“How is she?”
Her mother’s eyes were full of concern when she stepped aside and gestured for me to come in. “I think she could use her partner in crime.”
I could hear AJ crying the minute I stepped inside, but that crying only intensified with every step I took to her bedroom door.
I didn’t knock, because I didn’t see the point. Instead, I quietly slipped inside and closed the door behind me.
Sitting on the bed, cradling the tiny blonde head of curls, Aoife rocked and sobbed. “Mam, I can do it.”
“Hey, queen.”
Her breath hitched and she turned to look at me. “Hey, stud.”
Hands shaking, I closed the space between us and sat down on the edge of the bed beside her. “What’s happening, baby?” I coaxed, reaching for the screaming baby. “Why are you crying?”
“I’ve done everything,” she strangled out, hands hanging limply at her sides when I shifted the baby into my arms. “He’s fed, changed, and winded, and he won’t stop.”
“Okay,” I coaxed, settling him into the crook of my arm so that I could wrap my arm around her shoulders. “You’re okay.”
“I’m not, okay, Joe,” she sobbed, twisting sideways and burying her face in my neck. “I’m not okay. I can’t do this.”
“Yeah, you can,” I whispered. “All you need to do is sleep. Just lie down and get some sleep, Molloy. I’ll handle everything.”
“I need to be able to do it myself.”
“You’re already more than able,” I coaxed. “You’re just running on empty here. He needs you to sleep. That’s the best thing you can do for the both of you right now.”
Finally complying, she curled up in a small ball on her bed and closed her eyes, still sobbing as she slowly drifted to sleep.
With the baby cradled in my arms, I slipped out of her room, and padded down the stairs, moving to the kitchen to where the sterilizer was located.
“She’s been trying to nurse, but it’s not coming easily,” Trish said when I stepped into the kitchen. “It’s all getting on top of her.”
“Trish, I know you have the best of intentions, but I need you to lay off the breastfeeding talk.”
“I’m only trying to help my daughter.”
“I get that, but she’s exhausted,” I replied evenly, trying not to step on toes, but needing to take control of this shitstorm before it got out of hand. “She can’t do it right now, and quite frankly, her mental health is a hell of a lot more important to me than whether or not my son is breastfed. AJ will continue to thrive on formula, but Aoife won’t, and I need you to tell her it’s okay to do what’s right for her.”
She seemed to consider what I said before releasing a heavy sigh. “I suppose I have been championing her going down the nursing route.”
“And that’s grand,” I assured her, as I one-handedly prepped a bottle. “But she’s having a hard time getting through this, and we need to make it as easy as possible for her.”
“I agree.”
“Good.” Nodding, I exhaled a relieved sigh. “Listen, Trish, I know you and Tony don’t exactly trust me right now, and I don’t blame you, but I can’t leave the two of them here and just walk away. I can’t do it. They need me.”
“Yes, they do.”
“I want them to come and live with me.”
“Absolutely not,” her mother replied, exactly as I predicted. “You’re welcome to stay and help with the baby as much as you want, but they’re staying with me.”
Deciding now was not the time to poke the bear, I relented, content that I had planted the seed. “I’ll take him in the sitting room for a bit, if that’s okay. Let her get some sleep.”
“Of course.”
“Thanks.”
Switching on the television for background noise, I settled down on the couch with AJ resting on my shoulder.
“You’re grand,” I coaxed, patting his back to break his wind. “But you need to steady up on the drama. Your poor mam is wrecked from ya.”
He pulled his knees up and released another furious squawk.
“Yeah, I know,” I coaxed, upping the pace of the patting. “You need to take a big shit, don’t ya? Come on, big man. Get it out. Daddy’s here.”
Several minutes ticked by and then I felt a sudden flush of heat against my hand, along with an impressive five-second-long fart.
“That’s my lad,” I praised, pulling him back to look at me. “Did you leave me a present?”
Looking like butter wouldn’t melt now that his pain was gone, AJ looked right at me, squinting and grimacing, as his pouty lips formed a perfect little o-shape.
“Where does your mammy keep your nappies down here?” I muttered more to myself than him, as I searched for supplies. Finding them in a changing bag at the side of the couch, I laid him down and set to work.
“You’re a little pro at the nappy changing, aren’t you?” Trish mused, strolling into the sitting room and setting a mug of coffee on the table beside me. “None of this is new to you, is it?”
“I’ve had a lot of practice,” I replied, switching out nappies, as I cleaned and changed my baby son.
“Call me if you need anything.”
I wouldn’t.
Settling him back into the crook of my arm, I placed the teat of the bottle I had prepped to his lips and smirked when he sought it out, lips smacking wildly.
“Good job,” I whispered, snuggling him in close. “Get your chops around that.”
Thirty minutes later, AJ’s bottle was drained dry and he was out for the count on my chest.
Setting to work on a task I honestly could do blindfolded, I went through the motions of winding my son before changing his nappy again and settling him back down to continue his snooze. With the sound of soft snuffling snores filling my ears, I stared down at him, feeling my heart hammer harder with every breath I took.
Fear channeled its way up inside of me and I instantly began to worry about his future.
Would he have the same failing – the same defected genes – as his father?
As his grandfather?
Did I curse this baby?
Was he going to grow up all fucked up in the head because I was his father?
Jesus, I hoped not.
The thought of him feeling about me the way I felt about my own father made it hard to breathe. It made me want to run and drown myself in whatever I could get my hands on.
I must have sat there for a solid hour, eyes glued to his blond head, praying to whatever was up there to skip over my child and give him a fair shot at life.
A fighting chance.
Vowing more than I could ever give, I offered it all up for this kid.
Promising the sun, the moon, and the stars for life to give him all the good in exchange for whatever was left inside of me.
When he stirred a little while later, I pressed a kiss to his hair and cuddled him closer to me.
Be like her, I mentally begged my sleeping son. Please don't turn out like me.
“Joey,” Tony acknowledged later that night when I walked into the kitchen and found him and Trish sitting at the table for their nightly chat. “How’s that grandson of mine?”