Golden Gooses

5

     Dazedly, Miranda hobbled out of the car clutching Evan with a worried Timothy beside her, offering a firm forearm around her for support again. They trudged up the stairs to their dingy yet homely apartment complex. Timothy shuffled around for the key to their part of the complex in his pocket. He grew frustrated as he continued to rummage around his pocket, the stress and anxiety about his wife he just couldn't shake exasperating him. He finally pulled it out, sighing. He inserted it and opened the door. Miranda scrambled inside, exhausted and desperate to go and collapse in her bed. She dropped Evan's carrier beside the door. "You can handle him, can't you?" Miranda interrogated, having the least drop of faith in her husband. "Yeah. You should go sleep, you obviously need some." Miranda turned to her husband, her tone stern. "And remember, if he starts crying—" "Check his diaper. If that's not it, get him some formula in the fridge. If all else fails, put him in his crib. I got this!" Timothy interrupted, prideful in his skills. Miranda sighed with relief and slunk to their bedroom. Timothy bent down and carefully picked up Evan from his carrier, trying not to jostle him. His attempts were in vain, however, as Evan woke up as soon as Timothy heaved him from the carrier. He began to wail, getting red in the face as he sobbed. Timothy froze, staring at his crying child as he delved into his memory to retrieve the instructions Miranda had given him. Uhhhhhh... diaper! Check his diaper! He thought. He placed Evan back in his carrier. He unwrapped the blanket from around Evan, and then took off his diaper. The apartment was quite chilly and it aggravated Evan's crankiness. Evan went from wailing to shrieking, bolts of electricity shooting out from his body on queue with his cries. Timothy jumped back, surprised, his eyes as wide as saucers. When the literal smoke had cleared, rising off of Evan, Timothy sat and stared at his carrier cautiously while clutching his chest, panting. What was that?! He had thought, frightened. Is Evan all right?! He thought, scrambling over to the carrier. He picked up Evan, who was to his relief and dismay, completely unharmed. His cries had died down, now just the fussy huffs of a colicky baby. Too tired to investigate what had caused the sparks, he grabbed Evan and walked to the cozy nursery he and Miranda had made. He placed the also tuckered-out Evan into his cloud white crib, who was already sleeping soundly again. Taking a deep breath, he left the nursery and went to go to sleep with Miranda, as they had long days ahead of them. 

     Timothy woke up without needing an alarm surprisingly. The sun's soft rays peeked through the blinds, waking him. He sat up and yawned, turning to the spot where Miranda had slept, though she wasn't in bed. She must've woken up earlier than me. He thought. He rolled out of bed and left the bedroom, going to pour himself some coffee. The house was calm and quiet. Sunlight illuminated the house. The birds chirped pleasantly as he took a sip of his rich and smooth coffee. Today was gonna be a good day. 

That was before the shrieks of his wife disturbed the peace. 

 "TIMOTHY!" she exclaimed, enraged. He closed his eyes, accepting his fate. He set his coffee mug down and went into the living room where an infuriated Miranda waited. She was holding the scorched tatters of what was left of the carrier. "I leave you to take care of Evan for what? At most, 10 minutes? How did you destroy his carrier in such a short amount of time?! No, how did this happen at all?! This is burnt. How did you manage to burn it?! How do you screw up that bad?!" She scolded, crossing her arms while staring daggers at Timothy. "I know you won't believe me but I have no idea how that happened. I'm just as confused as you." Timothy tried explaining. "How are you confused?! The only way this could've happened is if you somehow flame-grilled our son—" Miranda paused her tirade, remembering something. "Where. Is. Evan." She questioned, Timothy freezing at the chill of her voice. "H-he should be in the nursery—" Miranda shoved Timothy aside, stomping to the nursery. She burst through the door and yanked Evan out of his crib, inspecting him for injuries. When she didn't catch anything, she rocked Evan in her arms to stop him from crying after suddenly being awoken. "I don't understand how the carrier got banged up so badly but Evan is fine, so it must've been something out of your control. I'm sorry for accusing you." Miranda apologized sheepishly, mumbling. Timothy chuckled, a hint of unease in his voice. "It's fine, you're stressed. I'm stressed too. We'll get through this together." Miranda nodded. "But, I'm still taking care of Evan today." She teased before walking out of the nursery, Evan in tow. Timothy left the nursery as well and went to go take a closer look at the scorched carrier, finding that the sparks that flew and burnt it are more than a coincidence.