Time To Live

Chapter 12: Ma

Again, Chris was standing outside of a building that he did not want to enter. Well, he did want to enter it, but the physical act of walking from his car to the door and ringing the doorbell might just kill him. His sneakers felt like they were encased in concrete blocks and his heart was racing the Indy 500. He went to clear his throat and choked as he forced his finger to stab at the tiny black button beside the door. Then he waited. 

He was horrified when, after five minutes, there was still no response. Shit! Was he going to have to try to lift his arm to push the doorbell again? That might be physically impossible. Worse yet was the idea of driving away and having to force himself to repeat all of this again at a later date; the stress alone might trigger him into a heart attack. Pathetically, he raised his fist to knock but his hand was suspended in air and he was unable to finish the routine movement.

As if in answer to his unspoken fears, the door clanged open and he was met with his would-be sister-in-law, holding a very alert-looking ten-month-old in one arm and a Corona in the other. She looked him up and down several times without saying anything, and then she let out a loud hiss. "Jesus fucking Christ, what are you doing here?"

Chris stared at her, wide-eyed. "I, uh, I came, uh, to see, uh, Jenna?" He shifted on his heels and jammed his hands into the pockets of his black jeans. "You, uh, gave me the, uh, address?"

"Generally, people call first before arriving at someone's doorstep unannounced." Angie handed Chris the beer and jostled the baby in her arms. "She's clearly not here, kiddo. I'm sorry. She's on a, uh, she's not here."

"She's on a date." Chris nodded slowly, turning the words over and feeling bile rising up his esophagus.

Angie looked sheepish, but she nodded in agreement. "She only left about twenty minutes ago, so come on in. We're safe!"

She shut the door behind him, then grabbed her glass bottle forcefully from his hand. "Trade me. I want my booze and you can have your kid."

Chris was awkward but careful when he allowed her to transfer the baby boy into his long arms. Shocked and superbly nervous, he took a moment to breath his son in. He was heavier than Chris had expected, probably hovering somewhere around 20 pounds. He had a very full head of dark brown hair, shaggy and curling in spots, and the biggest chocolatey brown eyes that Chris had ever seen. The baby shoved his fist into his mouth, chomped down, then let out a noise that actually sounded like, "Ma."

Angie shrugged. "That's all he can say so far, so don't get yourself excited!"

She gestured down to the sofa and he tried very hard to fall into the seat elegantly, fighting not to jostle his son too badly. When they landed, Christian extracted his hand from his mouth and wiped the slime that coated his tiny knuckles all over Chris' lips. At this, Chris made a disgusted face and noise and stuck his tongue out while doing so.

Christian began giggling and shrieking, clapping his hands and bouncing in his father's lap.

Angie smiled. "Oh, he likes you!"