Page 79 of Tarek

“You’re doing great Ily you got this,” I whisper to her, with a pale face she smiles up at me.

“Oh, looks like we have some crowning. This is going to be quick,” the doctor says.

A nurse instructs me to hold her leg to her chest. While the other nurse did the same. People say that when a man sees his baby for the first time. Everything changes. They were right it’s like everything around me was in slow motion, as I saw the dark hair crowning, then my child’s face.

Ilyana’s screams cut through my thoughts, bringing me back to the present.

“Push,” the doctor commands. Ilyana lifts up her head, and squeezes her eyes shut, her teeth are clenched. She lets out a strained grunt as she fights to bring our child into the world.

As she collapses back to the bed, Ilyana eyes meet mine.

“I love you, Dereck,” she says loudly for the room of nurses and doctor to hear. I haven’t told her I loved her. Because I don’t. Ever calculating, Ilyana says I love you in a room full of witnesses to an important event.

My stomach twists because she thinks that I was there for her. On the contrary I was here for the birth of my child, since I missed the other. I care about her, that’s a fact, but I don’t love her.

“You’re doing great honey,” That’s all I can reply. I can see the clouds of hate gather in her eyes.

“One last push,” the doctor says.

Guilt flares into me, I watch my wife bearing the pain of bringing my child into this world. What I am experiencing here is a privilege. I am privileged enough to be a father…again.

A small cry erupts into the room.

“It’s a boy, and he is so handsome. Congratulations,” I follow the nurses as they clean up my son and wrap him in a blanket.

“He’s beautiful.” He really was. He has black hair and silvery eyes like mine. I have another son, a son who can carry out my name. A son that I can love in public.

“Dereck,” Ilyana calls me.

I blink trying to connect the moment with an emotion. There should be a crashing of love I feel for my wife. The nurse passes the baby to her. I look down at my small family, my wife wipes her tears, and she rubs the head of our son softly.

My wife looks up at me smiling, her eyes shining with love. This should be one of the happiest moments of my life. I feel happy but not completely.

I bend over to look at my son, my arm settles to the back of her pillow.

“Isn’t he beautiful, Dereck?” she asks as she beams up at me.

“He sure is.”

My gaze meets hers, through the watery tears I can hear the question, “Who do you love more the baby or me?”

I pray that she doesn’t ask this out loud, because my answer will always be my son.

Ilyana’s mouth opens and the doctor’s voice interrupts us.

“You have a beautiful son. Do we have a name?” The doctor’s smile beams brightly.

A name? Do we have a name?

* * *

TAREK

The seared chicken sizzles in the pan, the aroma of balsamic vinegar and cumin teases the senses.

When I asked her, your place or mine, I expected her to say my place. Most women want to see where I live or dwell in my space. With Penny, it’s different. I took an hour to reorganize her shelves and label some ingredients in the cupboard.

Nat King Cole’s rich voice fills the air as he sings about the acronym LOVE and all the cheesy things that it means.

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