Page 58 of Storm

Good enough for me. I drop the kit into my empty cart and push it forward to the next section in the baby aisle. Picking up a box with round, cotton looking stickers, I hold it up to him. “What’s this for?”

“Th-Those are, umm, those are for moms.” He looks around, then leans forward. “You know, when they’re leaking.”

I jerk my head back. “Theyleak?!” I shout, and this kid bursts out laughing. “What the hell leaks on them?”

He grabs the box and turns it around so I can read the front. “Washable nursing pads,” I read out loud, then wait on him to explain.

“Come on, man, do you really need me to explain?”

“Yes,” I say seriously. I know absolutely nothing about babies and new moms, so if this is important for her, I’m going to get it.

Sighing, he moves closer to my side and lowers his voice. “Those are pads that nursing moms put in their bras in case they leak in between feedings. It helps so their tits… uhh, so their breasts don’t leak through their shirts.” He looks away, embarrassed. “Sorry about that.”

With a wave, I dismiss his apology. “No worries. Tell me more about nursing and leaking.”

“Do you want me to get a woman to help you out here? I really don’t know a lot. I just started like a month ago.”

Holding up the box, I wave it in front of his face. “You know about tits needing pads.” Then I toss it into the cart and grab his shoulder to drag him along with me as I turn down a new aisle, then stop when I see about fifty different bottles lining the shelves. “Help me find all the shit I need for my baby and I’ll slip you a hundred bucks.”

“Done. Okay, so, when is your girl due?”

Grinning at my newfound friend, I just shrug. “I don’t know. She’s only a few months, but we have to get everything ready.”

“Do you know if it’s a boy or girl? There are things for different genders, or gender neutral if you don’t care about colors.” He’s speaking as he walks past each brand of bottle and cups his chin to read the labels. “You’ll want something that’s easy to clean and doesn’t let the baby suck in a bunch of air.” Proudly, he turns to me. “They taught me that in the first week. Air makes babies cranky.”

Nodding, I follow him with my cart, the wheel squealing every few feet. “Whatever you think is best. But we should get stuff to clean the bottles too, right?”

“Oh, definitely,” he chimes in, then bends down to pick out a cleaning kit and drops it in my cart. “Honestly, I would wait on bottles. There are different sized nipples and some babies prefer certain ones over others.”

I furrow my brows and look over everything. “Let’s just get a variety and that way we can figure out which one works. Oh, and I’m having a boy, so I want boy shit for him.”

“Got it.” Plucking a few different boxes from the shelves, he drops them in and adds a larger one. When I look at him in question, he says, “It’s a bottle warmer. It’s so that you don’t overheat the milk and burn the baby’s mouth when they swallow it.”

“OhGod!” I cry, then nod my head quickly. “Thank you so fucking much…” I trail off, and he offers his name.

“Will, and you’re welcome. Okay, let’s go look at diapers and stuff. That’s always important.”

Snorting out a laugh, I follow him and tease, “Lead the way, Willy.”

He chortles out a laugh, then snaps his fingers. “Oh yeah. Speaking of willy, I saw this thing the other day that I for sure thought was a joke, but I see so many moms buying them.” He rushes away and I jog to catch up. Yanking a small box off the shelf, he hands it to me.

“The fuck is this?” I ask, unsure if it’s legit.

Tapping the picture, he says, “It’s called a peepee teepee. There’s this thing baby boys do when you take off their diaper. Something about the air hitting their skin, but they just start peeing and that shit apparently goeseverywhere. So you cap it.”

“Cap it,” I repeat, not entirely following. When it sinks it, my eyes fly to him, widening in surprise. “Theypisseverywhere?”

Shuddering, he closes his eyes. “Apparently.”

“Gross.”

“Agreed. How many you want?” He starts pulling out more boxes and I just shake my head, trying to wrap my mind around pee soaring through the air.

I answer the only way I can. “All of them.”

We drop every last box into the cart and keep going. By the time we’re done, Willy and I are pushing around two overflowing carts, stopping every few feet so I can pick up the rubber ducky bath thermometer as it falls out over and over again.

“Oh, that’s cool,” I say, stopping just before we make it to the checkout lane. There’s a framed poster of a baby elephant wearing military camos. “I need that too.”

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