When You Went Away

by Michael Baron

  “Your what?”

  “My birthday. I thought I’d tell you now in case you wanted to get me something that required special ordering.”

  “Thanks for the heads-up.”

  After I put down the phone, I watched a bit more of the game before I did my nightly check of my home e-mail account. Nothing new from Tanya. I wrote for a while in her journal and returned to the television just in time to see the final out of another Yankee loss.

  Would it have been even more fun to talk to Ally about this if the team were playing better?

  TWELVE

  A Little Impaired

  It didn’t dawn on me that I had no contingency plan if Lisa got sick until it happened. I had just showered and Reese lay in my bed having his first bottle when she called to say that she had a 102-degree fever.

  Irony demanded that this happen on a day when there was a huge amount to do in the office. I needed to deliver the next month’s budget numbers by the end of the week, several critical deadlines on the Christmas catalog were imminent, and I was in the middle of completing the specifications for the first new product proposal I came up with since I returned. I really didn’t have the luxury of a day off. But since I didn’t have a contingency plan, I also didn’t have any choice.

  As I called Ben to tell him I would be out, I realized that, if I was going to get as much work done from home as possible, I needed a bunch of paperwork from the office.

  “Listen, I’m going to swoop in for a couple of seconds in an hour or so. I need you to pull together all the new product data and all of my budget worksheets and have them in one place for me by then.”

  “Are you sure? I can bring them to your house if you want.”

  “No, then my office will be completely unmanned. If you’re coming here, it had better be to babysit.”

  “I think both of us know that would be a mistake.” “My point exactly. I’ll be there by ten.”

  It should have been easy to get Reese out of the house. After all, doing this was no different from running errands on the weekend, something we usually did smoothly and efficiently. But it took an absurdly long time.

  First, he squirmed and rolled over constantly while I tried to dress him. He was definitely no longer the sack of flour of a couple of months earlier.Now he was in so much motion that getting him into clothes was a little like playing that Whac -A-Mole arcade game – one second you think his arm is going into his sleeve and suddenly it’s down where his leg is supposed to be. Then, once I finally shoehorned him into his outfit, he spit up on the front of it, managing to catch the sleeve of my shirt at the same time. This required changing both of us, though admittedly getting a shirt on myself was a breeze. Then, as we got into the car, he pooped in his diaper. I seriously considered letting him sit in it for the round trip, but didn’t think the smell would send the proper message to any colleagues I encountered. Of course, the bowel movement was very loose and of course, it leaked through to his pant leg, requiring a third change for both of us.

  And then, as we left the neighborhood, I remembered that I had no more diapers in the bag I kept in the car. Part of me wanted to play the hunch that he wouldn’t have another dirty diaper in the next hour. But the part that envisioned Reese leaking onto Marshall’s arm proved more persuasive. I turned the car around.

  I didn’t get to the office until closer to 10:30, at which point I barreled into the building as if I were late for a meeting with the Board of Directors. I eschewed the BabyBjörn thing and carried Reese in my arms, smiling at the people I passed, but deflecting any effort made by anyone to stop to see the baby.

  I also studiously avoided passing Marshall’s office, which meant taking the long way around to mine. I knew he was going to be unhappy with my being out and I was sure that the absolute most inflammatory thing would be to show up anywhere near him carrying my son.

  “Everything ready?” I said to Ben as I approached his desk.

  “Hi, yeah. It’s all in your office.”

  “Thanks.”

  He followed me in. “So this is Reese, huh? He looks different from his pictures.”

  “He looks different from two hours ago. That’s the way it works at this age.”

  “Jeez, so you go away for a few days and it’s like there’s a stranger in the house, huh?”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  The phone rang and Ben went to his desk to take it. I pulled together the papers he gathered for me and then remembered a computer file that I needed. Still holding Reese and the papers in my arms, I reached down to boot up my computer.

  “Need a hand?”

  I looked up to see Ally standing in the doorway.

  “Word is out that there’s a guy with a baby traipsing through the building. I used my keen deductive powers to determine that it was you.”

  I stood up and realized that Reese had been trying to get my computer mouse in his mouth. “Actually, I really could use a hand.”

  Ally walked over and took Reese from me, gently separating him from the mouse at the same time. I expected him to scream about this, but he was fine. She walked him toward my couch while I started the machine.

  “He’s gorgeous,” she said.

  I looked over to see him standing on her lap and playing with her hair. Ally shook her head briskly, which sent strands of hair into his face and made Reese chuckle. As it seemed most adults were prone to do, she immediately did it again, getting a louder response.

  “Thanks.”

  “He has your eyes and your chin. Fortunately, he didn’t get your nose.”

  “There’s something wrong with my nose?”

  Ally rubbed her nose against Reese’s, causing him to laugh again, and said, “It looks better on a grownup than it would on a baby. Do you like to fly, Reese?” Ally raised him over her head and swept him back and forth in front of her. His eyes stayed locked on hers and he smiled the entire time.

  I turned to send the file I needed to my home email account, and then decided to make a copy on disk just in case something was wrong with my email. When I finished, I shut down the machine and sat with the two of them.

  “He really is incredibly cute,” she said.

  “You might not have felt that way an hour ago.”

  “Of course I would have. How could he be anything but cute?” Reese settled on Ally’s lap and attempted to eat one of the buttons of her blouse. She was right, of course. He was usually cute. She playfully batted Reese away from her button and he pawed her hand in return. They did this a couple of times before Reese’s attention fixed on something else.

  “Do you spend a lot of time around kids?”

  “I have a niece that I just love. She’s four now. Other than that, no.”

  “I have no idea what he’s going to be like when he’s four.”

  Reese suddenly dove forward and Ally moved quickly to keep him from falling. Most people who didn’t have kids would have nervously handed him over at that point. But Ally turned Reese on his lap so he faced her and then leaned down to him and said, “Don’t jump.” Then she looked up at me and said, “What’s going on?Why’d you bring him here?”

  “Lisa is on the DL. It’s just me, the boy, and 37 hours of work that I need to do today. He has your necklace.”

  Ally reached up to touch the hand that held her gold chain, but didn’t pry it loose. “Kids like shiny things, right?” she said to me. “Anything I can help you with?”

  “Yeah. If you want to do the noon-to-eight shift I’ll pay you a lot of money.”

  “I would in a second,” she said, nuzzling Reese again, which may or may not have been her way of getting him to let go of her necklace. “I’ve got two production meetings today, though. Any office thing I can help you with?”

  “No, I need to do this all on my own. Thanks for the offer, though.”

  “Ready to fly again?” she said to Reese before lifting him over her head. He laughed. “He has a great sense of humor.”

  “Act
ually, he’s flirting. You’re seeing his B+ moves right now.”

  “They’re working. Hey Reese, why don’t the two of us split this joint?”

  I laughed. Reese was having more and more trouble with strangers, but while he was with Ally, he didn’t even notice I was in the room. Impulsively, I said, “Hey, how about coming with us on a picnic Saturday afternoon?”

  Ally looked over at me while Reese was still in midair. “Really? That would be fun.”

  “Yeah, it would. The weather is supposed to be nice this weekend and obviously you and my son have a little thing going.”

  She kissed him on the cheek and then sat him on her lap again. “I’d love it. Is he our chaperone?”

  I rolled my eyes.While she was graceful about my request to confine our friendship to the office, she didn’t let me forget it. “I wasn’t necessarily thinking of it that way.”

  “Well, it works for me. When and where?”

  “Stay tuned for more.” I stood up. “I hate prying the two of you apart, but I have a ton of work to do and I’m going to be a little impaired at home. I’d better get going.”

  “Yeah, of course.” She leaned forward to kiss the baby on the top of the head and then handed him to me. “Nice meeting you, Reese.”

  “You guys can hang out all afternoon on Saturday.” “I look forward to it.”

  • • •

  There was one time when events conspired to require me to work from home when Tanya was little. Maureen was in bed with the flu and we had no regular babysitter to call on. I needed to complete a report and, with the nervousness born of a still-emerging career, stressed over the thought that Tanya, two-and-a-half at the time, wouldn’t let me do it. But she turned out to be great about occupying herself and playing nursemaid to her mother. I made enough progress by early afternoon that I took her to an indoor playground for the rest of the day.

  It turned out that Reese wasn’t nearly that cooperative. I gathered his favorite toys and brought them with us into the library, settling him down on his playmat. Staying in one place was not something that Reese did at all anymore. And there turned out to be a surprising number of items in the library under which he could become stuck. In fact, it almost seemed as though he was doing this intentionally in a sort of infant form of hide-and-seek.

  When it became clear that working in the library with him was futile – I had barely reviewed my notes – I tried the family room. This was Reese’s home turf, unquestionably his favorite room in the house. He could spend hours in here at a time, rolling over and exploring things, sitting with his play phone or his rings. In the past, he’d even complained a few times when I tried to move him. But that would not be the case today. More and more often recently, Reese propped himself on his arms, rocking forward as though attempting to crawl, but not actually moving anywhere. He seemed to enjoy this and often smiled broadly or even laughed when he got up on his hands and knees. Today, however, he found this exercise consistently frustrating and he spent a great deal of time grunting and whimpering. He would be okay if I sat him up and he wouldn’t even attempt to crawl while I was there. But as soon as I returned to the couch and my blank yellow legal pad, he’d get back into position and resume his fussing.

  I actually accomplished a tiny bit during his nap. But it was only a tiny bit because the nap – which could run as long as three hours on certain days – lasted all of forty-five minutes. After that, I tried his swing, but he’d essentially outgrown that device, and then the television.Which didn’t interest him because there was no baseball game on.

  I’m not the kind of person who requires absolute silence in order to concentrate. But I do require time. I don’t think well when regularly interrupted. The upshot was that by 2:00 that afternoon, I had accomplished almost nothing. And the pressure I already felt over these deadlines (accompanied by the guilt over skipping another day at the office) mounted. This was when Reese decided to have his meltdown. He simply started crying uncontrollably. None of his toys distracted him and it wasn’t okay if I just sat on the floor with him anymore. The only thing that soothed him was my holding him and walking around the house. I did this for a while and then settled him back on his playmat. The screaming began again nearly as soon as I returned to the couch.

  And my frustration got the best of me. I didn’t expect him to babysit himself while I worked, but I did expect him to do a little more hanging out than he was doing. I could only imagine Marshall’s response if I walked in the next day without the budget figures because my son wouldn’t let me do them. I picked Reese up from the playmat, plopped him into his crib, and then, for the first time ever, I yelled at him. He seemed stunned by this. Of course, he didn’t know what I was saying, but one of his stuffed animals could have understood the intent of my words. He stared at me, frightened for a moment, and then his face collapsed on itself and he bawled. I threw up my arms and left the room.

  I didn’t stay away very long. I flung myself back on the couch and tried to work, but I couldn’t even begin to do so over the sound of his screaming. And though I knew that what he really needed was more rest and that there was a very good chance that he’d cry himself to sleep in a few minutes, I simply couldn’t do it. I went back to his room, took him out of his crib, and walked him around until he calmed.He still heaved when I held him in front of me and said, “You are going to let me work tonight, right? Let’s go out and play for a while.”

  I packed him up and put him in his stroller. We went for a long walk around the neighborhood. The weather was spectacular, with signs of an early summer everywhere. Reese had a great time on this trip, pointing and gurgling incessantly. And while he did so, I actually got to think clearly about the budget for a few minutes.

  Which I was able to put to use when he finally went into his crib for the night. He slept soundly and I made good progress. I could have circumvented a lot of anxiety (for both of us) if I had simply planned to work at night all along, but I didn’t have the presence of mind to think that way. All I knew was that I couldn’t let my situation affect my job performance yet again. It was stupid. Certainly, I’d built up enough professional credit at Eleanor Miller that I could afford a little slump, even if Marshall made me feel like a slacker through the entire thing. And ultimately, one missed deadline wasn’t nearly as terrible as getting into a mode where I treated Reese impatiently.

  It wasn’t the first time I was thankful that Reese wouldn’t have any conscious memories of this period in our lives. The contradiction there, of course, was that I knew that everything we did together, even the smallest things – perhaps especially the smallest things – helped form him in some way. And the fact that he wouldn’t actually remember the things that formed him made it vital that I do my best not to traumatize him.

  It was at times like these that I fully understood the awesome responsibility of parenting. It was paralyzing. Fortunately, I didn’t have these moments of clarity terribly often.

  I think it’s safe to say that I grossly underestimated the value of a two-parent family. I’m not saying that I undervalued your mother, but I don’t think I fully appreciated how well we’d divided up the workload in the house or how comforting it was to know that there was always backup when I needed it. I hope she felt the same way.

  Your brother can be a challenge sometimes. You weren’t as needy as he is. He’s a great kid and sometimes he’s a real riot, but he wants to make sure that your eyes are always on him. I can only imagine that this will become even more necessary in the coming months, though at some point I’m sure I’ll be able to look at a magazine again without fear for his temperament or physical health. I really wish your mom were here to take some shifts with me.

  It’s important that you identify what the best things are in your life. The things that do more than just get you through the day. The things that make you want the next day to come. And once you identify those things, it’s critical that you nurture them and keep them strong. I think the thing that I c
herished most about your mother – beyond the loving and the counseling and the laughter – was the strength of our partnership. We performed as a team even before you were born and so much more so after that. And I do believe we very consciously served and maintained that partnership by talking and planning and giving each other breaks when necessary. I don’t recall ever having to ask your mother for a hand. She simply seemed to know how and when to pitch in. We were Lennon and McCartney, Magic and Kareem (that’s a basketball reference, by the way).

  I can’t possibly know what the best things are in your life. It isn’t important that I know, though I would love to. What is essential is that you know what they are and that you do everything you can to keep them being the best. Because if your best things go away and you don’t have any others to take their place, life can be pretty scary. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that I’m speaking from experience.

  Here’s the thing: you were one of my best things too. From the first moment I held you, I knew that you were irreplaceable. And as you grew and it became obvious not only how smart you were, but how well you could handle yourself even as a little kid, you became more precious to me. There was never a point in my life after you were born when I didn’t define myself by you and your mother. Even when we entered the Dark Period of your teenaged years. Even when your mother became pregnant with Reese. Even now.

  I know you’re special not only because you’re my kid, but also because you genuinely are. You’re wise, you’re considerate, and you made me proud in dozens of different ways. And even though I know I was a distant second in your heart (or maybe lower when your aunt or your grandparents were around, or maybe even lower than that after you started developing close friendships), you have always been one of my best and most cherished things.

  Guess I wasn’t always such a pro at maintenance, huh?

  THIRTEEN

  Life Support