Four
BPOV
It's 4am and it's been hours of solid crying.
Well not hours.
It feels it though.
I'd spoken to my boss. She's given me two weeks off to help me settle into baby life. I'd sent work for my students. I needed the space.
Thankfully I had a heap of annual leave built up due to the fact I usually went nowhere.
I don't bother to knock. I know he's not naked. Unfortunately.
"You okay?" I ask from the doorframe.
He stressfully stands by the bassinet, bouncing Wilbur's small crying frame. For something so tiny he can make a heck of noise.
"He just won't stop," Edward looks at me, "Is he hungry still? His diaper isn't full."
Walking into the room I move to Edward's side for a better look.
"Have you tried a bottle?" I ask.
"Yeah and I burped him like the book said," he motions to the 'what to expect when you're expecting' book I picked up.
"Oh. Take off your shirt," I gasp, patting his shoulder.
He looks at me as if I suggested murdering the infant.
"I read it somewhere once. Just trust me," I say.
He places Wilbur into my hold, and I try to soothe him. All to no avail. He continues to cry. Wailing his little lungs out.
Edward rips his shirt off and yeah… I look.
I'm human.
I've seen it before but each time it gets better. His 6 pack of hard abs, muscled chest, rippled arms. He's a men's magazine cover.
I'm suddenly jealous of this baby.
Maybe if I cry he'll hold me against that chest too.
Placing Wilbur down on his bed, I unswaddle him, unbutton his onesie and strip him down to his nappy.
His legs and arms flail about in newborn protest. Fighting my attempts to stop him from ripping the world apart with his vocal chords.
"Okay," I lift him up, positioning him on Edward's chest, ensuring his head is supported, "try to bounce him a little and shush him."
Skin to skin. Father and son.
Edward hushes his baby, slightly swaying with his cheek against his soft head.
Watching with my own tired eyes I see my idea begin to work.
The cries begin to slow and he begins to calm.
Edward looks up at me like I just discovered cake or something.
"They like skin to skin contact," I whisper, "a weird fact I read in a mother's magazine at the hairdresser once."
"I didn't even think to do this," Edward shakes his head.
"Is he awake?" I ask.
Edward turns slightly so I can look at Wilbur's face. His facial expression is relaxed, slow blinks like he's preparing to nod off.
He just needed a little bit of comfort.
"Let's wrap him back up and try to pop him into his bassinet again," I say.
Edward nods, moving toward the makeshift table we'd created out of his dresser. We work together to swaddle him - both better with that skill now!
"That's it," I smile at him, "you're a super daddy!"
"With a super roommate," he looks at me, "thank you."
"Don't mention it," I shrug.
He lifts his baby, moving toward the bassinet. When he places him down he turns the mobile with soft toys dangling above and it begins to sing a lullaby.
We sit on the bed together and watch Wilbur's eyes silently shut. As if he hadn't caused distress and disharmony in our world.
What a cute little wrecking ball.
"It'll get easier," I place my hand on his knee, "it just might get harder first."
"I don't know what I'd be without you," he admits.
"I like to think you'd be rocking in a foetal position, but that's my ego talking," I tease.
"No it's about right," he scoffs, "you go back to sleep. I'll try to quiet him quicker next time. You need your sleep."
"Edward. Together, remember? You're awake, I'm awake," I squeeze his knee, "have you told your parents?"
"How do I? How do I spring having a grandchild on them?" He looks at me.
"Let's brainstorm in the morning. Their support and help will be valuable," I say, "they'll be excited. You shouldn't worry."
"I've never hated anyone in my life, but I hate her," his fists squeeze in his lap.
My hand moves to cover one.
"You get the right to. Just don't let it consume you," I say, "shove it in her face by being the best parent ever. You already are."
"Thanks," he shifts his hand so he takes ahold of mine.
He gives it a gentle squeeze before leaning in to kiss my cheek.
"You're welcome," I nod, "I'll see you in the morning."
When I return to bed I lay awake wondering how fate had dealt him such a cruel hand. To be a parent all of a sudden without any mental preparations. To just know what to do in the blink of an eye.
They say mothers have instinct and gut knowledge with babies. But what about fathers? Clearly Wilbur's mother had no instinct. It should be against a mother instinct to exclude your child's father to only dump it on their doorstep.
Worrying about Edward had become my whole being. It's all I'd done since I walked through the door and found him on the couch. I replay it over and over.
His expression broke my heart into a million pieces.
It's overwhelming.
Almost impossible to stop the silent tears rolling down my cheeks and onto my pillowcase. I want to help in every way possible. In every way that is impossible.
Motherhood is something I'd imagined, but never thought would happen so soon. While I knew I was no mother to this child, I felt a fierce need to protect. It's like how they pair baby lions with labradors when the mumma lion rejects it.
I'm the Labrador. Wilbur's the lion.
Perhaps a more ridiculous analogy… he's the pig and I'm the spider. Here to prove to him that he's worthy of something in this world.
Terrific. Radiant. Humble. Some boy.
The coffee machine drains the pod for all it's worth. I stare shamelessly at my friend.
A burp cloth over his shoulder, shirtless and incredibly attractive, my roommate cradles his feeding baby.
Small hands wrap around his big one, as if to grip his father's hand in place. Preventing the possibility of loss.
The kid had already experienced enough of that anyway.
"You know there is a whole soccer team of mums just waiting for you out there. You'll get double orange slices," I pour milk into the mug, stirring in two sugars.
"You think I need a mini van?" He looks at me.
"Are you trying to kill them? Their poor husbands," I gasp in horror.
Placing the mug on the counter before him, he nods a thank you.
"So have you given thought to your family?" I ask.
"I have," he nods, "I know they need to know. I guess I'm nervous. They'll say I was careless and all of that junk."
"But then they'll look at his darling little face and forget about it," I shrug, "your mother and father will probably buy him his own yacht by the end of the week."
"They're not that rich," he gives me a look.
"They had lunch with Princess Anne last week," I give him a look back.
"So. That has nothing to do with money," he shakes his head.
"You think she'd dine with someone on my wage for fun? I've never even tasted caviar," I turn back to the coffee machine to begin my own.
"Wouldn't recommend it anyway," he mutters.
"I imagine it tasting kind of like tar mixed in period blood," I say.
"I mean…" he sounds disgusted, but somewhat amused, "most people say it tastes like the ocean."
Glancing back at him I prepare to say something sarcastic but I'm stopped. I stare again. He's holding the baby over his shoulder, back to me, burping him.
Not something that should stir my loins. But there's a spoon down there mixing!
His back muscles flex as his hand gently pats Wilbur's back. A light rock as he heads toward the kitchen window. Probably to examine the garden, to check the weather.
My mouth dries slightly at the sight.
Daddy.
Once the baby gives a light burp he shifts him back into a cradled position in his arms. Cooing an adorable praise. Completely unaware of how naturally he'd taken to it all.
"You're good at that," I manage to find my voice.
"I spent all of last night on YouTube," he looks back at me.
"Change of pace from the porn," I joke.
"Yeah I'll miss it," he rolls his eyes with a wide grin, "there's boobs still if you look in the right places though."
I raise an eyebrow.
"I'm kidding," he quickly clarifies, "we don't sexualise women like that, do we Bur."
"Bur?" I tilt my head, obsessed with this man.
"Remember when you forced me to see Hamilton? Well I remembered that was the guy's name. Figured it could be my nickname considering everyone else will call him Will," he shrugs.
"It's cute. I love it," I nod, "love that Hamilton left some sort of impression."
"He'll blow us all away," he grins at me.
Like he'll get a gold star for remembering lyrics too.
"Okay now. You're not auditioning," I laugh, "hurry and drink your coffee before it goes cold."
He moves toward the counter, shifting Wilbur up onto his chest, so his little head is looking over Edward's shoulder. Taking in the room around him. His new home.
"So I'll call my parents," he says after a deep gulp, "get them to come for dinner tonight. I'll deal with Alice and Emmett tomorrow."
"I think that's great. Do it in small doses," I nod, "I can find somewhere to go tonight so you guys have privacy."
"What? No!" He practically shouts.
He startles us both. Wilbur spurting out a whine, which turns into a cry.
"I mean… I want you here," he says rubbing Wilbur's back to try and soothe him.
"If you're sure," I nod, "I'll stay."
"Good," he smiles relieved, "perhaps you could even make your burgers."
"Oh you want a bit of America," I laugh, "I can make that happen."
"You're the greatest," he nods.
He turns his head to look at the crying baby, who's slowly starting to compose himself.
"I'm sorry buddy," Edward says, "it's okay."
He looks at me in sudden alarm.
"What?" I ask.
"Code brown," his nose scrunches up.
"Fire in the hole exit," I laugh loudly, moving back slowly.
"I've only done pees since we got home last night," he looks at me nervous.
"It's gotta start somewhere I guess," I feel my back hit the bench.
"What happen to villager and stuff," he looks at me pleadingly.
"I'm out of town," I shrug, "the house had termites and black mould. Oh and there was a demon haunting it."
The look I get back is extremely exasperated.
"Fine," I throw my hands up, "but I want a foot rub later."
"Done," he nods.
I head toward him and he motions with his head back to the kitchen.
"Oh don't forget tongs," he says.
For a moment I think I misheard him. But no. He's serious.
"Whatever for?" I shriek.
"To open the…" he looks at me.
"You're a doctor sir," I shake my head, "you're scared of baby poop? Haven't you had to drain abscesses and wipe away puke?"
"That was different," he leads me into the change table in his bedroom.
Despite the chaos of last night he's made his bed. The room is clean. What a man! His mother would be beaming with euphoric pride.
"How?" I grab a nappy, wipes and a cream to prevent any nappy rash.
He's not the only one who's been on YouTube.
"They were patients. That's my job and I took an oath. Besides all of that led me to the fun surgery things," he says.
"Every nappy will lead you closer to a kid who will wipe your ass when you're 93," I pat his back.
"You know… I wish you were a less sassy villager," he narrows his eyes at me as he begins to undo the snaps on Wilbur's onesie.
"The demon and termites made me crabby," I wink at him.
He unsticks the tape holding Wilbur's nappy, looking to me for mercy.
"You can do it, yes you can!" I cheer.
"How'd you get kicked off the cheer team again?" He asks, smiling.
"The cheer captain's boyfriend licked my tit for a dare," I shrug, "it was her birthday party."
For a moment he forgets he's changing a nappy. Stares at me like I'm every movie America has produced.
"Are we getting this shit under control or not," I motioned to his child.
He turns back to the baby wordlessly. Slowly he prys the nappy down and away from Wilbur's skin.
I'm able to withhold the gag. It's strong.
What had they fed this child?
"Fuck," I cover my nose.
Edward gags. Hard. Eyes water. He's so busy with his disgust he's unprepared.
"Edward," I cry out.
It's too late. His son's weapon had already fired.
I cover my mouth to hide my smile. To stop an uncontrollable shriek of laughter. Knowing if I do he'll hate me forever more than likely.
Pee covered the new father before me. His chest, his arms, his face. I'm not certain but a drop or two could have fallen into his mouth.
He looks at me, practically green.
"Oh no," I bite out.
"It's on me," he groans out.
"It's not that bad," I shake my head.
He gags again, moving backward, searching for something to wipe the piss covering his body.
"Towel," I motion to his hamper.
There's one sticking out slightly over the edge under the whicker lid.
Moving into his place before the baby I grab up a wipe, beginning to clean up the mess.
"Oh Willy," I say, "what a joy you've brought to this household."
"I need to go brush my teeth," Edward throws down the towel he'd acquired.
Wilbur kicks his little legs out in an unphased bliss.
"You're really giving him the crash course, huh?" I grab for the new nappy.
Edward returns to the room when I'm redressing Wilbur.
"That was disgusting," he mutters.
"I think there's a lot more where it came from," I look over at him.
"I hope he pees in your mouth next time," he grunts out, moving beside me to look down at his happy baby, "aim for Aunty Bella next time, buddy."
"You're already teaching him to use his penis," I nudge Edward, "a father-son bonding moment if there ever was one."
Thanks so much!
an: sooo much angst over the name hahah! I'm currently pregnant, in my second trimester. I had Wilbur as one of the names of choice. It's old fashioned and charming. Unique like Edward's son's circumstances. It's not the name I've picked but it was a strong contender. But division is always fun! ;)