I know you would love your little sister just as much."
"Do you know its name?"
"Dad and I have been thinking of a couple, but we'll decide when we know if it's a boy or a girl."
"Okay," I grunted. I wasn't too keen on this whole 'little sibling' idea. I wished they had requested my approval before going ahead with this whole thing. I didn't want another ordinary child to contend with; they were so dull. Even worse, it would almost certainly want to share my things, something I simply couldn't allow. However, on the car ride home, the thought occurred to me that this new sibling might be like me. It might also be bored with simple baby toys, and we could help each other challenge our minds. It could despise sharing as much as I do, and insist on keeping its things to itself and leaving my things alone. I decided to keep an open mind about this little sibling, at least until it was born and I could figure out its personality for myself. For now, all I could do was fantasise about what it would be like to have an intellectual equal. I thought of all the puzzles we could solve, crazy adventures we could have, and insults we could hurl at all the idiots.
My mother became progressively more exhausted, and her belly grew perpetually larger as time went by. I abhorred how long I was being forced to wait. I wanted to know what my little sibling would be like, and I wanted to know immediately. But every time I asked when it would be ready, my mother annoyingly huffed: "Any day now."
"Any day?" I would respond. "Can that day be today?"
"No, I don't think today."
"What about tomorrow?"
"Probably not tomorrow either."
"What about Saturday?"
"Sure, maybe Saturday."
Saturday would come, and I'd ask if it would be today. It was never today. Always 'soon,' 'not long,' or 'before you know it.' Well, I sure knew it, and I still hadn't learned anything about my little sibling except that it liked to kick. Finally, my mother came back from the doctor's office one day and announced that it was definitely going to be a boy. At least I now had a little more information to go on.
I thought about my little brother every day. I certainly hoped he'd be smart like me, but I realized that I wasn't actually in the market for a perfect equal. I needed him to be just close enough for challenging him to be fun, but in the end, I would always come out on top. I knew it was a very specific niche to fill; nevertheless, my childish mind held on to that chance he'd be perfect.
~0~
At last, the day came when I heard my mother scream for my father to take her to the hospital. My father hurriedly stuffed me into the back of the car and we drove, my mother sweating profusely and breathing in weird rhythms. We reached the hospital, and I was told to sit in a chair and wait for my father to come get me. I expected to wait for a half an hour, tops. In reality, I mindlessly counted the ticks of the second hand and watched the man across from me eat a full-sized bag of crisps for three hours. To this day, I'm shocked I didn't pass out and asphyxiate out of boredom.
My father eventually came back into the waiting room to bring me in to see my new baby brother. He held my hand as we traipsed down the long corridor. Not because I needed security or anything, but because my father didn't want me getting distracted and running off. I had done that a couple times, but now I was far too determined to finally meet my brother to let anything snatch my attention. We entered a stark white room, and there was my mother. She clutched a small blue bundle which I assumed to contain my baby brother. I walked over and glanced at the face sticking out from beneath the blanket.
The first thing that struck me was the sheer chubbiness of his face. Had I been that fat when I was born? I sure hoped not. His closed eyes were practically invisible under his massive cheeks. However, the next thing I noticed was his resemblance to me. I'd seen my own face in a mirror and (if you added a pound of fat) it would be nearly identical to the face I now stared at with wonder.
"He looks just like you, Jim," my father said.
"Yeah," I mumbled, mesmerized. If he looked similar to me, did that improve the odds he'd act similarly too? I doubted the two traits were related, but I still couldn't help but hope with all my might.
"We decided to name him Connor," my mother informed me. She tickled Connor's cheek affectionately.
"Can I feel him too?" I asked curiously.
"Sure, but be careful."
I reached out and gently caressed his cheek as I'd seen my mother do. Connor opened his eyes, and for a moment, he met my gaze. I'd never seen another person look at me like that before, and it confused me. I assumed that, since he was just a baby, his stare was supposed to be incomprehensible. He hadn't had much time to observe how other people communicated.
"Jim, I think he likes you," my father observed. Connor had wriggled his chubby hand out of the blanket and was reaching it toward my face. I quickly ducked out of the way, not eager to get poked in the eye, and Connor started to cry.
"He just wanted to say hi to his big brother," my mother assured, gently rocking Connor to soothe him. "Jim, you should let him."
Reluctantly, I leaned in closer to allow Connor to poke my face as he pleased. I felt a surprisingly pleasant tickle on my cheek, and Connor stopped crying. This interaction greatly interested my mother, who cooed, "They're going to be the best of friends. I can just tell!"
I hadn't observed anything to hint that Connor was at all like me, but I'd only known him for five minutes. I decided to watch him closely over the next few days, ensuring that he was progressing properly.
"Come on Jim. Let's give Mum some time to rest," my father suggested, ushering me back out of the room.
"Goodbye, Connor," I said. My father and I left the room and returned home. Falling asleep that night proved more difficult than I expected. My thoughts kept circling back to Connor and what he would be like. I had waited so long for a friend I could relate to, and I couldn't stop worrying about how I would survive if he turned out to be ordinary just like all the other children. I'm not sure how I managed it with my raging thoughts, but I eventually drifted off into a dreamless sleep.
~0~
For the first few weeks, Connor didn't do much but eat, sleep, and sleep some more. He slept so much that it left dreadfully little time for observations of his mental status. First impressions were not encouraging. I definitely slept a lot when I was his age, but I wasn't this lazy. My mother assured me it was normal for newborns to sleep almost all day.
"Then why didn't I sleep so much?" I questioned.
"You were a bit of an anomaly," she replied hesitantly.
"Anomaly?" Another word I'd never heard before. I hated when they tried to confuse me like that.
"You slept less than a normal baby. By comparison, Connor seems to sleep a lot. But don't you worry, he's perfectly healthy."
Despite her comforts, I did worry. If I was an anomaly, Connor should be one too. That was the moment I began to lose hope that Connor would be anything like me. Attempting to look on the bright side, I thought of how much better I would look in the eyes of my parents if Connor was an ordinary child. With him around, I'd be even more spectacular!
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