Two
I had crafted a list of things to expect in the back seat of the taxi. A fire, a flood, my ex boyfriend, the death of one of my plants.
Police officers weren't on the list.
Yet there were police cars outside my home. Officers in uniform in my hallway, talking into radios, taking notes.
"I'm sorry love. You can't come in," an officer stops me as I try to step over the threshold.
"I live here," I want to smack him.
"Is there somewhere else you can stay?" He looks down at me.
"What happened?" I demand.
"We can't disclose," he begins.
"Bella," his voice sounds relieved, but there's a desperation in it that I've never heard before.
"Please," I look at the officer.
He gives me a nod, before letting me pass by.
"Oh, Edward," I round the corner of our hallway into our front sitting room.
He sits on the couch, knuckles tight in fists, resting on his bouncing knees.
"What happened?" I throw my purse down on the floor, rush to his side.
"I… I don't understand," he shakes his head.
For a moment I think I'm dreaming the tears in his eyes. But no. They're there. Sitting beside him, I wrap my arm around his shoulder, shocked as he leans down to put his head into my chest.
He cries. Hard. Body shaking as I rub his back.
"It's okay. I'm here," I sooth him, wrapping an arm around his head, letting him use me for comfort.
An officer stands in the doorway with a sympathetic expression on his face. As he approaches he's quiet, letting Edward have a moment.
He carefully takes a seat on our arm chair, waiting quietly.
"Edward," I whisper, "how can I help?"
"I didn't mean to," he shakes his head.
"Didn't mean to what?" I ask gently.
"She.. she never even told me," he sits up, looking at me.
His eyes break me. This man is broken. He's shattered before me and I don't know how I'm going to begin to glue him together again. But I will.
"I don't understand what you mean," I say.
"Tanya was pregnant," his words hit me like a fucking truck.
"What," I gasp.
"She never told me," he shakes his head, "when we broke up she knew. She would have been almost 17 weeks. She kept the knowledge of fatherhood from me and then decided to dump our two week old child on our doorstep."
My blood boils with anger.
"It's freezing," I glance at the police officer in shock.
"The baby is at the hospital," he nods, "he's okay. He suffered light hypothermia. The staff seem to have it under control. Your neighbour heard him crying. He was out there for 20 to 30 minutes at most. He was wrapped up but not securely. It could have been worse. He's very lucky guy."
"A boy," I look back at Edward, "you have a son?"
"We believe the mother gave birth without financial support. She may have been suffering postpartum depression," he explains.
"Or she wanted to interrupt his life," I shake my head, "she was… is still apparently, vindictive."
"You're suggesting she purposely hid a pregnancy to spring it on the father?" The officer looks at me.
"I'm saying I wouldn't put it past her," I shake my head, "he has a career and being made aware of a newborn child via the doorstep would certainly stress anyone out. She was never right in the head. Once I watched her take our fish out of the water."
"Bella," Edward pleads, shaking his head.
Oh. Oops. I'm meant to make it better.
"I think it's worth exploring all avenues," I look at the officer.
"We will," he nods, "the baby will spend the night in hospital. Just for monitoring."
"I want a paternity test," Edward says.
"You're within your right. But they take 8 days minimum to come back," he explains, "we'll need one for our investigation. A social worker will be in contact to make sure the baby integrates into your home comfortably."
"Wait. Here?" Edward asks shellshocked.
"It's that or foster care," he nods.
"We'll take him," I hold my hand out, "it'll be fine. We can do this until we figure this out."
"Until a paternity test proves otherwise we are under the guise it's your baby, doctor," the officer says.
"Sure," Edward nods, eyes blank.
"What's his name?" I ask looking to the officer.
"Hasn't got one," he shrugs, "she took off with him from the hospital last week two days after delivering. We've been searching for her and we'll be continuing to. Child endangerment charges are going to be added to the list."
"She stole him from the hospital," I gasp.
"Edward's name is on the birth certificate," he nods, "she hadn't given the nurse a name for the baby before fleeing prior to discharge."
"What a fuckwit of a human," I groan, "we'll do whatever we can. I'll do whatever I can. I work with children."
"You work with teenagers," Edward looks at me, "they're already fending for themselves."
"I'd argue a 16-year-old with sass is just as bad," I sigh, "but look… between the two of us we can do it."
"I've never even changed a nappy before," he looks horrified.
I have never seen him this way. He's always calm and collected. He picks me up.
"Neither have I. But YouTube exists," I say, "I'm not going to let you do this alone."
He looks me in the eye. Perhaps I recognise a tinge of hope. I let him pull me into his arms to hold, hugging me tight, as if I have the power to take it all away with an embrace.
"It's going to be okay," I repeat.
For his and my sake.
"I hope you're right," he whispers.
Me too.
"Doctor Cullen," the nurse behind the desk smiles at him.
He doesn't realise the smile is flirty. That she's undressing him. He's sort of a DILF now I guess. Can't blame her.
"Hey Sally," he looks at her, rubbing his neck, "I'm here to see… well I don't have his name. The baby that was brought in."
"Oh, he's a little darling," she gasps out, "so beautiful. Let me take you to him."
"At least he's cute," I say to Edward as we follow the nurse.
He reaches for my hand. I let him hold it, our fingers laced together tight.
I run my thumb across the back of his knuckles in quiet support.
"We got this," I say to him as we stop outside a door, "you've got this."
He nods at me… unconvincingly. But when we step into the room and Sally leads us to the cradle both our breaths catch.
"Oh my god," I whisper, "Edward. He is gorgeous."
He has Edward's eyes. Edward's nose. His light sprinkle of hair has a copper tinge. I place my bag down so I can get a closer look, completely magnetised by this small human.
"Oh he's beautiful," I rub the pad of my fingertip over his little cheek.
This child is more Edward than Tanya… thank fuck!
He's his little double. Part of me wants to cry. Part of me wants to strange his mother for ever giving up such a miracle.
"Would you like to hold him?" Sally asks.
Edward watches his son in a state of stunned silence.
"Edward. It's okay," I say again, "why don't you just start by taking his little hand."
"I can't," he looks at me as if I'm encouraging him to hold a tiger.
"May I?" I ask Sally.
"Of course," she nods.
I reach in and begin to undo his swaddle, cooing at him as I go.
"Aren't you the prettiest baby. I know what they mean by so cute I could eat you now," I speak in a high pitch baby voice.
The boy looks up at me, eyes glued to my face, lips pursed.
"I'm your aunt Bella," I say, "you have two other Aunties but I want you to remember that I am your favourite. No matter what they try to bribe you with."
Sally laughs quietly, as I free his little hands.
"I never really understood how small they are," I say, "I mean you know they're small. But it's different seeing it."
"I'm amazed daily," Sally nods.
Little soft fingers, completely unmarred by a horrifying world, take my finger. I little sway my hand so he moves with me. His feet kick, his other free hand wailing about.
"Edward, come and meet him," I look back at my roommate.
He's pale.
I suppose he has prenatal panic to catch up on.
Edward finds the button in his brain to move his feet. When he gets to my side I place a hand on his back.
"This is your daddy," I whisper to the baby, "isn't he handsome?"
The baby looks between us, lips parted.
"Hey," Edward says awkwardly.
"It's worse than a first date," I mutter, "why don't you take his hand?"
I pry my finger from his baby's grip and rub Edward's back. Encouraging him through touch.
Edward's larger hand reaches into the cradle and takes the spot I left. He studies their hands closely. Taking in every crease of skin and movement made.
"Good job," I praise him "you're doing it."
He lets out a shaky breath, a relieved smile stretching across his face.
"Hey buddy," he says, "sorry we had to meet this way."
I watch Edward's demeanour completely shift. He turns gentle and soft. Like this baby is his immediate weakness.
"I'm here," he croaks out.
"Want to hold him?" I ask.
He nods, not taking his eyes away from his son.
"Perhaps swaddle him again," Sally offers, "just so he's warm and secure."
I glance at Edward feeling as unsure as he looks.
How hard could it be?
"You know how to swaddle?" He asks me.
"Teenagers don't need that," I shake my head.
"I poke brains with knives," he looks at me, slightly fearful.
"Let me show you," Sally walks toward us, a comforting smile on her face.
She demonstrates how to tuck his small arms by his side, twisting and wrapping the blanket around his small body.
"You want it to be tight, but not too tight. It makes him feel safe. It mimics the womb," she explains, "it'll keep him calm and at night he'll sleep better."
Sally lifts the bundle of baby, placing him into Edward's arms before he can have the chance to refuse.
"There you are," Sally says, "he looks at home."
She's right.
The youngster looks relaxed, taking in his father. He doesn't stir or cry. He watches in an adorable amazement that I tend to look at Edward with.
"Hey," Edward whispers.
Less awkward this time.
"You're doing it," I gently rub Edward's arm that's holding the baby, "would you like me to take your picture? I think you might want something from this moment."
"Yeah," he nods, "please."
I fish my phone from my pocket and stand back enough to get them both in the frame. I take a few pictures of Edward smiling ever so slightly.
"Can you… you should be in one," he suggests.
"It's your son," I shake my head.
"The past 12 hours have been horrific and you've sat through each minute of it with me. Please," he says, "Sally can you please take a photo of us."
"Absolutely, doctor Cullen," she nods taking my phone.
She motions for me to stand beside my roommate. I wrap my arm around his back and place a hand beneath his arm, gently touching the baby's blanket.
His son's beautiful green eyes sweep to me, taking me in again.
"Okay smile," Sally instructs.
We do our best.
Exhausted and frazzled. But still a weird, unconventional family.
Thanks for reading!! X