Page 56 of Beautiful Small Things

Marcus - Age 30

It’s been three days and I’m fairly certain my child is possessed. For someone so beautiful and small, she has been terrorizing me between the hours of 3 and 6 am every morning. I think that’s when the demon is invoked.

Given how infants operate, Iris likes to sleep during the day, which isn’t surprising. My mornings involve doing her laundry, cleaning bottles, and making phone calls.

I’ve been dealing with lawyers and doctors. I’ve been online shopping like a rich, bored housewife. I built a crib and installed a car seat. My house looks like a daycare.

I know I need help here, but asking my parents is not the answer. They are in Europe for five weeks, but I did call them the day after Iris arrived. My father freely expressed his disappointment in my choices. My mother was warmer, offering to help find a nanny, but I would rather do this alone. She is my daughter, after all.

Colby and Callan have been checking in, and Colby’s mom brought over some food for me to put in the freezer. There’s a lasagne calling my name for dinner.

I’m so tired by the time late morning arrives, I can’t wait to nap, but as soon as I sit down on the couch, one of Iris’s eyes pops open, she makes a sour face, her tiny fist starts to shake, and I know all Hell is about to break loose. She’s either about to cry or turn into the Hulk. It could go either way.

“OK, OK, little Princess,” I say, unwrapping her from her swaddle. In three short days, I have mastered the art of swaddling. I’m a serious pro.

Her tiny legs stay bent as I lift her up. She looks like a little loaf of bread, and even though I’m absolutely exhausted, I can’t help but smile at the tiny human in front of me. It’s been such a short time, yet I can’t imagine my life without her.

I change her, get the bottle ready, and settle in for lunch when there’s a quiet knock on my door. “For fuck’s sake, Loaf,” I tell her, “We can’t catch a break.”

“Come in!” I yell, having gotten the baby to start on the bottle.

James is the last person I expect to peak around the corner. She has a huge bag in one hand and a coffee the size of my face in the other.

“Hi. I thought I’d come by and check on you guys. I brought coffee,” she says, lifting up to show me.

“Get over here and give it to me, Good Woman,” I say, causing her to laugh and visibly relax.

She hands me the coffee and sits beside me on the couch. “You seem to be doing well,” she says, smiling down at Iris.

“I’m barely holding it together,” I admit. “There’s just so much to do, and I need to go to work next week. Most people get nine months to prepare for this.”

“I imagine you’re exhausted,” she says. “That’s partly why I’m here.”

I look at her curiously. “What do you mean?”

“I’m volunteering to help you look after Iris,” she says, biting her bottom lip.

“What? Like a nanny?” I question in disbelief. James just finished college. I’m fairly certain she has plans that don’t involve getting puked on every day.

“Yes, like a nanny, Marcus,” she says in frustration.

“Don’t you have a job lined up?” I inquire.

“Sure don’t,” she answers flatly. “I have a degree in business, and I could care less about business. I always thought I’d be a dancer, so I never considered anything else.”

“Are you giving up dancing completely?” I ask. Due to injuries, I know dancing has been sporadic over the past few years.

She shakes her head. “Not at all. I’ve applied to some dance companies, but it could take months to hear anything back. Maybe even longer.”

Iris is done with her bottle, so I put it on the table and lift her onto my shoulder to burp her. “Do you think that’s a good idea, considering our history?”

“Our history,” she questions. “Marcus, we had sex once, two years ago. I think we’ve both moved past it.”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that, and you know it,” I say, rubbing small circles on Little Loaf’s back.

“Yes, it was messy. But I don’t have some little schoolgirl crush anymore. I’m not pining for you. You’re not pining for me. It’s behind us.”

Maybe it’s sleep deprivation, but she is making sense. “I could definitely use the help,” I say, thinking about how nice it would be to get some sleep and a shower. I’m in awe of the millions of women who do this daily. “Are you sure you want to spend your days with a baby?”