At twenty-seven, YouTube sensation Ben Leonards is married to his work. If he's not whipping up lasagna with a side of science experiments, he's running statistical analysis of bitcoin during explosive behavior periods.
When a friend asks him to org...
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I knock on the door. My knuckles are sore from punching through the boards with the kids at the dojang this morning. Two white cardboard boxes in my hands are full of eclairs, cannoli, and cupcakes. Mom insisted I bring Angie something.
"Come on in," a voice shouts from inside the room.
I put the boxes on one of my hands and hold on to the top lid with my chin to free my other hand and open the door. The room is full of people. Don't they monitor how many can be inside? Tall's nurses said he couldn't have more than two visitors at a time.
This looks more like a party than a visit to a hospital facility, and the room is way too small for the five people who are already inside. Where is the baby? Or a place for a baby to sleep? Where can I put down the boxes? The only available surfaces— the bedside table and a tray the patient can move to eat on—are on the opposite side of the bed from me. Am is standing at the foot of Angie's bed, and a bulky medical-grade trashcan is behind her, blocking the walkway.
"Last but not least." Angie greets me, and I know she doesn't mind that I didn't get here first thing in the morning. I was subbing for Mike at the dojang because he was in no shape to do so after the night they had. The kids wanted to know about the baby, and I promised I would have photos the next time I see them. Moving with students through meditation, stretching, and basic punches and kicks woke me up better than any coffee would have.
"Where's the baby?" I ask.
"She's in NICU. You can go visit, but it's two visitors at a time."
At least one department in this hospital has some sense. Two visitors at a time is a much better policy. Does baby Kora have hair, or is she bald? She will grow up to be tall if Mike and Angie's height is any indicator, but being three weeks early, she's probably smaller than Alex was when I first saw him. Jaimie and her husband aren't short either, but they are a head shorter than Kora's parents. I nod at the door.
"Can we go now?"
"I thought you were visiting me, but with you, it's all about the baby, isn't it? You're going to spoil Kora more than you spoil Alex. I can't wait for you to have kids of your own." Angie's smile is wide, along with the smiles on her parents' and Mike's faces. Kids of my own. She worded it as if it's not a dream but a plan, as if I can be a father—will be a father. A good father.
Am isn't smiling. She's focused on the boxes in my hands.
"This is for you." I stretch the boxes toward Angie. "The leftover desserts from the party. I don't think you got to try my cannoli."
Angie laughs, winces, and glances at her husband.
"Give them to me," says Mike.
"I'll eat one as soon as the doctor clears me for food," she says. "Anyone else wants dessert?"
"I'd have a cannoli, especially if you made them," says Rose.
"I'd have one too," says Fred.
The box makes rounds among them, and the sweet smell of ricotta, vanilla, and pastry fills the room. Mom was right—bringing something was a great idea. There's a knock at the door, and a nurse peeks in.
