Page 75 of Shattered Secrets
“I’m a dad!” he calls out. “You know, I was scared to hope after last time. I can’t believe he’s here.” Ryan beams.
I hug him, patting him on the back. “Congratulations, dear brother.”
“Come on.” He calls us to enter the room after him.
Ryan’s parents are already inside, sitting by the side of the bed. They get up when they see us enter, and I approach them for a hug.
“Ayala, these are Ryan’s parents, Jennifer and James Blake.” She says a polite hello. “Maya’s parents are on their way. They live in Miami.”
Maya is sitting in bed, her hair wild around her face. She’s pale and looks exhausted, but a happy and tired smile adorns her face.
In her arms, I see a small package wrapped in a blanket. A small face peeks out, and I move closer to take a look.
This is the cutest and crinkliest thing I’ve ever seen. I stare at the tiny face. I have never seen a newborn baby. He’s just so tiny.
“Want to hold him?” she asks, and I flinch. What do I know about babies?
She smiles. “Don’t worry, he won’t break.”
My hands are almost shaking as she hands me the small package, and I hold him tightly in my arms. He certainly looks fragile.
The first thing I notice is the smell. An unfamiliar smell, a smell that I have no other way to define than the smell of a new person.
The baby’s eyes are closed, and he makes tiny sounds. I don’t hold back and run a finger over his cheek. The skin is soft and delicate, like fine paper. I don’t know why, but the emotions rise in me at the sight of the tiny baby.
What if he was mine? I imagine a tiny face with huge blue eyes like Ayala’s. I can imagine a baby with her. Our own family.
I glance at her. She stands there, her eyes wide and glistening. This is surprising to me. I thought she would be at least as excited as I was. Well, maybe a little less than me. Ryan is like a brother to me. But still, how can you not be enthusiastic about this incredibly cute baby?
I return him to his mother’s arms. We say goodbye, giving the exhausted mother rest and time with her baby.
“Are you okay?” I ask Ayala when we reach the street outside. She hasn’t spoken since we arrived.
Her mouth opens, then closes again. Like she’s afraid to tell me something. I stop and take hold of her arm. “What?”
“You looked...happy.” She looks down at the ground. “You looked amazing. A man holding a baby, soft and loving. That perfect moment. That’s what you looked like. Perfect. And me? I’m broken. I can’t ever be a mother.”
“Ayala...” I pull her into my arms and kiss the top of her head. “We haven’t talked about children. And I didn’t ask you for a child tomorrow.”
She takes a step back. “You don’t understand.”
“Let’s talk about it at home? This is not a conversation to have on the street.”
The drive home passes in silence. I dare not start this conversation on the way. Instead, it’s better to use the time to think about what to say.
It felt good to hold that baby, but it’s not like I ever gave it a thought before. I didn’t even believe I could be in a relationship with someone, let alone want children. So this whole situation catches me by surprise.
Do I even want children? I think I’ll want them someday. But not right now. So what does that mean? All these thoughts confuse me.
Ayala plays with her fingers next to me. It’s bad. She always analyzes a situation and comes to the wrong conclusions. I just know she’s doing it again.
When we get home, I make chamomile tea for both of us. We both need something soothing.
She sits on a stool at the kitchen island, waiting for me to start.
“I saw that the whole situation stressed you today. But there’s no point in worrying. I wasn’t even thinking about children this soon, and I don’t think there’s anything to talk about right now.”
“Yes, we should,” she protests. “You’ll want children someday. Do you want to waste years of your life on a relationship that will lead nowhere?”
