Walking in without knocking startles her. Nicki hides her face behind the sheet, wipes at her eyes, and emerges with a fake smile. That she thinks she can get away with this makes Bud mad.
“Are you okay? Want me to call a nurse?”
“No, no. Just one of those postpartum things. We’re fine.”
The crown of the baby’s head, a fluff of down above the sheet, is at one breast. The other breast is exposed, a spiderweb of blue and red veins under creamy skin, nipple gorged, a drip of white—transformed from its function of creating lust to its practical utility.
“He’s fallen asleep. Would you put him in the bassinet?”
Bud pulls back the sheet, stands with his hands at the baby’s back, afraid to touch it, not trusting himself.
“Roll him over, one hand under his head for support. You need to learn how to do it. Want a nurse to show you?”
Bud carries it to the little bed, lays it on its back, knees pumping, arms reaching for warmth, face a snarl, the beginning of a whine. Bud drapes a blanket atop, snugs its arms against its sides. The baby goes limp again with sleep, lips parted, the tip of his tongue flicking in-and-out through the gums as if still nursing, dreaming of the nipple.
Fat little feet stick out past the blanket. Already toenails. He imagines the baby in a ball inside her. He examines the toes again, fingering each one individually, so soft he can hardly feel them. He remembers the joke with Nicki about six toes, how she had laughed. Turned out to be four toes. Five toes actually, five toenails, but with a web of skin between the two toes adjacent to the big toe on both feet. He has seen this only once before—a friend, a playmate from childhood. He and Nicki had compared their feet to his, thinking nothing of it other than he was special.
He had done the research online. An errant gene, carried dormant in the DNA through generations, expressing itself randomly like a cleft palate, likely resulting from inbreeding in the heritage of one of the parents. The probability was rare that it would be passed from one generation to the next. He finds himself counting in his mind again, for the hundredth time, sometimes on his fingers, sometimes with a calendar—nine months back. He had been in Betty’s fifteenth-floor condo overlooking Lake Superior. Alone, giddy as he cleaned preparing for Nicki’s arrival, her college entrance paperwork spread on the dining table, already filled in except for her signatures.
“We have to name him,” she says. “We can’t wait any longer. They have to finish the birth certificate.”
He feels her eyes eating into his back.
“We’ll name him William,” he says without turning. “William’s a good name, don’t you think?” The bed shuffles; bedsprings squeak. He doesn’t need to see her face to know for sure. Silence is enough.
“I didn’t know, Bud, not till he was born. I wasn’t deceiving you. I thought…”
He thinks he hears a sob. He’s never heard her cry, in all these years.
“Do you hate me?”
He doesn’t answer, can’t breathe.
“It didn’t mean anything, Bud. I got lonely, with you off at school. It’s always been you, Bud. Don’t you believe me?”
“I’ve got to go back to the island.”
“It was only that once, Bud, I swear. I was so lonely. We didn’t intend for it to happen…neither of us.”
He glances over his shoulder, the sheet balled into her face. He feels the urge to go to her then twists his head quickly back to the baby. It is already decided.
“He’s beautiful, Bud. Our baby. Can’t you forgive me?”
“Something’s come up about the property. I have to leave as soon as you get home. Your mother called. Told her about the hurricane, all that—not about the baby. She left a number for you to call back. You can tell her then.”
“Please—”
He knew the word was coming and cuts her off. “Sold the old Nissan today. Hired a private nurse to stay with you until you can take care of the baby yourself. Paid a month up front.”
With the infirmity of doubt now solidified into certainty, he cannot stay for what will come next. He walks to the door slowly although he wants to run.
“Don’t leave me, Bud.”
He hesitates only a moment, flings the door wide, and walks through without looking back.
“Please…”
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