“You mean remove the pan from the burner?”
“Whatever,” she says. She pulls Conner off her hip and walks toward Bridgette. “Here, hold Conner. I’ll be right back.”
Bridgette instinctively holds out her hands and my sister shoves Conner at her. Bridgette’s arms are outstretched, as far from her body as she can get them. She’s holding Conner under his armpits, staring at me wide-eyed.
“What do I do with it?” she whispers. Her eyes are filled with terror.
“Have you never held a kid before?” I ask in disbelief. Bridgette immediately shakes her head.
“I don’t know any kids.”
“Me a kid,” Conner says.
Bridgette gasps and looks at Conner, who is staring right back at her with just as much terror and fascination. “It talked!” she exclaims. “Oh, my God, you talked!”
Conner grins.
“Say cat,” Bridgette says.
“Cat,” Conner repeats.
She laughs nervously, but is still holding him like he’s a dirty towel. I remove the pot from the burner and turn it off, then walk over to her. “Conner’s the easy one,” I tell her. “Here, hold him like this.” I pull him around to her hip and wrap her arm behind him, securing him against her waist. She’s trading nervous glances between Conner and me.
“He won’t shit on me will he?”
I laugh and Conner giggles. He slaps her chest twice and kicks his legs. “Shit on me,” he says, still laughing.
Bridgette’s hand clamps over her mouth. “Oh, my God, he’s just like a parrot,” she says.
“Warren!” Whitney yells from the top of the stairs.
“I’ll be right back.”
Bridgette shakes her head and points to Conner. “But . . . but . . . this . . .” she stutters.
I pat her on top of her head. “You’ll be fine. Just keep him alive for two minutes.” I scale the steps and Whitney is standing in the doorway to the nursery. She’s wiping her neck with a rag.
“He pissed in my face,” she says. She looks so frazzled. I want to hug her, and I would if she weren’t covered in infant piss. She hands me the baby. “Take him downstairs while I jump in the shower, please.”
I lift him out of her hands. “No problem.”
She begins to head to her room, but pauses right before I make it back to the stairs. “Hey,” she says. I turn and face her. “Who’s the girl?” she signs.
I love that she signs this, so Bridgette has no chance of hearing her ask. Having a family that is all fluent in sign language definitely comes in handy.
“Just my roommate,” I sign back to her, shrugging it off. She smiles and walks into her room. I walk down the stairs holding the baby against my chest. I step over Brody, who is still playing dead on the floor. When I make it to the doorway in the kitchen, I pause. Bridgette has sat Conner on the kitchen island. She’s standing right in front of him so that he doesn’t fall and she’s holding up her fingers, counting with him.
“Three. Can you count to three?”
Conner touches his finger to the tips of hers. “One. Two. Twee,” he says. They both start clapping and he says, “Me now.”
Bridgette begins to count his fingers this time. I lean my head against the doorframe and watch her interact with him.
I don’t know why I’ve never spent time with her outside of the bedroom before this. I could add up all the things she’s done to me at night, and I’m positive I wouldn’t trade today for all of that combined.
This is the Bridgette that I see. The part of her she gives to me. And now that I’m watching her, I see that she’s very capable of giving it to others who deserve it.
“Do you stare at all your roommates like this?” Whitney whispers in my ear. I spin around, and she’s standing behind me, watching me watch Bridgette. I shake my head and look back at Bridgette. “No. I don’t.”
As soon as I say it, I regret saying it. Whitney will be texting me within the hour, wanting to know all the details. How long I’ve known her, where she’s from, if I’m in love with her.
Time to leave.
“Ready, Bridgette?” I ask, handing the baby back to Whitney.
Bridgette glances up at me and then back to Conner. She actually looks a little sad that she has to say goodbye.
“Bye, Bwidjet,” Conner says to her with a wave. Bridgette gasps and turns to face me.
“Oh, my God! Warren, he said my name!”
She turns back to Conner, and he’s still waving. “Shit on me,” he says.
Bridgette immediately picks him up and sets him down on the floor. “Ready,” she says quickly, walking away from him and toward the front door.
“Whatever,” she says. She pulls Conner off her hip and walks toward Bridgette. “Here, hold Conner. I’ll be right back.”
Bridgette instinctively holds out her hands and my sister shoves Conner at her. Bridgette’s arms are outstretched, as far from her body as she can get them. She’s holding Conner under his armpits, staring at me wide-eyed.
“What do I do with it?” she whispers. Her eyes are filled with terror.
“Have you never held a kid before?” I ask in disbelief. Bridgette immediately shakes her head.
“I don’t know any kids.”
“Me a kid,” Conner says.
Bridgette gasps and looks at Conner, who is staring right back at her with just as much terror and fascination. “It talked!” she exclaims. “Oh, my God, you talked!”
Conner grins.
“Say cat,” Bridgette says.
“Cat,” Conner repeats.
She laughs nervously, but is still holding him like he’s a dirty towel. I remove the pot from the burner and turn it off, then walk over to her. “Conner’s the easy one,” I tell her. “Here, hold him like this.” I pull him around to her hip and wrap her arm behind him, securing him against her waist. She’s trading nervous glances between Conner and me.
“He won’t shit on me will he?”
I laugh and Conner giggles. He slaps her chest twice and kicks his legs. “Shit on me,” he says, still laughing.
Bridgette’s hand clamps over her mouth. “Oh, my God, he’s just like a parrot,” she says.
“Warren!” Whitney yells from the top of the stairs.
“I’ll be right back.”
Bridgette shakes her head and points to Conner. “But . . . but . . . this . . .” she stutters.
I pat her on top of her head. “You’ll be fine. Just keep him alive for two minutes.” I scale the steps and Whitney is standing in the doorway to the nursery. She’s wiping her neck with a rag.
“He pissed in my face,” she says. She looks so frazzled. I want to hug her, and I would if she weren’t covered in infant piss. She hands me the baby. “Take him downstairs while I jump in the shower, please.”
I lift him out of her hands. “No problem.”
She begins to head to her room, but pauses right before I make it back to the stairs. “Hey,” she says. I turn and face her. “Who’s the girl?” she signs.
I love that she signs this, so Bridgette has no chance of hearing her ask. Having a family that is all fluent in sign language definitely comes in handy.
“Just my roommate,” I sign back to her, shrugging it off. She smiles and walks into her room. I walk down the stairs holding the baby against my chest. I step over Brody, who is still playing dead on the floor. When I make it to the doorway in the kitchen, I pause. Bridgette has sat Conner on the kitchen island. She’s standing right in front of him so that he doesn’t fall and she’s holding up her fingers, counting with him.
“Three. Can you count to three?”
Conner touches his finger to the tips of hers. “One. Two. Twee,” he says. They both start clapping and he says, “Me now.”
Bridgette begins to count his fingers this time. I lean my head against the doorframe and watch her interact with him.
I don’t know why I’ve never spent time with her outside of the bedroom before this. I could add up all the things she’s done to me at night, and I’m positive I wouldn’t trade today for all of that combined.
This is the Bridgette that I see. The part of her she gives to me. And now that I’m watching her, I see that she’s very capable of giving it to others who deserve it.
“Do you stare at all your roommates like this?” Whitney whispers in my ear. I spin around, and she’s standing behind me, watching me watch Bridgette. I shake my head and look back at Bridgette. “No. I don’t.”
As soon as I say it, I regret saying it. Whitney will be texting me within the hour, wanting to know all the details. How long I’ve known her, where she’s from, if I’m in love with her.
Time to leave.
“Ready, Bridgette?” I ask, handing the baby back to Whitney.
Bridgette glances up at me and then back to Conner. She actually looks a little sad that she has to say goodbye.
“Bye, Bwidjet,” Conner says to her with a wave. Bridgette gasps and turns to face me.
“Oh, my God! Warren, he said my name!”
She turns back to Conner, and he’s still waving. “Shit on me,” he says.
Bridgette immediately picks him up and sets him down on the floor. “Ready,” she says quickly, walking away from him and toward the front door.
