I close the door, and a tickle pokes at my heart. I think I like that woman.
Yeah, but you’d be a selfish idiot if you go for her. I’m not relationship material. Proof being, I’ve never been in one. And right now, what would be the point of starting something when I’m so damned busy? She’d feel ignored.
The current woman in my life starts making cooing sounds in my arms.
“What am I going to do with you, huh?” I’ve come up empty-handed in the sitter department.
I go back to my room and set Fia down in her car seat. I really need to figure out how to put together that portable bassinet. The thing has snaps and zippers and… It looks like a pair of pants from the ’80s.
“I think I saw Michael Jackson wearing this in the ‘Thriller’ video,” I tell Fia, not that she understands me.
I stand over her, hands on my waist, staring down at this tiny person. She looks out of place in my room, which has one lamp, a desk and chair, and a bed. The walls are pretty bare except for a few plaques I’ve earned while on the team—mostly stupid stuff, like most push-ups or biggest biceps. Coach gives them out at the end of each season at our banquet. The real trophies go to the guys who play in almost every game and bring the wins. My first two years, I was basically a bench player. I played just a little. Last year, Coach said I was ready to be in the starting lineup, and I played like a god. Until I didn’t.
This is my fourth season, and I have to play like a god the entire time, or I’m done. No team will draft me.
“What am I doing, Fia?” I ask her. “I should be getting my head straight, not playing daddy.”
I dig my cell from my pocket and dial Marli again.
Voicemail.
“Marli, come on. You gotta call me back. You can’t just abandon your baby like this. Call me.”
CHAPTER SIX
By four o’clock, I feel like I’m mastering the baby care basics. Feeding Fia is the easiest. You measure with the scooper, add formula to the bottle along with warm bottled water, and give it a quick shake. Easy.
Not easy? When you try to eat and hold her at the same time, and then you look away from your turkey avocado sandwich for a moment, and she smooshes her hand in it.
Damn, she’s fast for a baby. She got a chunk of avocado stuck between her tiny fingers, and it ended up in her nostril faster than I could say, “No! Bad baby.” I didn’t know what else to do. Thankfully, I was able to wipe most of it off before she inhaled and got green goop lodged in up there.
I’ll have to be more careful. And I have to buy something to suck goop from the smallest nostrils I’ve ever seen. I’m just glad I wasn’t eating something like peanut butter. What if she’s allergic? The baby book says Fia won’t be ready for solid food for eight more weeks and that there’s a whole process to introducing foods to make sure you don’t kill the little suckers. Thankfully, by then, Marli will have come back.
I hope?
I can’t afford to buy anything else. The baby wash, diapers, and formula I ordered for delivery tonight set me back over eighty bucks. Eighty! I’m literally giving up real food for the week so I can pump fake milk into an eating machine that rewards me with poop. Seriously, changing diapers is the kind of hell that makes me question the sanity of every person who ever had a baby.
I’m never going to eat a Snickers again. Or anything brown. But at least I’ve learned putting tissue paper up my nose helps. Also, putting a trash bag down on the bed makes cleanup easier. Dressing her is pretty simple now that I’ve figured out how to maneuver those fat little arms and legs into her pink leotard thing.
See. This parenting thing isn’t so hard.
Okay. Except when it comes to sleep. I’m so wound up about how I’ll make it through this week that I couldn’t get a nap in. Which makes the problem of not having a sitter-plan feel worse.
I fucking hate not having a plan. Sitting around with a problem isn’t my style. Unfortunately, how I feel doesn’t matter right now because I can’t miss practice.
“Sorry, baby, but this is my only option.” I load Fia into the passenger seat of my white Ford pickup. “You’re okay, right?”
She shoves her chubby little fist against her mouth and gnaws with her toothless gums. Babies are weird.
“Fine. You’re good. But how about the seat? Did I put it in right? Is this how Mommy does it?” The firefighter guy online made it look so easy.