Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100661 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100661 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Would he look like me? Like my dad? Would he have the distinctive Lupo nose and chin? Would he have blue eyes like Mabel and I did? Brown hair? Would he get that dimple in her smile?
I was overcome with emotion, and my eyes began to sting. My chest ached.
“Joe? Are you still there?”
I realized Mabel had been talking to me. “Sorry.” I cleared my throat. “I’m here.”
She took the phone from Ari and flipped the view so I could see her face. Her smile lit up the screen, and her eyes glistened with tears. “It’s a boy.”
“I heard.” My voice cracked. I laughed, and Mabel laughed too.
“Ari also got it on video with her phone—we had it set up—so I’ll send it to you.”
“Thanks. I’d like to show my parents.”
“Of course. I’m going to hang up now and get dressed, but then I’ll send.”
“Perfect.”
She smiled and waved. “Talk to you later. Good luck tonight! We’ll be watching.”
“Thanks.” The call ended, and I set my phone aside. For several minutes, I remained on the couch, staring into space.
A boy. I was going to have a son.
Emotions swirled within me. Fear that I wouldn’t know how to be a dad, gratitude for Mabel that she was taking such good care of him, happiness that he was developing perfectly, and a fiercely protective love I’d never known.
I wished Mabel were here. I wanted to put my arms around her. I wanted to place my hands on her belly and feel the little guy kick. I wanted to talk to him so he’d hear my voice and know it once he was born.
A boy. I was going to have a son.
We were about halfway there already—nineteen weeks down. He was the size of a mango now. And over the next four months or so, he’d grow to be the size of a watermelon. I tried not to think about how Mabel was going to get something that big through an opening I knew was considerably smaller. Was she scared? She hadn’t talked much about the actual birth. I should ask her. I wondered if she’d want me in the room or out in the hall, and I couldn’t decide which location I’d prefer.
My phone buzzed, and I checked it—Mabel had sent the video. I watched it five times in a row.
A boy. I was going to have a son.
Should I start acting like it?
Filled with the sudden urge to do something mature and responsible, I jumped off the couch and went over to the kitchen, where I grabbed a broom from the pantry and began sweeping up crumbs from the floor. After that, I made my bed. Then I emptied the dishwasher. Put a load of laundry in the washer. Pretty soon, an hour had gone by.
It wasn’t time to leave for the game yet, but I was too restless to sit still. I threw on a thick hoodie and left my apartment building. Pulling my hood over my head for privacy, I walked down the street and went into the drugstore. Some strange compulsion had me looking for the baby care aisle, where I stood there staring at things I’d never noticed before. Diapers and wipes. Bottles and nipples. Shampoo and powder and ointment. Things for their skin and hair and teeth and butts.
So many things for their butts.
I reached for a box of diapers and took it off the shelf. Holding it with both hands, I stared at the baby on the front, who was wrapped up in something that looked like a bag made out of a yellow blanket. Only his head poked out the top—even his arms were constrained. I turned the box over but didn’t see any instructions on how to change a diaper. Maybe they were inside?
“Finding everything okay?”
I jumped like I’d been caught stealing and turned to see an employee smiling at me. “Um.”
“Are you wondering if those are the right size?” she asked, indicating the box in my hands. Her smile was kind.
“Oh—no,” I said, putting the box back on the shelf. “I was just looking.”
Her face scrunched up and she shrank back a little. “Just looking at diapers?”
“I’m going to be a dad soon,” I blurted.
“Oh.” Her expression relaxed with understanding. “Are you nervous?”
“Yeah. I don’t know anything about babies. I’m an uncle, but I just play with my nieces and nephews. I’ve never had to actually feed them or change them or get them to sleep.”
She smiled. “You’ll figure it out.”
“It’s all just happening really fast. I feel a little out of control.”
“When’s the baby due?”
“April.”
“You’ve got some time yet. Don’t worry—a lot of it is instinct.”
Instinct. I felt that way about hockey, too. A lot of what made me good was instinct—knowing where to be on the ice, who to pass to, when to shoot.