+. weird, world.
For Lizz, who wanted Ben and a "first time" with the kids,
Floating somewhere amber-tinted and warm, Olivia became vaguely aware of lips brushing against hers.
"...Liv? Time to wake up, angel. Wouldn't want to be late for your first day of class, would you?"
"Mmmmh," she grumbled, burrowing further under the covers, pushing her face into his faded t-shirt. "Can't be six yet," she said, sluggish, consonants heavy and rounded. "Didn't hear alarm..."
Ben shifted and pushed the duvet away. Pressed a kiss to the back of her neck, next to the frazzled coil of her braid. "That's because I turned it off before it could blare. Thought you'd rather wake up peacefully."
"Don't wanna get up," she mumbled, catching his arm as he started to rise, pulling him back down beside her. "Just ten more minutes... Mmmh, you're so warm..."
Ben's such a good kisser, Olivia thought, so warm now she felt almost sunburned. We should've been doing this years ago. I need to work on making up for lost time...
When he pulled away she couldn't hold back the sigh. "I'd be more than happy to start on baby number two," he said, breathless but with a smile. "But we really should postpone until tonight. Gotta make a good impression on the college, right?"
"Ugh, I know," she said, sitting up and brushing the bangs from her eyes. "Where the hell did the holidays go?"
"It is sort of nice having the house to ourselves again, though," Ben said as she pulled the baggy shirt over her head and stepped into the bathroom. "Just me, you, and the kids."
It had been a couple months -- she shouldn't get such a queer thrill from those words. She'd mostly gotten used to the fact of it: that she's a mom now. That Ben's a dad, that they brought a life into the world, that they brought another home to share theirs. She's glad she decided to wait and start teaching in the second semester of classes. It gave her enough time to not only physically recover from Scout's birth but to accustom herself with the new reality. It gave her and Ben the time to start settling Amari into a new and stable home, to reassure him that they were never going to leave him again; that nobody would leave him again.
But now her other responsibilities were demanding her time. For the first time, she'd be spending the bulk of the day on a campus twenty miles away, talking to twenty-four twentysomethings about lighting and hues, while her husband looked after their son and daughter.
She was dwelling on this and rinsing her hair when Ben opened the shower door, momentarily obscured when the blast of cooler air met the steam.
"You're not nervous, are you?" they managed to say almost simultaneously.
Her laughter was cut off by another kiss, and with one thing or another, she still had to scramble to leave on time.
"Don't worry," Ben assured his son as the red car pulled out of the driveway. Amari had his face pressed against the window, lips trembling slightly as he waved -- it sent a pain through Ben's chest and he struggled to speak lightly. "Mama's coming back tonight. She just has to go to work. Remember what she said last night?"
Amari nodded, brave-faced but obviously still upset. "C'mere, Strong Man," Ben said, settling a burbling Scout into her rolling chair and kneeling down to eye-level. "I was thinking we could go to the bookstore and pick something up for Mama, but we can do whatever you want today, okay?" He spoke slowly, carefully signing each word in tandem.
The little boy hesitated, looking from his sister -- bouncing in her chair and blowing enthusiastic bubbles -- to his smiling father. We'll get Mama a present? he signed.
"A new book just came out about one of her favorite artists, and I thought it'd be a good way to celebrate her new job. You know, she didn't want to leave today, either. She's gonna miss us all day, and a present might make her feel better tonight."
Let's go to the bookstore, Amari signed firmly. ...And I can play with the train?
"Absolutely."
As he packed the diaper bag and helped Amari get into his little green jacket with the T-Rex on the back, Ben did his best to tamp down his nerves. He knew how sensitive his son was; he didn't want to upset the boy just because he was uneasy. There was no reason to feel overwhelmed, he reminded himself sternly. Scout's been a well-behaved baby so far, and Amari is as good as gold if a little anxious at times -- he can handle a simple outing to Barnes & Noble. He's dealt with things far worse than a pair of children.
But then the traffic was unusually hellish, and there was a white-knuckled moment with an 18-wheeler. The moment they stepped through the door Scout began to grizzle in the sling he'd fastened over his chest, her tiny fists beating an uneven tempo on his chest. It seemed they've arrived in the middle of a storytime event, because the children's department was overrun with toddlers, most shrieking or crying, which only distressed the baby further. As she wound up into a full-blown scream Amari clung to one of Ben's legs, eyes huge and body rigid.
It was too much for the boy. A full sensory overload, with two dozen boys and girls babbling in a language he's only half-familiar with, eyes staring at him from every direction. Not even the train table, his haven in past visits, was safe -- a particularly bossy child of indeterminate gender and wild hair was industriously banging the wooden Thomas the Tank Engine against the glued-down track with enough force to chip the paint.
Daddy, too loud, Amari signed desperately in what would have been an audible wail.
"Okay, buddy, okay, we'll go to the other end of the store," Ben signed back quickly, pausing the soothing backrub he was giving Scout to free his hands, which only set the baby off again.
Daddy -- feel sick, Amari signed, pressing his lips tightly together.
Ben felt a rush of panic -- his son was in trouble, they're surrounded by screaming children and harassed adults, and there's no way he can move fast enough.
"Whoopsie -- looks like someone's got an upset tummy," a young woman with long blonde hair and a nametagged lanyard rushed over, trashcan in hand. She set it down before Amari just as he doubled over, and turned back to her counter to grab a box of Kleenexes. "It's okay, little man," she said soothingly. "Sometimes it's better out than in -- I'm Shelby," she told the flustered Ben, every bit the capable professional. "Work this job long enough and you get pretty good at seeing the signs -- don't worry, sweetie, you're not the first."
"Feel better?" Ben said, crouching down and patting his back as Amari sniffled and accepted the offered Kleenexes. "It's okay -- you know, I got sick at school once and didn't even make it to the trashcan. I was embarrassed, too. Thank you, Shelby."
"No problem. Here, sweetie, maybe a mint would make you feel better? They always make me feel better when my tummy hurts -- is that okay?" the last bit was directed at Ben, who nodded gratefully.
"Do you feel up to the drive back home, bud?" Ben asked after he calmed down. Scout reached out for her brother with a rush of sweet baby babble, and Amari smiled at her as he rubbed a Kleenex over his eyes.
But Mama's book, he signed. We have to get Mama's book.
"We can come back later and get it."
"Is there something I can help you with?" Shelby offered earnestly.
"We originally came in to get that new biography on Monet--"
"Wait here, just one second," the bookseller said before dashing off, reappearing only seconds later with a thick book in hand and struggling to catch her breath. "I set that table yesterday and knew right where it was -- here ya go."
"Thank you." Ben hoped she could see just how sincere his gratitude was.
"No problem. It's what I'm here for. Want another mint, sweetie? You look better already. Here, how about you take a couple coloring sheets home with you? I think I've got a superhero sticker in this drawer somewhere..."
I like her, Daddy, Amari signed. She's nice.
"She sure is."
"That's sign language, isn't it?" the bookseller asked. "I've always wanted to learn sign language. Oooh, here we go -- I've got a Black Panther sticker. Or would you rather have a Superman?"
Amari pointed at the first with a shy smile.
"Have you seen the movie yet? I thought he was really cool."
"We haven't watched it yet, but we probably will soon," Ben said.
"Well, you'll have to come back and tell me what you thought of it, okay? We've got a ton of books about him over there in the corner."
Thank you, Amari signed politely.
"What's the sign for 'you're welcomed'?" the woman asked, parroting Ben as he demonstrated. "Hope you feel better, sweetie. And next time you come in you can teach me some more signs, okay?"
Amari hesitated, clutching his sticker and coloring sheets, before abruptly hugging the bookseller's legs. "You've made quite the impression," Ben said. "He's only that huggy with people he likes." The disaster of five minutes ago was well on its way to being completely forgotten. "Thank you again, Shelby."
"You're very welcomed. Bye bye, sweetie."
As they were standing in line to pay for the book, Ben saw the blonde bookseller taking the trashcan out through a side door and silently thanked whoever was listening for people who can keep their heads around kids. For all that Olivia assures him he's going to be a super dad, he knew he had quite a ways to go yet.
"Find everything okay?" the cashier asked him.
"Yes, thank you. And if you could tell your manager that Shelby did an amazing job, I'd appreciate it. She went above and beyond with us."
"I'll be sure to pass the message along."
I'm sorry, Daddy, Amari signed as he was being buckled into the carseat.
"There's no need to say you're sorry, Strong Man," Ben said. "You didn't do anything wrong. It was an awful lot to take in, wasn't it?"
It was as loud as the airplane. And so many loud eyes. But the lady was nice.
"She was, wasn't she? We'll have to go back and visit her sometime."
She had nice things behind her eyes, too.
Ben hesitated on the last buckle. He was so young, little more than a baby; but when do you have a conversation like that? When was the right age for 'the talk' when the talk in question was about an ability few people would ever understand? "Amari, do you always see things in people's eyes?"
Not always, signed the little boy.
"You have to look hard to see things?"
He nodded, staring wide-eyed up at his father.
"Maybe... Maybe when we meet new people..." How to put it in words he'll understand?
I only Look at nice people? Amari signed, surprising him. His round, dark face was so solemn and inexplicably mature. Shelby, he fingerspelled carefully, is nice. She has a sister, like I have Scout, and there are two little girls at her house and a big dog with a smiley face. A yellow dog.
"You saw all that?" Ben asked.
A solemn nod. Can we put my sticker on my board? That was something Olivia came up with: a huge framed corkboard on his bedroom wall where Amari could pin up his art and treasures -- like the glossy crow feather he'd found in the backyard last weekend.
"Sure we can. And then we'll wrap Mama's new book up with pretty paper."
Because it's a present. Presents get wrapped.
"That's right, bud."
Next time we come, I won't get sick, the little boy promised, then held out his arms for another hug -- he always needed 'one more' before Ben could close the car door and get behind the wheel -- and traced a heart over Ben's right shoulder with the tip of one finger.
"Sometimes things are just a little messy, Strong Man," he assured him with a smile when he pulled back. "And that's okay. It just makes things more memorable, that's all."
For his first time out with both kids, things could've been a lot messier. Ben was, as usual, grateful for the kindness of strangers.
Floating somewhere amber-tinted and warm, Olivia became vaguely aware of lips brushing against hers.
"...Liv? Time to wake up, angel. Wouldn't want to be late for your first day of class, would you?"
"Mmmmh," she grumbled, burrowing further under the covers, pushing her face into his faded t-shirt. "Can't be six yet," she said, sluggish, consonants heavy and rounded. "Didn't hear alarm..."
Ben shifted and pushed the duvet away. Pressed a kiss to the back of her neck, next to the frazzled coil of her braid. "That's because I turned it off before it could blare. Thought you'd rather wake up peacefully."
"Don't wanna get up," she mumbled, catching his arm as he started to rise, pulling him back down beside her. "Just ten more minutes... Mmmh, you're so warm..."
Ben's such a good kisser, Olivia thought, so warm now she felt almost sunburned. We should've been doing this years ago. I need to work on making up for lost time...
When he pulled away she couldn't hold back the sigh. "I'd be more than happy to start on baby number two," he said, breathless but with a smile. "But we really should postpone until tonight. Gotta make a good impression on the college, right?"
"Ugh, I know," she said, sitting up and brushing the bangs from her eyes. "Where the hell did the holidays go?"
"It is sort of nice having the house to ourselves again, though," Ben said as she pulled the baggy shirt over her head and stepped into the bathroom. "Just me, you, and the kids."
It had been a couple months -- she shouldn't get such a queer thrill from those words. She'd mostly gotten used to the fact of it: that she's a mom now. That Ben's a dad, that they brought a life into the world, that they brought another home to share theirs. She's glad she decided to wait and start teaching in the second semester of classes. It gave her enough time to not only physically recover from Scout's birth but to accustom herself with the new reality. It gave her and Ben the time to start settling Amari into a new and stable home, to reassure him that they were never going to leave him again; that nobody would leave him again.
But now her other responsibilities were demanding her time. For the first time, she'd be spending the bulk of the day on a campus twenty miles away, talking to twenty-four twentysomethings about lighting and hues, while her husband looked after their son and daughter.
She was dwelling on this and rinsing her hair when Ben opened the shower door, momentarily obscured when the blast of cooler air met the steam.
"You're not nervous, are you?" they managed to say almost simultaneously.
Her laughter was cut off by another kiss, and with one thing or another, she still had to scramble to leave on time.
"Don't worry," Ben assured his son as the red car pulled out of the driveway. Amari had his face pressed against the window, lips trembling slightly as he waved -- it sent a pain through Ben's chest and he struggled to speak lightly. "Mama's coming back tonight. She just has to go to work. Remember what she said last night?"
Amari nodded, brave-faced but obviously still upset. "C'mere, Strong Man," Ben said, settling a burbling Scout into her rolling chair and kneeling down to eye-level. "I was thinking we could go to the bookstore and pick something up for Mama, but we can do whatever you want today, okay?" He spoke slowly, carefully signing each word in tandem.
The little boy hesitated, looking from his sister -- bouncing in her chair and blowing enthusiastic bubbles -- to his smiling father. We'll get Mama a present? he signed.
"A new book just came out about one of her favorite artists, and I thought it'd be a good way to celebrate her new job. You know, she didn't want to leave today, either. She's gonna miss us all day, and a present might make her feel better tonight."
Let's go to the bookstore, Amari signed firmly. ...And I can play with the train?
"Absolutely."
As he packed the diaper bag and helped Amari get into his little green jacket with the T-Rex on the back, Ben did his best to tamp down his nerves. He knew how sensitive his son was; he didn't want to upset the boy just because he was uneasy. There was no reason to feel overwhelmed, he reminded himself sternly. Scout's been a well-behaved baby so far, and Amari is as good as gold if a little anxious at times -- he can handle a simple outing to Barnes & Noble. He's dealt with things far worse than a pair of children.
But then the traffic was unusually hellish, and there was a white-knuckled moment with an 18-wheeler. The moment they stepped through the door Scout began to grizzle in the sling he'd fastened over his chest, her tiny fists beating an uneven tempo on his chest. It seemed they've arrived in the middle of a storytime event, because the children's department was overrun with toddlers, most shrieking or crying, which only distressed the baby further. As she wound up into a full-blown scream Amari clung to one of Ben's legs, eyes huge and body rigid.
It was too much for the boy. A full sensory overload, with two dozen boys and girls babbling in a language he's only half-familiar with, eyes staring at him from every direction. Not even the train table, his haven in past visits, was safe -- a particularly bossy child of indeterminate gender and wild hair was industriously banging the wooden Thomas the Tank Engine against the glued-down track with enough force to chip the paint.
Daddy, too loud, Amari signed desperately in what would have been an audible wail.
"Okay, buddy, okay, we'll go to the other end of the store," Ben signed back quickly, pausing the soothing backrub he was giving Scout to free his hands, which only set the baby off again.
Daddy -- feel sick, Amari signed, pressing his lips tightly together.
Ben felt a rush of panic -- his son was in trouble, they're surrounded by screaming children and harassed adults, and there's no way he can move fast enough.
"Whoopsie -- looks like someone's got an upset tummy," a young woman with long blonde hair and a nametagged lanyard rushed over, trashcan in hand. She set it down before Amari just as he doubled over, and turned back to her counter to grab a box of Kleenexes. "It's okay, little man," she said soothingly. "Sometimes it's better out than in -- I'm Shelby," she told the flustered Ben, every bit the capable professional. "Work this job long enough and you get pretty good at seeing the signs -- don't worry, sweetie, you're not the first."
"Feel better?" Ben said, crouching down and patting his back as Amari sniffled and accepted the offered Kleenexes. "It's okay -- you know, I got sick at school once and didn't even make it to the trashcan. I was embarrassed, too. Thank you, Shelby."
"No problem. Here, sweetie, maybe a mint would make you feel better? They always make me feel better when my tummy hurts -- is that okay?" the last bit was directed at Ben, who nodded gratefully.
"Do you feel up to the drive back home, bud?" Ben asked after he calmed down. Scout reached out for her brother with a rush of sweet baby babble, and Amari smiled at her as he rubbed a Kleenex over his eyes.
But Mama's book, he signed. We have to get Mama's book.
"We can come back later and get it."
"Is there something I can help you with?" Shelby offered earnestly.
"We originally came in to get that new biography on Monet--"
"Wait here, just one second," the bookseller said before dashing off, reappearing only seconds later with a thick book in hand and struggling to catch her breath. "I set that table yesterday and knew right where it was -- here ya go."
"Thank you." Ben hoped she could see just how sincere his gratitude was.
"No problem. It's what I'm here for. Want another mint, sweetie? You look better already. Here, how about you take a couple coloring sheets home with you? I think I've got a superhero sticker in this drawer somewhere..."
I like her, Daddy, Amari signed. She's nice.
"She sure is."
"That's sign language, isn't it?" the bookseller asked. "I've always wanted to learn sign language. Oooh, here we go -- I've got a Black Panther sticker. Or would you rather have a Superman?"
Amari pointed at the first with a shy smile.
"Have you seen the movie yet? I thought he was really cool."
"We haven't watched it yet, but we probably will soon," Ben said.
"Well, you'll have to come back and tell me what you thought of it, okay? We've got a ton of books about him over there in the corner."
Thank you, Amari signed politely.
"What's the sign for 'you're welcomed'?" the woman asked, parroting Ben as he demonstrated. "Hope you feel better, sweetie. And next time you come in you can teach me some more signs, okay?"
Amari hesitated, clutching his sticker and coloring sheets, before abruptly hugging the bookseller's legs. "You've made quite the impression," Ben said. "He's only that huggy with people he likes." The disaster of five minutes ago was well on its way to being completely forgotten. "Thank you again, Shelby."
"You're very welcomed. Bye bye, sweetie."
As they were standing in line to pay for the book, Ben saw the blonde bookseller taking the trashcan out through a side door and silently thanked whoever was listening for people who can keep their heads around kids. For all that Olivia assures him he's going to be a super dad, he knew he had quite a ways to go yet.
"Find everything okay?" the cashier asked him.
"Yes, thank you. And if you could tell your manager that Shelby did an amazing job, I'd appreciate it. She went above and beyond with us."
"I'll be sure to pass the message along."
I'm sorry, Daddy, Amari signed as he was being buckled into the carseat.
"There's no need to say you're sorry, Strong Man," Ben said. "You didn't do anything wrong. It was an awful lot to take in, wasn't it?"
It was as loud as the airplane. And so many loud eyes. But the lady was nice.
"She was, wasn't she? We'll have to go back and visit her sometime."
She had nice things behind her eyes, too.
Ben hesitated on the last buckle. He was so young, little more than a baby; but when do you have a conversation like that? When was the right age for 'the talk' when the talk in question was about an ability few people would ever understand? "Amari, do you always see things in people's eyes?"
Not always, signed the little boy.
"You have to look hard to see things?"
He nodded, staring wide-eyed up at his father.
"Maybe... Maybe when we meet new people..." How to put it in words he'll understand?
I only Look at nice people? Amari signed, surprising him. His round, dark face was so solemn and inexplicably mature. Shelby, he fingerspelled carefully, is nice. She has a sister, like I have Scout, and there are two little girls at her house and a big dog with a smiley face. A yellow dog.
"You saw all that?" Ben asked.
A solemn nod. Can we put my sticker on my board? That was something Olivia came up with: a huge framed corkboard on his bedroom wall where Amari could pin up his art and treasures -- like the glossy crow feather he'd found in the backyard last weekend.
"Sure we can. And then we'll wrap Mama's new book up with pretty paper."
Because it's a present. Presents get wrapped.
"That's right, bud."
Next time we come, I won't get sick, the little boy promised, then held out his arms for another hug -- he always needed 'one more' before Ben could close the car door and get behind the wheel -- and traced a heart over Ben's right shoulder with the tip of one finger.
"Sometimes things are just a little messy, Strong Man," he assured him with a smile when he pulled back. "And that's okay. It just makes things more memorable, that's all."
For his first time out with both kids, things could've been a lot messier. Ben was, as usual, grateful for the kindness of strangers.