Pieces of Him (10 page)

I wake to the sound of crying, reach out, and turn the vibration button on the bassinet to calm Xander down. The clock on the cable box reads 7:00 am, and I’m surprised he slept this late. I fed him last at two am, so I’m grateful for the extra few hours of sleep he gave me. I take a minute to stretch out my tight muscles and get up to make him a bottle.

After my fucking meltdown last night, I got my shit together and went back into the service. I sat there with Jack and Rachel, who never let go of Xander while a service to commemorate Keri’s life was given. I hung out as people from her job trickled in and out, and stayed calm as they gave me their condolences. I thanked them and accepted their handshakes and hugs, even though it felt wrong. She wasn’t really mine, not like that, but I guess I was the closest thing to family she had, and that makes it all even sadder.

Her roommates hung around until the very end. Dana even offered to babysit Xander when I go back to work since she only works a few nights a week. She said I’d only be helping her out because she was looking to pick up an extra job now that her rent would be going up. I jumped at the offer because she said she’d watch him in my apartment every day, and she’s saving me what I can only imagine is a ton of money in daycare expenses.

When the service was over, Jack asked if I wanted a minute alone with Keri. I guess he thought I might like some time to say good-bye, but I didn’t need any time. I’d said what I had to say to her, brought her son to her, and made her my promise. There was nothing left for me to do, so instead, I took Xander and went home where I spent most of the night mentally preparing myself for what my new life would look like and trying to envision what my new normal would be. In the end, the only thing I came up with was that no matter how hard shit gets, or how bad it gets, I won’t take it out on Xander. I won’t do to him what my dad did to me, alienating me and making me feel responsible for my mother’s departure. He never even tried to be a real father to me, not really. He did the bare minimum to keep me alive and keep child protective services out of his face. Father of the fucking year. I can do better than he did. In fact, I’m going to make it my mission in life to be better than him.

I finish prepping Xander’s bottle and head back to the bedroom where he’s just started to cry again.

“All right, Xander. I’m here,” I tell him, putting the bottle on the nightstand, and scooping him up into my arms. I get in bed lying back down and positioning him within the crook of my arm. Reaching backward, I grab the formula and relax in the bed while Xander drinks.
I can do this,
I think as I watch him drink. He’s doing okay, and even though taking care of him is a pain in the ass, it’s not rocket science.
I can definitely do this.

Emilia~

It’s been nearly two weeks since I had my run-in with my asshole of a neighbor. In that time, I have managed to avoid him, or should I say, I’ve done my extreme best to avoid him.
Jerk.
That being said, I have not avoided spying through my peephole to find out the status of the baby. Here’s what I know: First. The baby is still with him. Second. He’s gotten a babysitter for him. She’s a pretty girl with long blond hair and the body of a twelve-year-old, no curves whatsoever. That’s neither here nor there. Mostly, I’m just curious as to why the baby is still with him if he was so adamant about giving him up. Does it really take that long to find an adoptive family when you’re that motivated?

I put thoughts of father and son out of my mind and focus on my drive home. I check my mirrors to make sure no one is following me. I haven’t seen or heard from Garrett since that day outside my job, the same night I had my encounter with my neighbor. Afterward, I called my father and told him what happened with Garrett. He was obviously furious and told me that he would handle the situation immediately. That said, he also told me that I should be vigilant and watch my surroundings just in case he showed up again. My mother got wind of this, and of course, had a very different reaction.
You should be flattered that he cares enough to come calling, Emelia,
were her exact words about the subject. As usual, what I wanted didn’t factor into her thought process at all. Not even after I told her that Garrett had actually frightened me did she relent. Why would she, though? In my mom’s opinion, unwanted attention is better than no attention at all.

I pull into the parking lot, shut off the ignition, and grab my purse before exiting the car. I make it in the building and just my luck, at that very moment,
The Jerk’s
new babysitter is coming out of his apartment, pushing the baby in a stroller. As I walk toward my door, I get the sense by looking at her that something is off. She leaves his front door open and her gait is unsteady at best. I’m about to bite the bullet and ask her if she’s okay when she twists her foot and hits the ground with a loud thump. I rush to her, all the while thanking god that she had enough sense to let go of the carriage when she fell.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m all right,” she says, but it comes out as more of a slur. She tries to get up only to stumble again, and as I reach out a hand to help her up, I realize she’s completely trashed. What. The. Fuck?

“There you go,” I say through gritted teeth as I let her go watching her as she struggles to remain upright. “Where were you off to?” I ask, trying to hide the anger and alarm in my voice.

“Taking Xander to the park,” she answers, again slurring her words. I give her a slow nod, but no way in hell am I letting her go anywhere with him. I probably shouldn’t get involved considering I don’t know these people, but I can’t just let her take him out when she’s barely functional.

“I’m Emelia.” I introduce myself with a smile on my face even though I want to bitch slap this girl. “I live right across the hall. Why don’t I help you get Xander back inside the apartment while you get your bearings?”

“I’m fine. I’m taking Xander to the park,” she says, moving to grab hold of the stroller. I position myself in front of it denying her access. “What are you doing?” Her voice is rising, and she’s getting agitated. I can see it written all over her face.

“Listen to me,” I tell her calmly trying to refrain from losing the modicum of patience I have left with her and making matters worse. “You’re in no condition to go anywhere, especially not with a baby.”

“What in the hell is that supposed to mean?”

I roll my eyes because this chick is taking me from angry to irate in record time. “It means that you’re drunk and stumbling. You’re not taking this baby out of this building.”

“Screw you! I’m his babysitter.”

“Really? Does his father know that you’re getting drunk on the job?” Her eyes go wide, and I can tell she’s scared of the prospect of dealing with an angry asshole of a man. She shakes the fear off and waves a hand dismissively at me.

“Max likes me. He wouldn’t care.”

Max … Max is his name. Max and Xander. I have to admit I wondered what their names were. Though, Max the Jerk has a nice ring to it.

“Max would lose his fucking mind if he saw you like this around his kid.” I’m reaching here because I have no idea how he’d react. He’d probably offer her another beer and join her. Okay, I don’t know that. I’m just being a bitch, but he deserves it.

“I’m just having a hard time right now,” she whines as if telling me this is going to make this extreme lapse in judgment any better.

“I’m sure you are, and I’m sorry for you, but you can’t drink while you’re watching Xander … ever.”

“Don’t judge me.” She jabs an unsteady finger in my direction. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“No. I don’t. I just know that Max trusted you to take care of his son and you’re not doing a great job of it right now.” I skirt around her pushing the stroller back into the apartment and begin to undo his harness.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m getting him out of this stroller, and I’ll stay and help you with him while you sober up.”

“I’m fine! I just need some air,” she half shouts at me.

I lift my head to look at her completely stone-faced. “You’re not fine. Now, get in here, close the door, and drink a glass of water or something,” I tell her turning back to Xander. I have no idea if drinking water will actually help her. I’ve never been drunk, so I have no fucking clue what I’m talking about.

“You think you’re so much better than I am? You watch him,” she calls from somewhere in the background. She slams the door leaving me alone with Xander before I get the chance to even try to stop her. “What. The. Fuck?” I can’t believe that bitch just left me here, a complete fucking stranger, with a baby she’s supposed to be taking care of. This is just unbelievable. I have no idea when this Max person will be home, and I don’t have his number. I have no clue what this baby’s schedule is. How much formula does he take?
Holy shit.
When am I going to learn to mind my own fucking business especially where this baby is concerned. But I can’t help myself.
He’s such a cute little man,
I think, as I pick him up out of his stroller and hold him close to me. I notice a baby blanket thrown over the arm of the couch and I walk over to it to pick up the blanket and cautiously wrap a sleeping Xander up in it.

“That silly girl didn’t even grab a blanket for you, did she?” I whisper taking in the sweetness of him. His tiny almond-shaped eyes and button nose, his sweet little lips, and the shock of brown hair that sticks out of his little baby hat. “You’re just such a sweet boy, aren’t you?” I coo more for myself than him. I realize I’m smiling as I take a seat on the couch. Figuring I’m going to be here for a while, I might as well settle in. I grab the remote and switch on the TV, all the while keeping Xander snuggled close. I lounge there for a while and begin to doze off just as Xander stirs, his little whimpers waking me up. I lay him down in his play yard and walk into the kitchen searching for what I need. Luckily, Max keeps everything out in the open and Xander’s bottles, water, and formula are all arranged neatly on the countertop. I pick up the formula powder and read the directions.
One scoop of powder for every two ounces of water.

“Okay, he’s just a tiny thing, so he can’t drink more than two or three ounces.” I deduce making my best-educated guess. I pour three ounces of water in the bottle and scoop in the powder, put the top on, and shake it up. I head back to the living room. I rifle through his diaper bag until I find a bib and a burp cloth and pick Xander up, sitting back on the couch with him. I give him the bottle and thank god that my father forced me to get a job the summer before I went off to college. He wanted me to have some real work experience. I spent that summer working as an aide in the nursery of a daycare center. My mother, of course, thought it was ridiculous to make me get a job, but my father stood his ground against her. Eventually, she relented.

Once Xander’s finished his bottle and seems sated, I change his diaper then hold him and watch him sleep for a little while. When I look at him, I can’t help but to wonder how Max could even think of giving such a beautiful little boy away. It’s not that I don’t believe in adoption. I’m not usually so judgmental. It’s just that I know Max is doing it for purely selfish reasons. He’s doing this because he doesn’t want to be a single father—end of story.

My stomach churns, and I realize that I haven’t eaten yet. The clock on the cable box reads that it’s just past six pm. Slowly, I get up, set Xander down in his play yard, and grab my purse off the floor where I left it when I was getting him out of the stroller. I check my cell making sure there are no missed calls or messages then I toss it on the couch along with my bag. I push the stroller out of the middle of the entryway and set it off to the side where it’s out of the way. Going into the kitchen, I open the refrigerator and find that it’s surprisingly well stocked. I grab some cold cuts, cheese, mayonnaise, and a can of soda. I search his cabinets for bread, grab a knife and a plate, and make myself a sandwich. Once I’ve eaten, I make sure to wash my plate and put everything away. I imagine that Max the Jerk will be home soon, so I head back into the living room, plop down on his couch, and sit and wait for him.