by Geof Johnson
Then she turned her attention to nagging Carl.
Rachel thought he tolerated it okay until her mother insisted on buying a new kitchen table for them so that she could use the old one for sewing. “We don’t need another handout!” he’d complained to Rachel in private. When Carl’s temper neared the boiling point, Rachel pulled her mother aside and had a long talk with her.
The next morning, Carl’s mother-in-law said, “Carl, do you think you could build something for me?”
“Probably. What is it?”
“A gazebo.”
“Here?”
“Of course, where else?”
“We don’t have the money right now.”
“I want to pay for it.”
“I’d rather you didn’t,” he said tersely.
“I would really appreciate it. I’ve always wanted one, but my husband didn’t have the skills to build one.” She looked sadly at Carl. “I couldn’t have one at my condo. If you don’t build me one here, I’ll never have one.”
Carl inhaled deeply before saying, “What do you want one for?”
“The weather will be turning nice soon, and I would love to be able to read my Bible outside.”
“Why can’t you read on the deck?”
“The deck gets too much sun. It’s bad for my skin.” She clasped her hands. “Please? It’s always been a dream of mine. Will you do that for me?”
Please. She had used the magic word. It made all the difference. Carl scratched his chin. “How big do you want it?”
The next weekend, Carl was the happiest man in Hendersonville, as he and a friend from work built the gazebo. It was finished and painted by Monday night.
That evening, while Carl bathed the baby, Rachel and her mother stood in the gazebo, admiring Carl’s work.
“Rachel, can you take me to get a rocking chair for it tomorrow?”
“I think we should buy two.”
“Yes, I think it does need two.” She turned slowly and gestured at the building. “Carl does good work, doesn’t he?”
You do, too, Mom.
* * *
That Friday, Carl came home from work to find his wife sitting at the kitchen table with the phone in her hand, sad.
“Lisa just called,” she said. “Larry’s been transferred to New Jersey.”
“New Jersey’s cold,” Carl said.
“That’s what Lisa said.”
“When are they moving?”
“In two weeks. But it might only be for five years. Then they might be able to move back.”
“Two years is like ten to a Southerner.”
“That’s what Larry said.”
* * *
During Jamie’s one month checkup, the pediatrician suggested that it might be time to move him from the bassinet to sleeping in the crib in the nursery. She suggested that Rachel start him off with naps in his new room before making the full transition.
That afternoon, she put Jamie in the crib for the first time. Clamped to the headboard was a windup mobile, with little suns, moons and stars that slowly rotated while the music box played a song. She wound it up, and as it spun, she gently caressed Jamie and smiled at her little miracle. After about five minutes, the mobile stopped, so she wound it up again and tiptoed out of the room.
She went downstairs and sat on the couch, put the baby monitor beside her and tried to read a magazine. The next thing she knew, her mother was shaking her.
“Have you checked on the baby?” her mother asked. “He’s been down for almost two hours.”
“No.” Rachel rubbed her eyes. “I must have fallen asleep.” She heard tinkling music from the baby monitor. “Did you check on him?”
“No, I’ve been reading in the gazebo.”
“Well, somebody must’ve. I hear the mobile.”
Rachel went into the nursery and saw the mobile still spinning. Jamie was wide awake, fascinated by the solar system moving above him.
“You good little boy.” She picked him up. “Just being so quiet by yourself.”
When she went downstairs and told her mother about it. Evelyn said, “That’s odd. How did the mobile spin that long?”
Rachel shrugged. “What’s even odder is that he was focusing on the mobile. I mean, really looking at it. He was entranced. He’s too young to focus like that.”
“I guess our little boy is gifted.”
“Yes, he certainly is.”
* * *
One of Carl’s self-appointed tasks was bathing Jamie. Every night, right before bedtime, Carl took the boy to the upstairs bathroom and began their little ritual. Rachel liked to stand in the doorway and watch the show.
Carl put the baby bath in the big bath tub and ran some water in it while he took off Jamie’s clothes and diaper. Then he checked the water temperature, put the baby in, and sang.
“Splish splash baby’s taking a bath, on a about a…what night is it? Oh, a Tuesday night.
Rub-a-dub, there’s a baby in the tub, gonna get a washin’ just right.”
Rachel laughed. “Those aren’t the right words.”
“They are now,” Carl said. He continued his song. “Gonna wash him on his head, and a’ wash him on his nose, wash all his fingers, and wash all his toes, and then a splish splash. We’re done with the bath. Time to put the diaper back on. Yeahhh!”
Carl busted a dance move. “Look, he’s smiling!” he said.
“That’s just gas, Carl. He’s too young.”
“No, he’s smiling, I tell you.”
“He’s not the only one.”
Evelyn stood just outside the door, smiling.
“Do you have gas, too, Mrs. Wallace?” Carl said.
* * *
The next morning, Rachel was carrying Jamie to the kitchen when she heard a scratch at the door. She opened it and found a dog sitting on its haunches on the front porch.
“Hello, pup. You look like you’ve got a little bit of collie in you.”
The long-haired animal wagged its tail and whined.
“Whose doggie are you?” She leaned over, reaching for its tag. It stood up and tried to sniff Jamie.
“No, bad pup. You might hurt him.”
The dog sat and wagged again, tongue out, smiling the dog smile.
Rachel tried to grab the tag while holding Jamie safely away but it was too hard. Then the dog rolled over onto its back and put its paws in the air. Rachel was able to grab the tag. “It says your name is Sassy. There’s a phone number…can’t quite read it….” The dog rolled back upright and sat on its haunches again.
“Well, I can’t call your owner if you won’t let me read your tag, Sassy.”
Sassy whined again. Rachel glanced at Jamie and noticed he was looking at the dog and trying to reach for it.
“You want to see the pup?”
She carefully leaned forward, ready to pull back in a flash, but Sassy wasn’t making any aggressive moves. As she eased Jamie toward the dog, he had one clumsy arm extended toward it. Sassy licked Jamie’s hand.
“Oh!” Rachel said. Jamie smiled. She held him close again and the dog licked him full in the face. He made an awkward effort to wipe his face, but obviously enjoyed it. The dog’s tail wagged full tilt.
“Do you like the doggie, Jamie?” She looked and saw a woman running up the driveway.
“Sassy, you bad girl!” the woman said. “I’m so sorry.” She grabbed the dog’s collar. “She got out of the back gate.”
“It’s okay,” Rachel said. “No harm done.”
“I’m Jenny Stone. We live four houses down that way.” She motioned with her head.
Rachel introduced herself. “Stop by sometime. I think my boy likes your dog.”
“And vice-versa.” Jenny laughed, looking at her wagging dog.
* * *
That afternoon, Rachel was breast feeding Jamie in the nursery when the doorbell rang. After getting the baby down for his nap, she went downstairs and found a box by the front door.
&n
bsp; Her mother called from the laundry room, “UPS man came.”
“Oh good,” Rachel said. “This must be the materials for the new reading curriculum. I’ve got to review it before I go back to school.” She tried to pick it up. “Oof. It’s heavy.”
“Wait, let me help,” her mother said as she came through the hall.
They picked it up and Rachel said, “Let’s take it to the family room. I can unpack it there and start studying tonight.”
When they got to the family room, the phone rang. Rachel said, “Let’s just put it here by the porta crib for now.” Rachel answered the phone and forgot about the box.
* * *
Rachel helped her mother clean up after dinner while Carl got ready to bathe the baby, who was in the porta crib.
“Okay, big guy. Time for the tub.” Carl picked up his son and walked toward the stairs, but as he did, the unthinkable happened. Rachel turned just in time to see Carl’s foot catch on the heavy box by the crib. The whole event seemed to unfold in slow motion. As Carl fell, he lost his grip on Jamie, who went air born. Carl extended one arm to break his fall and the other toward his flying son, who was already too far away for Carl to have any hope of catching him. Rachel watched in horror as Jamie flew. And flew. And continued flying, in almost a straight line, like a production of Peter Pan, a wire tied to his waist and disappearing into the rafters, all the way to the couch, which was over ten feet away. He landed on the cushion and bounced.
“Jamie!” Rachel screamed, running to her baby. When she got to the couch, she reached for her son, but stopped momentarily. He was wiggling and smiling. She put her hands on her hips and said, “Did you enjoy that, young man?”
“Is he all right?” her mother said from behind her.
“How about me?” Carl said, picking himself up from the floor and shaking his wrist.
“Carl, you should be more careful!” Evelyn said. “He could’ve been hurt.”
“It’s not my fault. I didn’t see the box.”
“It’s my fault.” Rachel hugged her son. “I forgot we left it there.”
Carl felt his wrist and grimaced. “Well, he seemed to have a good time. I thought you said he was too young to smile like that.”
“He is,” Rachel said. “He’s too young to fly, too.”
Chapter 5
Rachel’s first day back at school was awful. Though she knew her mother would do an excellent job caring for her son, it pained her terribly to be away from him, so much so that she cried a little in the morning. And her new crop of kindergarten kids were not far removed from being babies themselves. They screamed, cried, messed up, messed themselves, and bounced around like pinballs.
They couldn’t sit still for instruction and couldn’t form a line if their lives depended on it. The worst came when the principal admonished her class for being noisy while walking back from lunch. It was humiliating.
All Rachel wanted to do when she got home was hold her little boy, but when she walked in the door, her mother told her he’d had just gone down for a nap. She rocked in the gazebo until he woke up, trying to forget her stressful day.
* * *
Two nights later, Carl came home late from work to find Rachel still up, sitting at the kitchen table with a pile of papers and a glass of wine in front of her.
Carl kissed her. “What are you still doing up? It’s almost eleven.”
“I have to look through this stuff. I have to schedule some field trips for kindergarten.”
“Again? You did that last year. Can’t someone else do it?”
“Apparently not.”
“Yes they can. They know that you won’t say no, so they stuck you with it.” He stroked her back. “I bet you’re the only teacher with a baby, too. Right?”
“Yes.”
“And even though you missed the first four weeks with maternity leave, they let this sit around and wait for you because they knew they could get away with it.”
“Well, I guess so, but it doesn’t sound good when you put it that way.”
“But that’s the way I see it.” He crossed his arms. “Honey, you need to learn to say no.”
“I can say no.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.” He decided to test her. He reached for her glass. “Can I have the rest of your wine?”
“Sure.”
“See, Rachel? That’s what I’m talking about.”
“In that case, no.”
“Would you like to come to bed?” He held out his hand.
“Yes.”
* * *
Carl loved sports. He played football and baseball in high school, and loved to watch sports on television. He especially loved to watch Tar Heel sports. Although he’d gotten his degree at the University of North Carolina at Charlotte, he was a Tar Heel born, a Tar Heel bred, and when he died he’d be Tar Heel dead. The big game in October was UNC at NC State, and it was going to be on television, Saturday at noon.
The only problem was that Carl had been up until dawn working a stakeout and had only gotten a couple of hours sleep, but that wasn’t going to stop him from watching his team. He’d love to watch it on the big TV in the family room, but he’d have to endure the reproachful glare of his mother-in-law, so he settled for the basement instead.
The basement, though nicely finished, wasn’t nicely furnished. It was bare except for an old, ugly couch and a small TV. He had a cardboard box for an end table and a bean bag to prop his feet on, but that was good enough for him.
Carl believed that is was his sacred duty as a father to indoctrinate his son in the culture of sports, so he figured that college football was the perfect place to start. By kickoff, Carl had everything he needed: his Carolina blue tee shirt, a bag of chips with dip, a large soda, and his son, sitting on his lap ready for the big game. Carl turned on the television and sat back for the action.
* * *
It’s two o’clock, Rachel thought. Haven’t heard a peep out of Carl for a while. I miss my little boy, too. She decided to check on them and see if they needed anything. When she got downstairs, she found Carl, horizontal on the couch, snoring, with Jamie asleep on his chest, television blaring. She kissed her two boys, turned the television off, and went back upstairs.
* * *
One of the most exciting things for Rachel about babyhood was Jamie’s first word. She knew it was probably going to be mama, since it is most babies’ first word. In nearly every language around the world, the word for mother starts with the letter M. It’s easy for babies to say, so she’d been told, but nothing could prepare her for the feeling she got when she heard her baby say it for the first time.
She was changing his diaper one day, listening to his endless stream of babble, when, mixed in with the gobbledygook, she heard it — mama. She almost dropped the baby powder.
“Did you say mama?”
He said it again.
“Mom! Jamie said mama!”
She picked him up and squeezed him as tightly as she could without hurting him. It was the most beautiful word she’d ever heard — mama — a symphony packed into two syllables. She would never forget that moment.
She told Carl about it that night, and he was as excited as she had been, though he spent the next two weeks trying to get him to say dada. He seemed to take it personally.
“It’s okay, Carl,” Rachel said. “Most babies say mama first.”
He looked at her and then back at the baby. “Jamie, say dada.”
“Mama,” Jamie said.
“Dada,” Carl said.
“Mama mama mama mama mama.”
“I give up.”
“Dada,” Jamie said.
Carl did the victory dance.
* * *
Jamie was crawling before Thanksgiving, and it made life more complicated at the Sikes’ house. Carl had to install baby gates at the stairs, top and bottom, put latches on the kitchen cabinets, move all cleaning products out of reach, and put outlet covers up. The little b
oy was surprisingly fast and he got into everything. If you turned your back for a second, he’d be gone, off to investigate the bathroom waste basket or something else messy.
When it came time to decide where to have Thanksgiving dinner — Carl and Rachel’s house or Carl’s parents’ — Rachel put her foot down. No way was her baby going to Pete and Darla’s. Right before school started, Rachel had taken Jamie to see them, and she came back reporting that they had made no effort to baby-proof their house. They called right before Thanksgiving to assure that they had, but Carl stopped by, just a casual visit, he said, and came home with the same news. There were no baby gates anywhere, poisons were still under the sink, no outlet covers, and plenty of breakable knick knacks.
Evelyn was proud of her daughter. She was usually the first to give in, always anxious to appease and avoid confrontation, but when it came to her baby, she had a backbone of steel. Evelyn noticed Carl almost always deferred to his wife whenever there was any discussion about the baby. He was a wise man. Never cross a young mother.
* * *
A baby’s first Christmas is an exciting time, even though the baby has no idea what’s going on. Jamie apparently knew what he liked: the Christmas tree. Rachel and Carl put it in the living room but had to block the doorway off with baby gates after Jamie first encounter with the tree.
Rachel brought Jamie in to admire the tree, but when she set him down, he was on it in an instant. He reached up one little hand and grabbed the lowest strand of lights, which seemed to swell with brilliance and then went out with a loud pop. Every light on the tree had either exploded or burned out. Carl replaced the lights and put up the gates, but a few days later, they found Jamie next to the tree and the lights were gone again. Zapped.
Carl replaced the lights once more, and they solved the problem by not turning them on unless they had a firm grip on the baby. Jamie spent the rest of the holiday slobbering on ornaments next to an unlit tree.
Chapter 6
For Jamie’s first birthday, Rachel and Carl decided to have a cookout and invite Carl’s parents. They set up a long folding table in the gazebo, and Carl cooked hamburgers on the deck. It was a hot July day but comfortable under the gazebo’s ceiling fan.
