Page 41 of Dirty Empire

Minutes later, after the nurses clean up the baby and Hazel, they hand him back to her.

“He’s gorgeous. Dark hair, blue eyes, caramel skin, and healthy.” Hazel cradles our son in her arms, rocking him back and forth. “He’s so beautiful.”

I touch his little feet as they wriggle around. So tiny and sweet. I feel the water pooling in my eyes. I’m not a man for tears, but this is different. This baby is something we’ve been confused about for months, and now he’s here. All I feel is peace. Pure peace.

“Do you-”

“Yes,” I interrupt her, holding out my hands to hold him. Unconditional love opened my heart. I take the baby from her awkwardly.

“Hold the back of his head,” Hazel instructs.

I hold him properly, basking in my son’s eyes. I’m in love. Surprisingly, a tear drops onto the hospital bed. We’re parents, whether biologically or not. We’re responsible for this tiny life. For the next several minutes, we cooed and stared down at the small child in my arms.

A nurse returns, and Hazel talks to her while I stood playing with our son’s finger, “We need to administer a DNA test.”

I tense up at her words. It doesn't matter to me, but it will still be nice to know. If I don't find out, I’ll always be curious.

“No problem,” the nurse replies. “We will need a swab sample from him.” She nods her head toward me.

I hand the baby back to Hazel and pull up my sleeve.

“Come on. Stick me. Swab me. Whatever you need to do,” I say, trying to hide my flash of annoyance. I want to enjoy this moment with my child, and I hate that I have to do this stupid test.

But, ultimately, the test meant we would finally know, one way or the other. All of the uncertainty, speculation, worry, and frustration is now coming to a head. We will finally know the identity of the child’s father.

Nervousness plays across Hazel’s face. I bend to kiss her on the lips as reassurance. The one evident thing is that Hazel and I both love this baby. There’s no doubt this baby will be in an environment of love and support.

As I stand with my sleeves rolled up, I can’t help but wonder how I would react if the news came back that I wasn’t the father. Something happened when that boy came into the world. I felt it. I would raise the boy as my own no matter what. I would love him until the end of time. But still, I felt nervous.

A swab was rubbed vigorously against the inside of my cheek. I’d assumed the test involved drawing blood from my arm, but modern technology made it easier and more reliable to conduct the swab test.

The nurse returned to me with a cotton swab. She inserted it into my mouth using a q-tip-like instrument. She rubbed the swab firmly against the inside of my mouth and then pulled it out. Immediately, she secured the swab in a lab container and walked off with it.

I called out to her. “Ma’am, how long before we get the results?”

The nurse stopped and turned back toward us. “We should have the results in the morning.”

“Mav...it’s gonna be alright,” Hazel whispered from the hospital bed. She was still holding the baby. “Look at our child. He even looks like you.”

I walk back over to the bed and gently stroke his tiny arm. She’s right. He does look like me, although it’s hard to tell. Not all his features are in play yet.

“He does look like me a little, doesn’t he?”

Another nurse comes in. “I’m sorry, but we need to take the baby to the nursery. He’s premature, and we need to monitor him overnight.”

Hazel closes her eyes. “You mean you’re taking my baby away from me for the entire night?”

The nurse, understanding her concern, replies, “Yes, I’m sorry, but he will be in the nursery. You both can come in and check on him as often as you’d like. After we monitor him for one night, if all is well, he can come back in here with you tomorrow.”

“How long do we have to stay here?” Hazel inquires. The nurse explains it depended on how the baby progressed. Hazel’s wellbeing also had to be monitored.

Once the nurse left, Hazel’s eyelids start to droop. She has to be exhausted. Every ounce of strength has been zapped from her in delivering the baby.

“Sleep,” I encourage. “And when you wake up, we can go see him again.”

She yawned and relaxed into the bed. A moment later, she was asleep. I scrolled through my phone as Hazel slept. We’d been throwing out baby names for a while, but nothing had stuck. As I looked up names, one stuck out. Kane. It sounded strong, just like my son would be, but unlike me, he wouldn’t learn to be tough out of necessity like I had. He’d be strong because he’d have everything he’d need to be successful. He had a mother who would surely spoil him and a father who would teach him all about life.

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