Bitch Slap

by Bijou Hunter

  But my chill shatters once night falls and I’m alone in the room with a sleeping Cricket and my two snoozing babies.

  That’s when I turn into a weepy chick.

  My five-pound babies look so tiny that I’m in awe they can exist outside of Cricket. When Murphy yawns in his sleep, I nearly sob loud enough to wake the dead. Only a drugged and worn-out Cricket keeps me from losing complete control. I know she needs her rest, so I take a deep breath and pull my shit together.

  Earlier, Cricket admitted she couldn’t tell the babies apart. With their small red faces, they don’t look like anyone, and they certainly aren’t different enough to tell their genders without doing a diaper check.

  I can tell, though. Murphy has a little extra brown hair poking out of his newborn cap. Plus, my little man is more alert and easily startled by noises. His sister only wants to sleep. I also notice little differences in their nose shapes and the roundness of their faces. Having accomplished little in their lives so far—as compared to their hardworking mom who kept them safe for nearly nine months—I’m filled with great pride in my ability to tell them apart.

  I can’t believe my dad went through this experience as a teenager and with a woman he wasn’t crazy about. He somehow managed to raise me right, so I’d one day be worthy of Cricket. The thought of my father holding me like I now hold my kids nearly sends me into another round of emotional—and exhausted—tears.

  Unable to sleep, I change my first diaper around eleven. After another badge of honor claimed, I decide not to wake Cricket to breastfeed. I doubt she’d be aware enough to do it anyway. The lactation specialist showed up earlier, offered advice, and was quickly sent away. Cricket learns best from watching crap online. Besides, pulling out her tits in front of a stranger won’t fly. She’s a stubborn woman even after a C-section.

  Candy helped her get the babies to latch earlier. Now they take turns with the bottle. Murphy wakes first, fusses enough for me to know he isn’t messing around, and enjoys my sloppy diaper attempt.

  “If you leak, I apologize,” I tell him before taking the bottle the nurse brings.

  “Should we wake your wife?” she asks before leaving.

  “You can try if you want, but you should be aware she’ll bitch slap you.”

  “So no then.”

  I smile at her tone, but I’m more worried I won’t be able to care for Murphy alone. Especially since Minnow could wake at any moment and need my attention. How in the hell will I handle two?

  “My mom handled two alone,” Cricket told me more than once when she was pregnant. “She’s a lazy, snarky bitch. If she could manage to pull her head out of her ass to raise me well, you and I should do fine.”

  Holding Murphy, I feel like I’ll squish his tiny body in my arm. Have I always been this gigantic? How will Hayes hold the babies without hurting them?

  I finally get a comfortable position, and he takes the bottle easily. Watching me with dark little eyes, Murphy gives me a shot of confidence. He didn’t fuss when I changed him, ate easily, and dozed off after having a good burp. The kid is so easily that I have no doubt his sister will crush my confidence as soon as she wakes up.

  Oh, she fusses for sure when I unwrap her to change her diaper.

  “Your mom doesn’t like the cold either,” I tell Minnow who whines and squirms while my fingers struggle with the little sticky diaper tabs. “Almost done.”

  Minnow isn’t happy until she’s wrapped up in the blanket again. I can’t swaddle her like a pro yet, but she’s happy to be dry and warm. I get a new bottle from the nurse who is less squinty on this visit. I think she’s decided I’m adorable trying to care for two babies while my wife sleeps. Yeah, I’m a good guy.

  Except I’m just waiting for Minnow to make me cry again. I don’t trust she won’t punish me for having such an easy time with Murphy.

  I’m wrong, though. She dozes off halfway through the bottle.

  “Rub her cheek,” the nurse says while taking Cricket’s vitals. “It’ll encourage her to suckle.”

  Taking her advice, I soon get my little girl to drink the rest of the bottle. Minnow never really wakes up again, even while I burp her. Like her mama, she only wants to sleep.

  Proud as hell at my first round of being a dad, I take a few pictures, give Cricket a kiss on the cheek, and pull out the chair to make into a bed. I figure I’ll get a few hours of sleep and be rested in the morning when my family needs me.

  Nope.

  I can’t relax. What if I sleep too deeply and don’t hear the babies and they wake up Cricket? What if someone comes in and steals one of the babies? What if Cricket needs me and I’m napping like a lazy sonovabitch?

  My father told me when I moved to White Horse that he’d never stop worrying about me.

  “You’re my boy until the day I die. I don’t care how tough or smart you are. I’m always your dad, and I’ll always worry. You’ll understand soon.”

  Tonight, I do understand. Logically, I know we’re safe in the hospital. I also know I’ll never sleep deep enough on this crap convertible chair to miss the sounds of Cricket or the babies.

  I choose to remain awake because my job is to keep them safe and logic can’t compete with love.

  CRICKET

  I’m no doubt biased, but I swear Murphy and Minnow are the most stunning babies to ever walk the earth. With their little noses and big dark eyes, they’re just the sweetest sugarplums—even more adorable than my cherub brother, Cap.

  “You look like your daddy,” I tell Murphy while he sucks away at my milk fountain. “Such a cutie-patootie.”

  “So it begins,” Chipper grumbles nearby. “The baby talk will be the end of me.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” I tell him in a cutesy, singsong voice. “Stick a rod up your butt and keep shoving upward until you knock some sense into that big fat head of yours.”

  “Your mother is a roadwhore,” he coos at Minnow in a baby voice. “I bet she likes it rough and sticky.”

  “Hey,” a sleepy Poet mumbles from the couch/chair thing in the corner. “Let’s keep this bitchfest PG-rated.”

  “Alright, lovey,” Chipper says, and I break into insane giggles.

  Despite our lively conversation, Poet needs sleep. He only gets a few hours a day when someone else—usually Candy and Hayes—come to stay with me and the babies. Today, if the doctor says everything is cool, we’ll be discharged, and he can finally get a decent night’s rest.

  “The babies will see their home for the first time soon,” I say after switching boobs for Murphy. “The dogs can sniff the babies’ blankets to get the idea of new people in their house.”

  “They love Court,” Chipper whispers while burping Minnow. “His crotch is their crack.”

  Even struggling to keep his eyes open, Poet chuckles. I can’t wait to get my man home where he can stretch out and get a decent night’s rest. Despite the pain in my gut from getting shivved, I’m done with the hospital. I can get pain meds at home, and my family will take better care of me than any nurse. Yep, it’s time to get my ass back home.

  Hayes and Candy show up to the hospital after Chipper tells them I’m being discharged at noon. They have the baby seats set up in the SUV and extra blankets to keep us warm on the winter ride home. I’m so excited to leave that I start crying as soon as Candy enters the room and I don’t really stop until I walk through the door of my house.

  My sleepy man remains watchful on the ride home. He worries I’ll pull my stitches or exert myself too much. He stresses about the babies getting sick from the ten-minute drive. He’s a ball of fucking nerves, and my crying doesn’t help, but he too relaxes as soon as we’re through the door.

  Court and Justice have the dogs corralled in a back hallway for our arrival. We get the babies to my bedroom and comfortable in their new bed. Minnow bitches the entire drive but instantly falls asleep once in her crib. Murphy, on the other hand, chills the entire drive only to bitch as soon as we lie him down.


  “Grandma to the rescue,” Justice says, picking up the boy and stealing him away.

  When my incision is so tender I have trouble climbing into my bed next to Poet, Hayes carefully picks me up and rests me next to my man.

  “Thank you, Daddy,” I coo, and he gives me an annoyed growl. “You love me.”

  Hayes refuses to smile. He needs me to get better so he can stop worrying so much. I’m familiar with this drill because he pulled the same moves when Candy had Cap. Unable to vaginally give birth to the giant baby, she got shivved for the second time in her life. Miserable, Candy needed lots of Hayes’s brand of cranky loving. Now I’m getting the same treatment.

  “Sleep so you can feed your kids when they wake up later,” he orders, and I try not to laugh in his grumpy face.

  “Yes, sir.”

  I take forever to find a comfortable position, but Poet is sound asleep less than five minutes after we’re alone in the room with one of our two babies. If he was awake, I’d ask if we should worry about Murphy. What if he needs to eat again? What if he feels abandoned by his parents because he’s awake and we’re not around? What if I’m assuming a three-day-old has cognitive skills that no other three-day-old baby ever has?

  I study Poet’s handsome face for a long time before my pain meds drag me to sleep. He’s seriously the best-looking man I’ve ever seen. Like he’s freakishly gorgeous. Poet’s also a good man. Not lame good either, but strong and resilient. Oh, and a great lover too!

  But now I understand how much this amazing man—who I somehow managed to snare during a fluke meeting—is a gentle papa bear. I knew in my heart he would be. Men are tricky, though. That’s why my head required him to prove his mettle, and Poet came through will flying fucking colors.

  POET

  The first month my babies spend outside the womb proves to be the most difficult yet amazing time of my life. The twins remain on a decent schedule, and we have plenty of extra hands to ensure Cricket and I get enough sleep and even non-baby downtime.

  From day one, the dogs are very curious about Minnow and Murphy. Cricket works with them, introducing each dog to the babies for short periods of time. She also spends time in the living room with just them, so they don’t get overly jealous of the newcomers in the house.

  My dad and Justice spend a few days a week in White Horse. When they’re not in town, Hayes and Candy stay with us and baby the babies. Bianca Bella and Chipper play backup for us at night.

  The only other visitor we allow in the house—to avoid getting the babies sick—is Cap. The giant kid sits in a chair so Cricket can rest a baby in each arm. Then the family’s insane cooing over the boy begins.

  “They’re being held by an angel,” Cricket says, taking pictures.

  Candy videotapes the moment. “Two cherubs held by their protective uncle cherub. So precious.”

  “It certainly is the most fucking precious shit I’ve ever seen,” Chipper says and nudges Hayes who nods.

  “Fucking adorable.”

  Watching them babble lovingly over the family’s baby holding my babies, I feel a tiny left out. I miss my Tumbling Rock family’s insanity. Cricket tugs me closer and smiles through tears.

  “Don’t you think he’s a precious angel from above?”

  “Very much so,” I say, embracing their crazy. “He’s a six-foot cherub with pinchable cheeks.”

  Candy gasps nearby and nods. “They are pinchable.”

  “No, wait,” Cap mutters, shaking his head as the women descend upon him.

  The pinching turns to tickling before Cap finally manages to hand a baby to each woman. Once they’re preoccupied, he makes his escape.

  “Way to have my back,” Cap grumbles at his father.

  “There’s no denying you’re an adorable fucker,” Hayes says and then glances at Chipper, “Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Cap realizes what’s about to happen and darts out of the room. Chipper is hot on his ass with the dogs chasing behind. They end up running around outside into the winter chill. My White Horse family has officially become as insane as my Tumbling Rock one.

  Everyone is so happy, and New Year begins on such a positive note that I’m completely unprepared for Cricket’s impending breakdown.

  The day Bianca Bella leaves for her cruise is especially cold outside, and she no doubt looks forward to traveling somewhere warmer. Despite this fact, she cries nearly as much as Cricket when they say goodbye before Chipper drives her to the airport.

  “You’re leaving forever,” Cricket cries, crazy-hugging her friend. “You’ll never come back.”

  “Of course, I will. I have all my shit here,” Bianca Bella sobs. “At the very least, I have to return for the chandelier.”

  They laugh at her joke, but the hug continues. Cricket caresses Bianca Bella’s long dark hair, nearly gripping it like a leash so her friend can’t leave.

  “You’ll forget me,” she whimpers when Chipper and I are forced to separate the women.

  “I’ll talk to you nearly every day.”

  “I’ll forget you,” Cricket cries, reaching for her while I hug her to me.

  Bianca Bella wrestles with Chipper as he tugs her toward the door. “I’ll talk to you nearly every day.”

  “Who will play with Chipper when I’m busy?”

  “He has a cat,” Bianca Bella says, now partly out the front door.

  Wrapping my arms around Cricket, I keep her from following them outside. She struggles to break free while calling out to Bianca Bella, “You won’t see the babies grow up.”

  “She’ll talk to you nearly every day,” Chipper yells back before shutting the door to end the never-ending goodbye.

  Cricket turns to me, wipes her eyes, and sighs. “In a few weeks, you and I can fuck again. I’m going to tap your sweet ass.”

  Just like that, her mood flips a switch from distraught to horny. I expect the change at this point, having learned she’ll take a month or two to get her hormones under control.

  I follow Cricket to the bedroom where she checks on the sleeping babies. As we’re prone to do, Cricket and I stare at our kids while they do nothing more than breathe in and out.

  “I know I’ll regret this later when they won’t sleep,” Cricket whispers to me, “but I wish they were awake right now so I could hold them and kiss their heads.”

  “They do have kissable heads,” I say and wrap an arm around her shoulders. “Just like their mama.”

  Cricket leans against me and exhales unsteadily. Before the tears start, I sense them coming. She leaves the room before the sobs start. I join her on the couch where she sits with Lobo’s head resting in her lap.

  “When I was a kid,” she says, hiccupping after her tears end, “I wanted to be like my mom. She was a tough single mom. The whole ‘sisters doing for themselves’ vibe was heavy in my early childhood, and I planned to grow up to be just like her.”

  Nuzzling Lobo’s head, she reaches over to pet the now needy Redondo. “Then she met Hayes, and he was her perfect match. He didn’t want her to change or be weak. He loved her for her, and I decided I wanted to find my perfect match.”

  Now with a hand on each cocker spaniel’s head, while still nuzzling Lobo, she peeks at me. “I didn’t think I would find someone, though. Logically, it seemed farfetched. I’m a special person, and no man could be special enough to endure my specialness,” she says and suddenly smiles. “Obviously, I greatly underestimated the world’s ability to create someone like you.”

  “I knew I’d find you,” I admit. “I expected to find a woman like my father found with Justice. I saw him fall in love, and I knew I’d get that. I’m so damn spoiled it never occurred to me that I might not have this,” I say, caressing her head. “That said, I wasn’t ready, and I’m thankful for your patience.”

  Cricket snorts. “I threatened to kill you.”

  “You wouldn’t have.”

  “I might have bitch slapped you, though.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t
mind it rough.”

  Cricket laughs at my wiggling eyebrows. “I’m going to ride you until your dick begs for mercy.”

  “Refuse to relent even then. Punish me as you see fit.”

  Laughing harder, she lets go of the dogs and climbs onto my lap. “Remember when I smacked your ass at the hotel? You can’t know how much I wanted to take a bite out of it instead.”

  Now I’m laughing. “You’re making my dick both hard and terrified.”

  “Only a few more weeks, and we’ll need to turn the baby monitor off in the bedroom. Don’t need everyone hearing my dirty talk.”

  Smiling sympathetically, I take her hand and say, “You sincerely don’t understand how loud you get when you come, do you?”

  Cricket’s eyes widen. “Well, gag me then when my parents are over.”

  “And my parents.”

  “I care less about scarring them.”

  Her expression shifts and I wonder if she’ll cry soon. Instead, Cricket stands up and glances around.

  “House is empty of adults. Babies are sleeping. We could fool around in the guest bedroom.”

  “Is that safe?” I ask, having read horror stories about women’s incisions ripping open. “I can wait.”

  “Look,” she murmurs and takes my hand to guide me down the hallway, “I know you love your hand, and it’s been very giving to you for the last few months, but I have needs.”

  “I don’t want you tearing open,” I admit.

  “Oh, no heavy lifting yet. No poking either,” she says, entering the guest bedroom where she gently climbs onto the bed. “Just some innocent first- to third-base action. No Red Wings for you.”

  Joining her on the bed, I reach over to flip on the baby monitor so we can keep an eye on the babies. I smile at the sight of them—Minnow having nearly squirmed off her cap earlier while Murphy stretches in his sleep.

  “My parents won’t be here for a few hours, and the babies have at least another hour,” she says, wrapping her arms around my neck as I rest my hip against hers and get comfy. “I miss having you close, and I don’t want to think about Bianca Bella leaving. For the next hour, I want lips, fingers, and maybe a little teeth.”