That Spark

HERE

I awake to the sound of Buttons crying.

Slowly gaining consciousness, I pry my eyes open and try to focus on the alarm clock by my bedside. The green glowing spooky digits read 3:43 am, and I know that it's my shift. Rubbing my sleepy eyes, I lift myself up in bed with a sigh and glance over to my fast and comfortably asleep husband turned away from me on the right. I think of waking him up instead, but then abandon the idea. I didn't need Dean's frustrated sigh or all his complaints about going late to the hospital everyday just because his stay at home wife got lazy at 3:43 am. With another sigh, I leap out of bed and without a second thought make my way through the dimly lit hallway to the room adjacent; into Hayden's room.

"Hey, sweetheart . . ." I start keening right from the doorway. And like I had expected, her shrill cry stops all at once. When I reach her crib, Hayden is already looking for the owner of the voice in the dim with those big brown eyes. Buttons. Apt name. Dean thought so too. Another sigh comes on at the thought, but despite his relation with me, he made a remarkable father.

"Hey, honey bun . . ." I stretch my arms out with a smile and she willingly reaches out to me.

"Were you scared, Buttons?"

She makes a baby sound in response, wrapping her little arms around my neck. That was usually the reason. Hayden rarely woke up hungry. I feed her more than enough.

"Oh, I wish I smelled as good as you. That way daddy would kiss me too." I say, not aware of the words; however true as I inhale in her head. She makes another baby sound and sucks at my strapped shoulder.

"Hungry it is."

I conclude and walk us out the room and down the stairs to the kitchen, sitting Hayden down in her baby seat.

"How does warm milk sound right now?"

I ask, looking over my shoulder and heat up the milk. Hayden giggles, with her fingers in her mouth.

"Um, that's extremely adorable, but you're not allowed to do that, Buttons." I sing and pry her wrist out. She giggles again, taking it back in.

"You think that's funny, don't you? Here, let me try."

Hayden giggles louder as I bite gently on her fingers.

"Oh, you taste better than you smell . . . Maybe I'll eat you up, huh?" I move to her pink little face and bite at her cheeks. I laugh along with her, my nine month old baby, until I hear him.
"Who's making all that noise?"

Dean comes up from behind Hayden, only in his pajama pants and bends down to kiss the top of her head.

"Was it you, lollipop?"

Hayden keeps up the giggling as he tickles her, and I back away to the stove and pour the milk into her baby bottle. Without a word to me, Dean looks up and reaches his arm out for the bottle and I hand it to him in the same fashion. I watch with a small smile as he cradles her in his arms and feeds her, making his way up the stairs.

I think he thinks I owe him an apology. I mean, I can't stop a baby from giggling, can I? But he did say he had an important surgery tomorrow.

I sigh and lean against the counter with my arms crossed. I wish I could say that before we got married, Dean and I were high school sweethearts and that we were crazily in love and that we had tied the knot on our graduation day. And I wish I could say that he wasn't always like this and that it was after he was away for a month on one of those overseas doctors' conference things (They have those, right?) that he had changed, but no. It was an arranged wedding and my mother had sought him out. I never knew him before that and he has never been away from home especially since Hayden happened for more than a day. And Hayden happening--that was only possible because Dean's mother had literally nagged for a grandchild. Literally. And I don't want to sound judgmental, but on another note, it's almost as if he tries to avoid making love to me. And even that night, it was like he was unwilling and felt forced into when we were making Hayden.

And then the matter of talking. Barely a Nicholas Sparks novel worth of words a year. What am I supposed to do about that? I try to make it work, but that's what comes in between us. His work. But then again, it could be me too like my mother says.

I try not to give it too much thought, but it does get to me. I'm a stay at home mom, of course. Granted, Dean isn't the most expressive person in the world, but . . . it would feel good to feel wanted, I suppose. Every once in a while, atleast.

With yet another sigh at this delicate hour, I return upstairs and check in on them in Hayden's room. She is asleep in his arms and I know I'm not needed. I walk back with a heavy head to bed, empty and cold like every night.