“Holy shit, it’s you.”
As I look over her shoulder, I see a photographer. I don’t see a single one in LAX, but outside Metro with another woman in my arms, and sure as shit he’s taking pictures.
“It’s me all right,” I say as I set her down. I move quickly to pull her into the club, away from prying eyes and whatever else may be out there.
The nursery is a mess. Linda offered to unpack and wash everything, but I told her I would do it. Staying busy will keep my mind off the fact that Liam isn’t here to experience this with me. The only baby item that is somewhat ready to go is the crib. Liam and Noah stayed up and put it together before Liam left. I’m thankful that they did. I think every dad should put together his child’s crib. It’s a rite of passage or whatever you want to call it.
Leaning against the doorjamb, I eye the packages and baskets that are piled high. The amount of clothes, toys and necessities is overwhelming. I had a baby shower with Noah, but all my friends were college students and their money was better spent on laundry and pizza, not baby gifts. This time it’s different, and I’m thankful even if the task before me is daunting.
I thought I’d be eager to come home and look at everything again, but I still can’t shake the fact that Bianca showed up. Her gift should’ve been given to Noah and as much as I want to return Liam’s baby blanket to her, I can’t. My children should have a piece of their father - right now my son only knows of his father’s younger years through home-made DVD’s and photos from high school. We have no baby pictures whatsoever. Other than that, there is the random chance Noah flicks on MTV and catches one of his dad’s music videos.
The blanket is draped over the crib now. For some reason I unpacked it the moment we came home, rushing upstairs to do so while Noah and Quinn took over the “man-of-the-house duties” and unloaded the all the gifts from our cars. If Katelyn saw it, she didn’t say anything. And as I stand here and stare at it, it makes me long to have a mother-in-law who cares, one that would sit around a warm winter’s fire and tell stories from when Liam was younger. I know he didn’t have the same type of childhood I did. His was structured and focused. Anyone who knows Liam would never guess that his mother is withdrawn and emotionally unavailable. He’s caring, nurturing and attentive. He’s everything his mother - and his father, for that matter - isn’t.
The reds and blues of the quilt seem lonely as if it needs someone to hold it. I remember holding Noah in his from the first day until it was nothing but a shell of its original self. I couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing his blanket every day so when it was worn and torn, I took what was left of it, along with some of the t-shirts he had outgrown, and made a new baby blanket. It’s tucked away in my closet for when he has a child of his own.
As I stare at the quilt, I know I have to make a decision on whether this child will use it. Bianca should’ve stepped up long before now to make amends. She’s been working on establishing a relationship with Noah and maybe this is where the relationship building with us needs to start.
I pull the door shut, knowing that if I stand there any longer I’m going to drive myself to drink an entire bottle of wine. The outcome of doing so would not be good for me, or for Liam. The last thing he needs to hear about is my pity party for one when he’s trying to work. Even if I call him, he’ll reassure me that everything is going to be fine, that he loves me and he’ll be home soon. I can’t bear to unload all my insecurities on him. He needs to believe that I’m strong enough to handle him being away on business because if he does what he wants to do with the band, a few weeks away can turn into months and months. Unfortunately, that’s something I’m not quite ready to accept yet... but he doesn’t need to know that right now.
What I don’t understand is why this child is more important in her eyes than Noah. Even after he was born, and she’d pause in the grocery store and look at him, she knew… she knew the baby in the seat was her blood and did nothing. There was so much she could’ve done for Noah, not for me. Noah deserved more.