In One Single Moment Your Whole Life Can Turn Around

EIGHT

“Ready to go?” Ryan asks, his voice slightly quivering with nervousness.

I suppose he’s just as nervous as I am for coming over to my place and meeting my parents. Sam’s already sitting in her pram, probably wondering what is taking us so long to leave.

“I think so,” I answer, nodding my head. “Just don’t let my mom or dad get to you. They’re really nice, but when they’re upset about something, they can get pretty mean. If they’re going too far, we’ll leave,” I tell Ryan, following him as he makes his way to the front door with Sam.

“I’m sure it won’t go that far,” Ryan says as he opens the door.

“Well see.” I sigh and with that, the three of us leave Ryan’s house.

The walk to my house only takes ten minutes and it happens in complete silence. Ryan and I are too nervous about this whole thing to say something. When we arrive, my knees are shaking and I have to take a few deep breaths to stop the shaking. I can’t show my parents how scared I am of them at the moment.

“Here we go,” I mutter, opening the backdoor of my house, walking straight into the kitchen where my mom is preparing lunch.

“Hi, mom,” I greet, keeping the door opened for Ryan and Sam.

“Hey,” she replies, not even giving us a look. “Lunch will be ready in a few minutes.”

“Mom,” I start, taking a step closer to her. “Can’t you even look at Ryan or say ‘hi’ to him. He won’t bite, you know,” I say, crossing my arms in front of my chest. “Please,” I add.

Mom rolls her eyes and then she finally looks straight at us.

“Hello, Ryan,” she mutters, her eyes quickly wandering down to the pram and Sam in it and then she turns away again.

I sigh, shaking my head in frustration and then I grab Ryan’s hand in mine.

“Take Sam out of her pram. We’ll wait in the living room until lunch is ready,” I tell him, gently squeezing his hand. He must be feeling extremely uncomfortable right now.

“Okay,” he replies in a soft whisper and bends down, taking Sam out of her pram. “Are you going to walk?” he asks her, putting her down on the floor, holding her hands to support her. Sam smiles and starts walking, so we follow suite, leading her to the living room.

“She’s getting good at this, don’t you think?” I ask Ryan once we’re out of sight from my mom. “Maybe if we stimulate her a bit, she’ll walk without any help,” I say, sitting down on the sofa.

“Maybe,” Ryan answers, his previously rather gloomy look replaced by a soft smile and sits down with his back against the sofa. He sets Sam down a few feet away from him, so she grabs the edge of the sofa to keep herself standing. Ryan crawls a bit away from the sofa, so there’s a space of about seven feet in-between them. “Come to daddy, Sammie,” he says, loud and clear so Sam hears him and spreads his arms for her. “Come on, sweetie.”

Sam lets go of the sofa, takes one step and then she falls on her behind. This won’t stop her from going to Ryan, though. Instead of walking towards him, she just crawls.

“Good girl.” Ryan smiles and presses a small kiss against her forehead. “But let’s try again. Go to Brendon now,” he tells her, nodding his head towards me.

I smile widely and spread my arms just like Ryan did a short minute ago.

“Come here, Sam,” I say, clapping my hands.

Ryan helps her in a standing position again, but after one step, she falls and goes back to crawling. Too bad. It would be so nice to see her first steps.

“Okay, one more time,” Ryan starts, chuckling softly. “Come back to daddy, Sammie,” he then says, spreading his arms as she pulls herself up, using the edge of the sofa as a support.

Sam doesn’t seem to mind that she’s being sent from me to Ryan the entire time and again she starts walking. She takes one step, two steps, three steps, without falling and after a few more steps, she has reached Ryan.

“Oh my God. She did it!” Ryan squeals, picking Sam up and cuddling her. “You’re such a smart little girl,” he says, holding her close.

“She’s got that from her father,” I say, standing up and flopping back down next to them.

It’s only then that I notice my mom standing in the doorframe of the living room. She has a look of amusement on her face, but she’s trying her best to hide it.

“Erm… lunch is ready,” she mutters when she notices I’m looking at her and then she turns around again.

“How old is she again?” mom asks as all of us sit down.

Dad isn’t here and I suspect that he went out because he knew that Ryan was coming over.

“A little bit older than eleven months,” Ryan answers, sitting down on a chair and taking Sam on his lap. “She’s already a big girl.”

“I-I forgot to prepare something extra for her. S-sorry,” mom whispers and she seems to be genuinely sorry.

I’m surprised that she’s being so nice so suddenly. She probably can’t resist Sam’s cuteness. No one can.

“It’s okay. I prepared something and brought it with me,” Ryan says, nudging me with his elbow. “Do you want to get it from the pram? And a bib too?” he asks, nodding his head towards the pram. “Please?”

“Of course.” I smile, nodding and walk over to the pram, taking out a small Tupperware box that’s filled with fruit porridge. In the meantime, mom puts the food for us, pizza, on the table.

“Have a nice meal,” she speaks and sits down herself.

We eat in almost complete silence, except for Sam’s occasional babbling and giggling when I pull a funny face at her.

“Where is her mother?” my mom asks out of the blue, breaking the silence.

I put the last piece of pizza I was about to eat back down on my plate and lay my hand on Ryan’s instead, giving it a small squeeze.

“She left me,” Ryan answers, looking straight at my mom. “Shortly after Sam was born. I don’t know where she is now. She left town and I never heard anything of her again.”

“I’m sorry, that must have been awful,” mom says and then things go silent again. I suppose this is better than her shouting at us.

“Beeden,” Sam says, stretching her arms towards me. “Beeden,” she repeats, wriggling on Ryan’s lap.

“She knows your name?” mom wonders out loud, clearly surprised about this.

In a few weeks time, Sam has evolved from calling me Be to calling me Beeden, which I think is one of the cutest things in the world.

“Yeah, Sam totally adores him,” Ryan answers for me as he puts Sam down on my lap. Sam giggles a bit and grabs my shirt into her little fists.

“I-I didn’t know you were so good with babies,” mom states, tilting her head to the side a bit.

“I never thought I was either,” I tell her, shrugging. “But then I met Sam and magic happened. Maybe Sam is just good with Brendons and not me good with babies. Who will ever tell us?” I laugh, rubbing my nose against Sam’s cheek.

“Can I hold her?” mom questions, her voice soft and a little bit uncertain. I definitely like where this is going, that’s for sure.

“Of course you can,” Ryan answers, nodding. Mom smiles widely in response and stands up, walking over to me. She bends down and picks Sam up.

“She’s beautiful,” she whispers and now I’m completely convinced that things are going to be fine for me. Thanks to Sam’s charms.

***

“Come on, pretty, wake up,” Ryan whispers in my ear, but his words barely get to me because I’m still half asleep. When I react with nothing more than a grunt, Ryan shifts a bit in the bed and a few seconds later, he presses his lips against mine, softly sucking on my lower lip. “Beeedeeeen,” he calls in singsong voice and pokes my side with his finger. “Wake up. It’s a special day, Brendon,” he tells me and then I finally open up my eyes, looking straight into his hazel ones, smiling.

“You’re cute when you’re being a proud father,” I tell him, reaching for his hand underneath the covers and entwining our fingers.

“Mmm… How could I not be proud about Sam? It’s her first birthday today, that’s pretty big.” He smiles and starts rubbing his nose against my cheek. “I’m so glad that I made it through the first year. I have to admit that there were moments when I thought that I wouldn’t make it, that I would fuck up completely,” he confesses, resting his head against mine.

“But you didn’t fuck up, you did damn good, so you shouldn’t be just proud of Sam, but also proud of yourself.”

“And you should be proud as well,” Ryan adds two seconds later. “Don’t freak out, but you really are like a father to Sam. You feed her, play with her, hold her, talk to her, soothe her, read her stories, wash her and God know what else, just like I do,” he says, his words making my heart swell and giving me a proud feeling. I’m happy to mean so much to Sam, she’s part of my life now and I wouldn’t want it differently.

“Yeah, well, at the beginning, I told you I’d be there for you, as long as I didn’t have to change her diaper,” I say, chuckling. I never changed her diaper so far, that’s something I leave to Ryan. But somewhere in the near future, I know I’ll be doing that too. Unless she learns to use a potty before I get to that point.

“I love you, Brendon,” Ryan mutters, his lips dangerously close to mine. “More than you can imagine,” he adds and then he presses his lips against mine, kissing me deeply.

“I love you too, Ry,” I reply as I pull back from the kiss and then I let out a long, contented sigh.

“Do you think the birthday girl’s awake yet?” I wonder, glancing at Ryan’s alarm clock.

Ten past eight. Lately, Sam’s been sleeping a lot longer than she used to a couple of months ago. It’s quite amazing when you think how much she has grown and learnt in such a short period of time. She’s a little miracle.

“Mmm… Let’s check. She probably has. She’s just being a very good girl by staying quiet to let her daddies sleep a bit longer,” Ryan answers, tracing his thumb over my cheek.

“Daddies,” I repeat, my smile widening until it is physically impossible for the corners of my mouth to lift further up my face. I’m a daddy and I no longer think it’s scary. In contrary, it gives me a good feeling, knowing that there’s someone here who needs my help to grow up.

“Yeah, daddies.” Ryan smiles, nodding and pecks my lips. “Let’s get our daughter and get her ready for her special day,” he says, letting go of me to step out of the bed.

I follow him, quickly putting on a pair of boxers and a shirt. I wouldn’t want to traumatize Sam for life by showing up next to her bed, completely naked.

When Ryan walks into the room and bends over the crib, I can hear the familiar “Dada.” which tells me that Sam’s already awake. I stand next to Ryan and rest my head on his shoulder, smiling widely at the little girl. “Beeden,” she says when she sees me and, fuck, I really couldn’t be happier than I am right now. Yeah, taking care of her is enormously hard to combine with school, but her saying my name and smiling at me makes it all worth it. I think I’m starting to sound like a real father, how weird is that?

“Good morning, Sammie.” Ryan smiles, bending down to pick her out of the bed. He rests her on his hip, his arms firmly holding her. “It’s your special day,” he tells her, kissing her cheek. “Happy birthday, my princess,” he whispers, closing his eyes and lightly resting his forehead against Sam’s.

"Yeah, happy birthday, girl," I say as well and give her a kiss. Sam seems to be confused why she's getting so much attention this early, but she's clearly enjoying it.

"Now, let's go to the kitchen for your birthday breakfast," Ryan speaks up, smiling widely and then we walk out of Sam's bedroom, towards the kitchen.

"Do you want to make her breakfast?" Ryan asks, putting Sam down in her highchair. "I'm going to get us a cake from the bakery," he adds, standing in the doorframe of the kitchen.

"Sure. Cake sounds great," I reply, nodding. "And don't forget a candle," I say, keeping my voice low so Sam won't hear me. Not that it would matter, she won't get what is going on anyway, but it's fun like this.

"I won't, pretty," Ryan answers, smiling softly. "I'm going to put on some clothes now. I don't think the baker will appreciate it if I enter his shop like this." He grins, looking down at his boxers.

"Okay, then I'll start on Sam's breakfast," I announce, opening one of the wall cupboards to take out a plate for Sam. Then I take the bowl that's filled with fresh fruit off the kitchen counter and place it down in front of Sam. "What do you want to eat, Sammie?" I ask, pointing at the bowl. "It's your birthday so you can choose," I add, pushing the bowl a bit closer to her. "What do you want to eat?"
Sam looks at me for a few seconds and then her eyes travel over to the fruit bowl. She looks at it as if she's thinking carefully about what she wants to eat for breakfast.

"Banana?" I question, pointing at the banana with my index finger.

Sam shakes her head in response. No banana then.

"Apple?" I then ask, pointing at an apple and Sam shakes her head again. "Kiwi?" I ask, picking a kiwi out of the bowl and showing it to her. "You like kiwis, don't you?" I wonder out loud when Sam nods. "Then a kiwi it will be. And what about a few pieces of pear to go with that?" I then ask, pointing at a pear.

"No," Sam babbles, shaking her head.

"Okay, just kiwi then. Let's see what we can do with that," I say, laying the kiwi down on the table.

I stand up and open a cupboard, taking out a box of cereal. Sam loves cereal. And when I say 'love' I mean: she really, really loves it. If she sees the box, she immediately stretches her arm towards it to show everyone she wants to eat cereals. Her favourite is cheerio cornflakes, but Ryan almost never gives her those because he thinks they contain too much sugar which isn't good for the few teeth she already has.

This time is no exception. The second that Sam sees the cereal box, she reaches out for it, wanting to take it from me. One thing I’ve learned during the past months is: never give a baby a box of cereal, unless you have a cleaning lady to clean up the mess for you, because the baby will use the box as a rattle.

“No, Sam,” I say, shaking my head. “I will give you some in a second. First I’m going to peel that kiwi for you and make little kiwi-blocks,” I tell her, taking a knife out of the drawer and sit down, making sure that the cereal box is out of Sam’s reach.

Before cutting the kiwi into little blocks, I peel it and throw the peel of it away. I drop the little pieces of kiwi into the bowl and then I pour some cereals over it. I take a large spoon and make a little mash out of the kiwi and cereal. This may look disgusting as hell, but Sam loves to eat it.

“And now we have to wait until daddy is back home, okay. Then we’ll eat together,” I speak and Sam replies to that with some incoherent babbling.

Sometimes, I think she must have a language of her own, because she can say these things that don’t make any sense at all.

“I’ll get you some milk,” I say and stand up, walking over to the fridge to retrieve a carton of milk.

Sam started drinking cow milk about a month ago instead of the formula Ryan had been giving her from the moment she was born. At first she didn’t want it, but she grew into it, just like the eating thing. I pour some milk into a spout cup and give it to Sam, who greedily takes it from me.

“Take it easy. I don’t want to clean up puke on your birthday.” I grin, flopping down on the chair next to Sam’s. “You’re such a beautiful girl, did you know that?” I ask, letting my fingers flow through her thin hair. Of course Sam doesn’t respond to what I’m saying and just keeps on drinking her milk. “I love you, Sammie,” I say and then she finally looks at me.

“Dada,” she says, stretching her arm as if she wants to hand me her cup. I look around me to see if maybe Ryan’s back, but he’s not here. “Dada,” Sam repeats, her arm still stretched and her eyes on me.

“I’m not your dada, Sammie,” I say, taking the cup from her. “I’m Brendon.”

“Dada.” Sam giggles, making little flailing-like gestures with her arms.

“Beeeeeeden.” I smile, pointing at myself.

“Dada,” Sam says again and it’s then that I realise she’s calling me dada.

“Am I your daddy too, Sammie?” I ask, my voice a little bit crooked because of the emotions that are welling up inside of me.

“Dada,” Sam speaks, as if she’s obsessed with the word and can’t say anything else.

Small tears are standing in my eyes when Ryan enters the kitchen, holding a box in his hands.

“Is everything okay?” he asks when he sees me. “Why are you crying?” he whispers, crouching down next to me and resting his hand on my knee.

“Sam,” I bring out, nodding my head towards the girl. “She called me dada,” I explain, a single tear escaping from the corner of my left eye. “She thinks I’m her dada too,” I whisper and I really don’t know why I’m crying, because I’m so fucking happy right now. I should be smiling and not crying.

“Told you that you’re her daddy too,” Ryan replies, smiling widely as he rests his chin on my knee. “She loves you to no end, Brendon. That’s a fact.”

“Thank you,” I breathe, looking down at Ryan. “Thank you for telling me about Sam all those months ago and introducing me to her. I can’t imagine how my life would be right now if you hadn’t.”

“That’s nothing you should be thinking about. This is your life now,” Ryan tells me and stands up. “Come on, let’s feed her and then she can blow out her first candle,” he adds, kissing the top of my head. I nod, wiping away my tears with the back of my hand.

“Look Sammie, kiwi and cereals,” I say, putting the cup down in front of her.

I take a spoon to scoop up some of the mash, but Sam’s quicker than me and already has taking a bit of the sticky mess in between her thumb and index finger. I chuckle and shake my head in amusement. She should learn how the use a spoon, but at this moment I can’t bring myself to tell her to use a spoon because this is too cute. She puts her fingers in her mouth, half of the mash falling off her fingers and onto her bib.

Ryan sits down on my lap and wraps an arm around my neck. Together we watch as Sam tries to eat on her own, helping her every once in a while because she’s always spilling more than she’s putting in her mouth. When she has eaten all the mash in her bowl, her hands and face are sticky.

“She looks so cute,” Ryan states, standing up. “I’m going to take my camera,” he tells me and walks out of the kitchen, only to return a minute later with his photo camera. “Look at daddy,” he says, waving his hand at Sam. Sam looks at Ryan, completely oblivious to why we’re so giggly. “Awww, look Brendon.” Ryan beams, sitting back down on my lap and showing me the picture he just took.

“She’s so precious,” I reply, looking at the picture.

“Do you want to blow out your birthday candle?” Ryan questions after a short silence, opening the carton box that’s standing on the middle of the table. Inside the box is a simple cake with pieces of fruit on top of it. Next to the cake lies a small candle in the shape of a ‘1’ which Ryan picks up and puts on top of the cake. “Look, one. That’s how old you are,” he says and raises his index finger. “One,” he repeats.

Sam giggles and copies his action.

“Yes, that’s how old you are,” I tell her, patting her head. “She probably doesn’t understand a thing of what is going on and thinks we’re going completely crazy,” I say, laughing softly as Ryan lights the candle with a lighter.

“Look, Sammie,” he starts as he pushes the cake closer to Sam. “You got to blow it out. Like this,” he continues and then he blows the candle out. Sam looks at it with big eyes. “Now it’s your turn,” Ryan tells her and lights the candle again. “Blow,” he adds and blows in Sam’s face. Sam doesn’t seem to understand and when the candle is close enough to her, she brings her hand close to it, wanting to touch it, but I stop her before she does.

“That’s ouch,” I tell her, pressing her hand down. “I don’t think she will blow it out,” I then say, turning to Ryan.

“Then we’ll do it, for the picture,” Ryan replies, grabbing his camera again. “I’ll use the self-timer so we can all be in the picture,” he explains, pushing on a few buttons on the camera. “There. Come on, pretty,” he says, pulling me up onto my feet. “If the orange light of the camera starts blinking really fast it means that the camera is going to make the picture. That’s when you have to blow out the candles, got it?”

“Yeah.” I nod, crouching down next to Sam as Ryan puts the camera at the right spot. He pushes the button on top of it and then he hurries to me and Sam, crouching down on the other side of her. When I see his hand resting on top of the highchair, I lay mine on top of it, squeezing it.

“Okay, here it comes,” Ryan whispers when the little light of the camera starts flickering. “Three, two, one,” he whispers and on one, we both blow, extinguishing the candle.

“Happy birthday, Sammie,” Ryan and I chant in union, both grinning like there is no tomorrow.