Pulled(85)
Author: A.L. Jackson

I plodded down the hallway slowly, each step forced. I felt il as I stood in front of Vanessa’s room. Using my hand to brace myself against the wal , I tried to come to terms with meeting a son I did not want. It was time to be the man my mom always praised me to be and the man my dad had taught me to be, no matter how much I wanted to neglect this responsibility. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

I stood in the doorway unable to move as the shril cries of a newborn infant hit me full force. The child was on his back in the smal , plastic hospital crib, screaming uncontrol ably. Vanessa was in bed, a pil ow over her head, clearly trying to drown out his incessant call.

Before I could stop myself, I spat out, “What the hel is wrong with you?” and took the four steps needed to bring me face-to-face with my son for the very first time.

I barely registered Vanessa’s voice as she whined, “He won’t stop crying,” as this tiny person demanded all of my attention. He was dressed in a little white shirt that wrapped around him and snapped in the front, the long sleeves covering his arms. In his hysterics, one hand had broken free of the folded end meant to cover his hand. It was wound in a tight fist that he held against his face, which was pinched and beet red—and absolutely beautiful. The reality of who he was knocked the air from my lungs.

My son.

I shook my head, trying to make sense of what I felt when I looked at this precious child.

I swal owed hard, and tentatively reached an unsteady hand out to take hold of the little fist, prying his fingers open to keep him from scratching the side of his face. He instantly reacted and wrapped those same little fingers around my index finger. His mouth immediately turned toward my hand. The poor little thing was starving.

I gathered all my courage and scooped him up.

His cries quieted when he found safety in my arms. I made sure he was secure in one arm, holding him close to my chest as I fumbled around with the other to grab hold of the full bottle beside his head. I lowered us into the chair, carefully protecting his head, shifting him so I could feed him. I found myself making little cooing noises, shushing him, whispering, “It’s okay, little man,” against the thin material of the cap that covered his head.

He made grunting noises as he adjusted himself to the feel of the bottle in his mouth, and he began to suck.

He fel into a rhythm, taking a few gulps and then stopping to catch his breath. They were the sweetest sounds I’d ever heard.

I wanted to look away and ignore the way he tugged at my heart, but his cal was irresistible.

With the bottle balanced between my chin and chest, I pulled the little cap from his head, exposing his thin, blond curls. I ran my hand through the soft, fine strands, twisting them in my fingers, quivering with the warmth that sped through my veins as I did so. He released a satisfied, heavy breath from his nose and snuggled into my side, still suckling, but at a less fevered rate. I ran the tip of my finger around the shel of his ear and over his cheek. His newborn skin felt like velvet from the soft, protective fuzz that covered every inch of him. His legs were long and thin but at the same time plump and healthy. I removed one of his socks so I could see his toes, grinning at how big his foot seemed compared to the rest of him. I cupped the whole thing in my hand and gently squeezed. He pushed back into my palm, the little muscles in his legs flexing their strength. He was perfect.

With the bottle nearly gone, his mouth had fal en lax, and I pulled it away and set it aside. I turned him, picked him up from under his arms, and rested him against my shoulder. He stretched, his little bottom sticking out and his legs curling up underneath him, his red lips forming a tiny “O” as he expel ed a smallyawn.

I couldn’t help but nuzzle my nose in the crook of his neck, smell ing his soft, clean scent as I patted him on the back and coaxed the bubble from deep within his belly.

His breathing evened out, and he fel asleep quietly panting. Soft puffs of air fel against my neck. When his hand came up to rest on my cheek, I nearly fel apart. I brought it to my mouth and placed a gentle kiss against his palm uttering, “I love you,” into the delicate skin, shocking myself with my own revelation.

Once I had admitted it, I was unable to keep back the torrent of love that came gushing forth from some unknown reservoir. I never thought I would feel this away again. I had always believed that if I all owed myself to love another child the way I loved Eva, it would somehow diminish the devotion I had for her. But my love for her still burned bright, and I would never forget her, the child who had touched me so deeply. She could never be replaced. I would love her forever, just as I would love her brother forever.

I kissed his head as he slept against me, rocking him slowly. We sat like that for what seemed like hours.

With each passing minute, I fel further and deeper in love with him. Our spirits learned the other, our hearts melding together. I was bound to him for eternity. He was mine, and I would never let him go.

I didn’t try to engage Vanessa and all owed her to sleep, something she so obviously needed.

I turned to the door when I heard the sound of two faint, timid knocks. Dad peeked his head in, an apologetic scowl on his face. “I hope we’re not interrupting. We hadn’t heard from you in a long time, and we were getting worried.”

I smiled widely at him in reassurance, gesturing with my head for him to enter. The door opened wide, and he walked in. It was not surprising that his hand was firmly intertwined with Mom’s, both of them nervous as they entered the smal room. They stopped abruptly when they found me with my sleeping son cradled in my arms. My eyes were red and swol en from the tears I’d shed, this new love un-contained and dancing on my face. Mom and Dad had had no idea what to expect when they found me in this room, but from the relief that poured from them, it was clear that this was exactly what they’d hoped for.

Mom confirmed it when she started crying as she came to me and kissed me on the side of my head.

“I knew this would happen.” She beamed down at me, then extended the same love-fil ed gaze to my son, her hand coming out to caress the smal of his back as she leaned in closer. “He’s absolutely beautiful, Daniel. Oh, my goodness, he looks just like you!”

I nodded in agreement. He looked exactly like my newborn pictures that Mom so proudly displayed in the den, so much so that I was certain nobody would be able to tel us apart.

“May I?” She reached for him not waiting for permission and whisked him away with very adept hands.

Her tone was sweet and melodic as she spoke gently, swaying her new grandson in her arms. “Hel o, sweetheart.