Chapter Thirty-One (Michael POV)
"Are you nervous?"
Jane's sudden question startles me. I turn my blind stare away from the open parenting magazine in my lap and look towards Jane who is watching me with a curious smile. "Baby? Are you okay?" she asks me, "You look pale. You don't have to go back with me if you don't want to."
That reassurance is probably the last thing I need to hear. There's really no good way to tell your pregnant girlfriend that you're suddenly having a panic attack over the prospect of becoming a father. It's especially not a good time to do so when she's minutes away from being called back for her latest pre-natal appointment. It's especially, especially not good when she invited you along thinking you'd want to share the experience with her.
And she's not wrong. I do want to share the experience with her. So much that I can barely contain the emotion threatening to burst out of me. But, I am also scared shitless. It has finally, truly hit me that we are bringing an actual human being into the world and we will be responsible for shaping its entire existence. I just nailed down a routine for myself. How the hell am I supposed to know what a baby needs?
Certainly I could consider Mateo to be my practice run into fatherhood but that's never really been the case because I've never actually been a father to him…at least, not in Jane or Rafael's eyes. Playmate, fun "uncle" and caregiver for sure but father has never been an apt description because that position was already filled by Rafael. No others need apply.
Perhaps that's the reason that I've only recently come to feel the full weight of responsibility and what it means to mold Mateo into the person that he needs to become because that had always been primarily Jane and Rafael's job. And while I've always considered it my responsibility to protect him and keep him safe, the prospect of actually parenting him, complete with teaching, guidance and discipline has never been an invitation that was handed to me. I'm not sure that it's something Jane has even considered.
Sure, I've made suggestions to Jane and I haven't been shy about voicing my opinions but I've rarely overstepped when it came to disciplining Mateo because there is a part of me that doesn't feel like it's my place. Rafael definitely seems to think so. But, as far as I'm concerned, Mateo needs a lot of discipline. He's practically crying out for it and I recognize that need acutely. Sometimes, I can see reflections of my younger self in Mateo. I can understand him perfectly because I too had been something of a problem child in my youth. But what I had needed back then hadn't been complete autonomy. Instead, I'd needed boundaries and structure to keep me safe.
Just like a traffic light can protect motorists and pedestrians alike if they obey the law, a child's respect of parental law can protect them too. I read that somewhere once and I fully believe it's true. Jane and Rafael's freehand approach of allowing Mateo to dictate his needs just isn't working for me. He's six years old and they're basically letting him drive so to speak. It's crazy!
But who am I to tell Jane and Rafael how to raise their child? They've been doing this for five years already and, until very recently, I didn't have any children of my own so my parenting advice means squat. What could I possibly tell them that they didn't already know? In fact, they could probably teach me a few things. The more I think about that, the more inadequate I feel regarding my place with Mateo and Jane's pregnancy.
The fear is all encompassing and I feel guilty that it's even there. I certainly don't want Jane to think that I have reservations about doing this with her because I don't. I want a family with her more than anything. I've spent almost a third of my lifetime dreaming about this day. But I can't keep myself from worrying about whether I'm qualified to be a father or if I'll even be good at it, though it seems far too late to obsess about that now. Jane is pregnant and the baby is coming regardless of whether or not I feel ready. The only thing I can do is try to reassure Jane, even when I don't feel reassured myself.
Unable to look her in the eyes when I bluff my way through, I rub my perspiring palms on the legs of my trousers and try my hardest to calm down. "No. I'm fine," I brazen, "Why do you ask?"
"You've been jiggling your knee for the last ten minutes," she points out dryly, "And I know you haven't read a single line in that magazine. You haven't turned the page once." I look at her sharply, somewhat unsettled to discover she read me so easily and so fast. My poker face definitely needs work. "There's no reason to be nervous, Michael." She grabs my hand and squeezes it gently. "It's just a routine, pre-natal checkup."
For her maybe. She's had a couple of visits already since she learned of the pregnancy. Not to mention the loads of experience she had while pregnant with Mateo. But this is my first OBGYN appointment ever and I have no idea what to expect. According to Jane, this checkup will be nothing out of the ordinary. She tells me that they will check her blood pressure and weight, obtain a urine sample and determine whether or not the baby is developing within the expected parameters (whatever that means) and finally, they will listen to the baby's heart.
To me, it sounds like a lot for a "routine" checkup and I'm concerned. I can't help but wonder about all of the tests and I have a million questions. What should her blood pressure be and what is considered too high or too low? What are they monitoring by checking her weight every visit? Why does she need to provide a urine sample? And how do they know how the baby is growing and developing without doing an ultrasound each time? Is growth related to the baby's heart development? Is that why they listen?
Maybe it's the investigator in me but, I need the answers. Unfortunately, asking Jane is a fruitless pursuit because she doesn't have the answers either. Nor does she seem particularly bothered by that fact either. I emit a tiny grunt of frustration. From the corner of my eye, I can see Jane squinting at me thoughtfully.
"Michael, you're not going to badger my OB with those questions, are you?"
"Well, it's not like you can help me. And, for the record, I find your use of the word 'badger' highly offensive." She growls my name. "What?" I ask, blinking at her wide-eyed, "I want to know. What's the harm in asking?"
"Is it really that important that you're willing to interrogate my OBGYN?"
"I'm not going to interrogate her, Jane. And yes, it's important to me. All of this is important to me. I've never had a baby before. I want to be prepared."
I half expect her to lose her patience with me and I wouldn't blame her if she did. I am being a little ridiculous and I know it. But far from going into a complete rant over how aggravating I am, Jane smiles at me instead. "God, I love you," she sighs, reaching up to cup my cheek with wistful affection, "And I love that you're taking this so seriously. It's really adorable." I grumble at that description but give way to smiling myself when she says, "You can ask my doctor all the questions you want."
I wonder if she regrets extending that invitation later because I do ask all the questions I want and, miraculously, Dr. Sarah Benton does not kick me out of the exam room. In fact, my endless questions don't seem to fluster her in the least. She patiently explains to me the rationale behind each procedure and test. She speaks in depth about urine protein, the risks of pre-eclampsia and associated complications as well as the significance of fundus height. Quite honestly, most of it goes over my head but the fact she is willing to humor me is enough to greatly reduce my anxiety. By the time she's ready to assess the baby's heartrate I am almost completely relaxed.
Filled with nervous excitement, I take hold of Jane's hand and hold it sandwiched between my own while Dr. Benton turns on the doppler. I watch intently as the doctor rolls something that very much resembles an upside down microphone across the surface of Jane's lower abdomen, searching and searching until she finally finds what she's been chasing. And then I hear it.
A rapid, low pitched whirring sound that fills the entire room. At first, I don't know what to make of it but then I see the smile that brightens Jane's face and I know immediately what it is. I feel my own heart expand and creep up into my throat.
"That's the heartbeat?" I ask and I don't even recognize my own voice because it's so garbled with emotion.
"That's the heartbeat," Dr. Benton confirms proudly, "Healthy and strong."
I listen closely to the sound, carefully. "Wow. It sounds so fast."
"148 beats per minute to be exact," Dr. Benton tells me.
I blink at her in stunned concern. "Is…is that okay?" I stammer, "That's not normal, is it?" I don't have an extensive medical background or even a cursory one but I do know that a normal heartrate is anywhere between 60 and 100 beats per minute. At 148, my kid is way outside of the normal range and the knowledge leaves me panicked. When I express my worry to Dr. Benton, however, her response is calm and matter-of-fact.
"You're right, Mr. Cordero. A normal heartrate is 60 to 100 beats per minute…for an adult. However, the fetal heartrate can range anywhere between 120 and 160 beats per minutes, so 148 is perfectly normal. In fact, your child won't have anything close to what you consider a 'normal' heartrate until he or she is a least 7 or 8 years old."
"Oh wow," I breathe, my head fairly pounding with all this new information, "Why is that?"
"Children have faster metabolisms. Growing requires a lot of energy, Mr. Cordero."
Jane squeezes my hand in a bid for attention. I look down at her smiling face. "Have you asked enough questions now?" she teases.
"Yeah…I think I'm satisfied."
As Jane and I walk back to my car following her appointment, I'm still giddy over everything I've learned. Dr. Benton was good enough to send me home with several pamphlets and even recommended several books I could read to prepare. Jane giggles at me in unconcealed amusement as I go on and on about each new discovery. But when I actually start researching how to parenting guides with the search tool on my phone before cranking up the car to get us out of there, she laughs at me outright.
I glance over at her in expectation. "What's so funny?"
"You are. You remind me of how I was before Mateo was born."
"I guess it's similar," I acknowledge softly, "This is my first baby after all."
Her smile falters slightly with the reminder. "I always forget you weren't there for Mateo the whole time. It always feels like you were."
"But I wasn't. I missed practically your entire pregnancy and the first 8 months of his life."
My answer causes her to drop her eyes to her lap. She nibbles her lip, a sure sign that she's thinking about something deeply. "Does…does it bother you that you missed all of that time with me?"
I'm surprised that I don't have a ready answer for the question but, that's probably because we've never discussed it before. We've talked about why I had difficulty handling the pregnancy and how I felt about her relationship with Rafael but we've never talked about whether I felt robbed of experiencing all of those new discoveries with her. Truly, this is the first time I've really thought about my feelings during that time beyond the anger and hurt I felt over the loss of our relationship.
Finally, after I've had a few moments to reflect, I answer her. "I guess there was a part of me that was sad because I wasn't able to share all of those changes with you," I admit to her, "But that's more of a hindsight realization. When I was going through it that was about the only good thing I thought had come out of our breakup."
"Because you didn't want to raise Mateo," she concludes sadly.
"Because I didn't know if I did and I didn't know what my place would be in his life," I clarify, "Rafael deserved the chance to bond with you and Mateo without me being in the way and I'm glad he had that."
Jane glances at me in surprise, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Do you really mean that, Michael?"
"I think I finally know what he was feeling back then…because that's exactly how I feel right now, about you and about our baby."
"Aww," she murmurs tearfully before leaning across to kiss me, "You have to stop saying things like that. I can't keep ripping your clothes off in public."
I laugh against her lips. "I'm not complaining."
"You shouldn't worry so much," she advises me gently, framing my face in her hands for emphasis, "I've seen you with Mateo, Michael. I know you're going to be a great father. You've got this."
"I hope so," I reply, uncertainty still tangible in my words when I pull away, "But I want to cover all of my bases. That's why I called and told my mom about the baby. I was so desperate for advice that I was even willing to put up with her disapproval to get it."
Jane blinks at me in astonishment. "You told her?" I confirm with a nod. "And how did she react?"
"With an odd mixture of elation and reserve," I answer honestly. But I clarify further when Jane frowns, plainly confused by the description of my mother's response. "I think she's happy to become a grandmother but not so happy that you're her future grandchild's mother."
"Of course."
"She thinks that I should work out a formal custody agreement with you so that we have an arrangement in place when our relationship 'goes South.' Her words, not mine."
"Wow…her confidence is our longevity as a couple is overwhelming," Jane mutters derisively, "I'm surprised she didn't suggest you sue me for full custody." I glance away quickly but not quickly enough that Jane can't read the truth on my face. "Oh my God! She did! She told you to sue me for full custody of the baby?"
"Not for the reasons you think!"
"You mean beyond thinking I'm a heinous bitch who's not fit to raise her grandchild or be with her son?"
"I just think she doesn't have much confidence in your skills as a mother," I explain hesitantly.
"What?"
"Because of Mateo and his…um…behavioral issues."
"Excuse me? Mateo is a typical six-year old boy! He just has poor impulse control."
"And children with poor impulse control become teenagers with poor impulse control who grow up into adults with poor impulse control…which is not a good thing," I reply meaningfully, "I spent my career as a police officer arresting adults just like that. What happens when he gets a girlfriend or eventually becomes a husband or a father? Do you see where I'm going with this, Jane?"
"Are you saying that you agree with your mom?" she gasps, clearly insulted, "You think I'm a bad mother? You think I've done a poor job of raising Mateo?"
"Of course not! You're an outstanding mother and I know you want the best for Mateo. But I definitely think that he could use a firmer hand. You and Rafael are far too permissive with him," I tell her.
"What's that supposed to mean? If you're talking about spanking him, that will never happen. I fail to understand how I'm supposed to teach Mateo not to hit by hitting him."
"It doesn't have to be spanking," I'm quick to reassure her. I'm finding that now that I've opened the gates, I'm not inclined to hold back a single thought at all. "Baby, I know you want what's best for Mateo but, he needs to feel the consequences of his actions, something more long-term than a lecture.
"Whether that's losing his privileges or being given extra chores, Mateo needs clear boundaries set for him," I continue sternly, "And you need to stop justifying his bad behavior. It shouldn't matter what his reasons are for acting out or even if he's justified because it's not acceptable behavior. He needs to be disciplined when he crosses the line, not excused."
"I do set boundaries for Mateo," she argues, visibly offended by my mini-tirade, "But he is still a little boy. He is only just beginning to discover the world and his place in it. I don't want to stifle his imagination and growth, Michael, and I don't want him to think that he's not allowed to feel emotion and react accordingly."
"What if you were growing a tomato?" I ask her suddenly.
As expected, she looks at me as if she thinks I've lost my mind. "What? A tomato? How is that relevant right now?"
"Well, when you're growing a tomato plant, you have to sort of fence it in so that you can direct the growth of the vine," I explain, "Otherwise, if you don't, the plant will grow everywhere and you'll have a mess on your hands."
"How do you know this stuff?"
"You know my mother is an avid gardener. So, you can guess how I spent every spring of my life until I reached middle school. The point is…do you understand how my analogy applies to Mateo?"
She nods. "You're saying that I need to 'fence' Mateo in so that I can direct his healthy growth."
"We need to do that. Exactly."
"I get what you're saying," she groans indecisively, "But I don't want him to feel boxed in, Michael."
"It's not 'boxing him in' to teach him that it's inappropriate to yell at you or disobey you because he doesn't want to do what you've asked him. He can be upset but he still has to respect you," I reason firmly, "I'm not saying that we should have a 'do as I say because I said it' approach because that doesn't work either. My dad took that approach with me and Billy and we were miserable because of it."
"So then what are you suggesting?"
"I think there's a middle ground somewhere. We just have to figure out what that is. But I think it would help him if we model the behavior we want him to emulate."
"And you're saying I haven't done that?"
"I'm saying that I don't think Mateo would feel so free to walk all over you if he didn't see that same behavior in some others." I don't mention Rafael by name but I don't need to because she knows exactly to whom I am referring. Her hackles raise immediately.
"Okay, first of all, Mateo does not 'walk all over me' and neither does Rafael for that matter!" she snaps, "Where are you even getting this?"
"I only know what I see, Jane."
"And you're basing that off one frame of time out of five years of experience without taking into account that all of us have been under the greatest stress of our lives!" she cries, "That's hardly fair when you haven't seen the whole picture!"
"So you're saying you don't see a problem with Mateo?"
"No. I don't. Why do we need to change anything?" she laments, "Mateo is fine, Michael. He hasn't been acting out so much lately and he's been less rude to you in the last couple of days. I think we're making progress."
"It's not about how he is with me," I argue, "It's doesn't feel great that he resents me but I'm a big boy. I can handle that. What I can't handle is the way he talks to you and I don't want our baby to learn that type of behavior secondhand."
I know instantly that it's the wrong thing to say but it's too late to take the words back. Jane is already pissed. "So now you're saying you think Mateo will be a bad influence?"
"That's not what I'm saying at all," I rush out, "I think Mateo is a good kid with a good heart and I love him but there are certain traits of his that I don't want affecting the baby. Right now, he mostly takes his frustration out on me and you but what happens when he gets angry with the baby? What if he lashes out or throws things at our child, Jane? What then?"
"Are you kidding me with this right now, Michael?"
"Something has to change. Mateo needs something more than 'bad weather days' to keep him in check!"
"Now you're criticizing my system?" she gasps, "With all due respect, Michael, you're not really in a position to give me advice on parenting when you don't know the first thing about it! You've been back in Mateo's life all of two minutes so please stop acting like you're the expert on my child! I will raise him how I see fit and if I want your advice then I'll ask for it!"
The outburst stings like a slap in the face. At first, I'm too stunned to speak. And then I realize that there's nothing for me to say because she has a point. I'm not a parent. I haven't been in Mateo's life very long. And, just because we're in a relationship, that doesn't mean I get to weigh in on how to raise him. She never asked me for my counsel so it was a bit presumptuous of me to offer it. She hasn't said so to me directly but, it is clearly how she feels.
"You're right. I'm sorry," I say, "Mateo is your son. It wasn't my place to say anything."
Her anger abruptly melts away into regret and I can only imagine it's because I'm not as good at masking my hurt feelings as I would have liked. "God, Michael…you know I didn't mean it like that."
At this point, I don't even want to discuss it. I finally crank the car ignition after 15 minutes of arguing. "I'll take you home."
Contrition is stamped all over her face as she regards me. "But…but I thought we were supposed to have lunch together."
"I'm not that hungry after all," I reply gruffly, shaking my head, "Besides, I have to be at work in an hour anyway."
We make the remainder of the drive in silence and the entire time I am stewing. I'm angry with myself for bringing up the subject of discipline in the first place. I should have known that it would bite me in the ass. But I'm also angry at Jane for shutting me down and for, inadvertently, confirming my worst fear. I'm never going to be anything more than a glorified babysitter in her eyes when it comes to Mateo. She's raising him and I'm merely assisting but she doesn't really want my input. There is a measure of comfort in finally knowing where she stands but it's hard to appreciate that underneath all the hurt and disappointment I'm feeling.
After I drop her off at home, rebuffing all of her attempts to reopen communication between us, I head off to work. My new partner, Ryan Sisquo, has the misfortune of having to deal with my foul mood for the better part of the afternoon and into the evening while we're out in the field. To his credit, he's a pretty even keeled guy and is seemingly unaffected by most things, most notably my surly attitude.
I suppose that comes with being in his mid to late-fifties, married for nearly 40 years with three kids and four grandkids. I know all of this, not because he told me, but because I insisted that the captain do an extensive background check before assigning him as my partner. I've been burned one too many times by Sin Rostro plants and I wasn't going to take a blind chance that Sisquo checked out. He didn't seem bothered by that, however. Honestly, Ryan Sisquo rarely seems to be bothered by much.
Sometimes his ability to remain calm in all situations really irks me and I will do things to purposely get under his skin. So far, I haven't succeeded once. Still, I recognize that his easy going nature is a good and needed contrast to my sometimes focused intensity. It's nice to have a partner who can get me out of my own head every now and again. And one who doesn't take my bullshit disposition personally.
Later that night near the end of our shift, I'm sitting at my desk looking through case files and silently brooding when a Snickers abruptly comes flying cross my desk, missing the tip of my nose by a hair. Startled, I pick up the candy bar and glance up to find Sisquo leaned against his desk, arms crossed with an irreverent smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. I frown at him.
"What the hell was that for?
He shrugs, quite unaffected by my grumpiness. "You're not you when you're hungry, Cordero."
I grunt a laugh and throw the candy aside. "Bite me, Sisquo."
"No seriously. Eat something. You've been an asshole all day and I know you didn't eat lunch or dinner. I figured you're hangry."
"I'm not hangry. I'm frustrated."
He perks up with an interested expression. "Oh yeah? Is it about this case we're working or the upcoming Sin Rostro trial?"
My connection with Sin Rostro isn't a secret to anyone in the department. They know exactly what she did to me and why and they also know how much I want to see her pay for her crimes, most especially against my brother. Really, they are just as invested in her new sentencing hearing as I am. But the prospect of Rose Solano's impending trial isn't bothering me and neither is work.
The case we were currently working is a lock for evidence and conviction is imminent. And Rose…her trial is little more than a formality at this point since there is mounds of evidence that points to her guilt. With the promise of immunity and protection on the table, there have been several witnesses who have come forward to give the lowdown on her dirty deeds. But it is the kidnapping, torture and attempted murder of a police officer that is going to ultimately undo her. She actually faces the death penalty for what she did to me since capital punishment remains legal in the state of Florida.
"It's neither," I tell my partner before returning to my work, "I just want to be left alone."
Unfortunately, Ryan Sisquo does not take the hint. "So if it's not the case and it's not Sin Rostro, then what is it?" he wonders aloud, "You having relationship issues?" There must be a flicker of betrayal on my face because he smiles and pulls up a chair close to my desk. "Tell me what's up, kid," he invites gamely, "We're partners. We should be able to tell each other everything."
"I've only known you for 32 days, Sisquo. I'm not big on trust right now."
"That's enough time to confide in someone. People do it with priests and they barely even know them."
I spare him a cursory glance as I thumb through a snack of crime scene photos. "Are you a priest?"
"Nope. But I'm a good listener."
"Will you drop it?"
"No," he replies succinctly, "You're miserable and frankly it's not pleasant being around you. We have another two hours left in our shift and if I'm going to get through it without throttling you to death, I'm going to need you to talk to me."
"Fine. If it will get you to leave me alone so I can work, I'll tell you!" I huff in exasperation, giving up all pretense at case review at that point, "My girlfriend has a son from a previous relationship and I'm trying to figure out where I fit in with them."
"You don't like the kid?"
"No. I love the kid. He's…he's everything. It's because of him that I even considered the possibility of fatherhood. But he's a handful."
"Is his dad around?"
"Yeah, he's around. He and Jane have this really relaxed parenting style and I don't think that's what Mateo needs."
"But you can't really say anything about it because he's their kid," Sisquo surmises knowingly, "I'm picking up what you're putting down, Cordero."
"Well, I did say something. Today, in fact. And it blew up in my face. Now I wish I hadn't said anything at all."
"No. It was a good thing. Keep trying," he counsels me softly.
I blink at him incredulously. "Excuse me? Didn't you hear what I just told you? It. Blew. Up."
"I did hear you. And my advice still stands. Are you interested in being right or what's best for that kid?"
"I want what's best for him. I love him like my own."
"Then keep fighting for him. If you're getting pushback from the girlfriend and the father, let them know why you're doing it," he says, "You and I have seen enough misguided teenagers run through this station after screwing up their lives to hell because their parents weren't firm enough. Don't let that happen to your kid too."
My kid. I really like the sound of that. It surprises me. And I recognize then just why Jane's outburst earlier had hurt me so much. Because I do feel like Mateo is my son. I don't want to stifle his creativity or stunt his growth anymore than she does. But I want him to be prepared for the real world and how brutal it can be. I want him to have the coping skills to deal with the sudden twists and turns that will come his way. I want him to live the best life possible because he's my child too. And when I'm suggesting discipline and correction for him, it's not because I'm panning her skills as a mother. It's because I want to help mold the person Mateo will one day become…as any father would want to.
When I leave the station house that night I have every intention of driving straight over to Jane's to tell her all of that but that plan proves to be unnecessary in the end. She's already waiting for me when I reach my car. I stop in my tracks when I see her leaning casually against my hood.
"Hey," I say softly.
"Hey," she says back, "So I was a real jerk to you before."
"No. I was the jerk. I came off judgmental and preachy and that wasn't my intention, Jane."
"No, you were right and I knew you were right. That's why I lashed out. You weren't saying anything that I hadn't already thought about myself."
"Really?"
"I guess now we know who modeled that bad behavior for Mateo," she grunts.
"I don't believe that."
"It's true. And the reason I'm so sensitive about you criticizing my parenting skills is because I do feel like I am a bad parent," she confesses emotionally, "Whatever issues Mateo is having now, that is on me. He's acting this way because of me…because I've always been too wrapped up in my own feelings."
"What are you talking about?"
"After you 'died,' it felt like I died too. I didn't care about anything. I didn't want to get out of bed or go to work or write…or be a mother. I had no interest in him at all."
I move forward to pull her against me as she starts to cry. "Cut yourself some slack, Jane. You were grieving."
She fists her hands into my jacket, holding on to me tightly as if she fears I might evaporate in her arms. "I know. And everyone tells me that Mateo is well adjusted and that period in his life didn't affect him adversely but I still wonder," she sniffles, "I look at Petra and the girls and how well behaved they are and I wonder what I'm doing wrong."
"Nothing," I whisper, "You're not doing anything wrong! You can't compare Mateo to Anna and Elsa. They're like Stepford children. It's creepy."
"Michael, stop it. I know you think Mateo is a terrible child," she sniffles, "You told me you were scared he was going to hurt the baby."
"That's not what I meant," I sigh into her hair, "I don't think that Mateo would ever do anything purposely to harm the baby but he does act out and that concerns me…but it's not for the reason you think."
Jane tips her head back to regard me with wet eyes. "It's not?"
"I'm worried about him, Jane. I know from personal experience just how much life can suck. So does Rafael. So do you," I say, "Life is tough and you can't always chuck something across the room when you're frustrated. Mateo needs to learn that."
"I know that. We always remind him to use his words."
"Yes. But there also has to be consequences when he doesn't…I mean besides storm cloud stickers."
She chokes out a teary giggle before her features crease in a stern frown. "But I don't want to spank him, Michael. That's not an option for me."
"I'm not saying that it should be," I reassure her, "But maybe we should start explaining to him why it's important for him to control his temper. It can't just be about punishment. He needs to see how his actions can affect others adversely. Sometimes, when you act out in anger, you can't fix what goes wrong with 'I'm sorry.' Believe me, I learned that truth the hard way."
"You're right. I'll work on that with him."
"We'll work on that," I correct gently, "He's my son too, you know."
"Oh, Michael…"
"I'm not trying to take Rafael's place in his life. I could never do that but…I want to be a father to him, Jane. If we're going to raise him together then let's do that. Let's raise him together. Can you agree to that?" I don't realize I'm holding my breath waiting for her answer until she speaks and, when she does, I feel silly for ever being worried in the first place.
"Yes."
"Yes?"
She cradles my face in her hands and brings me down for her kiss. "Yes."
