Page 7 of The Surrogate Omega, Part Two

“Well, don’t. And you just being here is a comfort to me, so be yourself.” River lets out a watery laugh and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. “Though I am kinda pissed that you’re not going through hormonal crying.”

“Hormonal crying?” I ask.

“Yeah, when you cry over literally nothing. I cried once because Cooper ate the last Pop-Tart.”

I scrunch my nose in confusion. “You don’t even like Pop-Tarts.”

“I know! That’s the whole point. There is literally zero reason for me to cry over that, but I did. It’s just a little irritating if you don’t experience it.”

Unsure of how to respond, I just shrug and say, “I’m still very early on. It can still happen.”

This seems to perk River up. “True. It’s hard to imagine though.”

I shrug again and keep going through the boxes. I am interested to see what side effects I do have as this goes along. I make a mental note to look at research on identical twins and pregnancies to see any commonalities. Of course, with River and me being male, it might be completely different, but it’s still fascinating.

River and I are just about done when Dad gets home with Miri. She’s sound asleep in her car seat and is wearing a knit hat that looks like a strawberry.

“Who made the hat?” I ask River because it looks homemade and I’m not aware that any of us knit.

“Avery’s grandma, actually. Cooper was like another child for her so she’s just one more person on the spoil the shit out of Miri list.” River grins. “At least now her attention will probably be on the new baby. The hats are adorable, but we only need so many.”

I purse my lips, wondering exactly how many hats his grandmother knitted, and then realize that’s not my concern. Once the baby is born, he or she will be living with Avery and Zoe, obviously, so it will be up to them to find a place to store an overabundance of knit hats, not me.

Dad comes and sits on the couch between us and starts to sort through our piles. “Wow, look at all of this. I don’t think I realized just how much I kept.”

“We found the album with the pictures of Mom’s last Christmas. Do you want to see it?” River asks quietly.

Dad smiles sadly but nods his head. “Yes. I haven’t looked at them in years.”

River hands over the album and both of us watch as he goes through the pictures. His eyes are sad, but he is smiling. “We should keep this out. I’m sure Essie would love to see this, and Miri when she’s old enough.”

“Yeah, I’m sure Essie will love the red-velvet dress,” River snarks.

Dad laughs. “Well, it’s better than the matching green sweaters the three of us have on.”

“They made Mom happy though.”

Dad looks at me, his face somber. He squeezes my shoulder. “Yes, they did. This would make her happy too, seeing the three of you grown, successful, and starting families. She would’ve been so proud.”

River is tearing up again. “Gods, I can’t stop crying. I would’ve thought my hormones would’ve regulated by now.”

Dad shrugs. “It takes some time, I think. It was different with your mom, since she was already sick when she had Essie, but I remember my sisters complaining about it for months after they had their kids.”

River throws himself back on the couch dramatically. “Ugh.”

We let Dad go through the stuff for a few minutes. He chooses to keep most of the unsure pile but does get rid of a few things. I promise myself I’ll organize everything he’s keeping before he shoves it back up in the attic.

After a while, Miri wakes up and needs a bottle and a diaper change. Once River comes back, with a smiley Miri in his arms, he gives me a significant look. I know he’s asking me if I’m ready to talk to Dad about this group. I nod, indicating I am.

River sits back down. Before he can start, I speak. We already agreed it would be more impactful if it came from me, so I need to be the one initiating the conversation.

But as everyone who knows me can attest to, subtly is not my strong suit. “Dad, River and I think you need to make more friends.”

Dad stares at me, his mouth partially open, while River groans and covers his face. “Gods, Lake. Really?” he mutters into his hands.

“Sorry?”

River gives a very dramatic put-upon sigh. “What Lake means is we’re worried, Dad.”

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