Stuck Like Glue

Two weeks later and it still took me singing to get Jocelyn down at night. She didn’t scream as much for no reason but when she was tired, or hungry, or needed to be changed, you knew it. Her vocal chords were impressive for such a small human being.

“I don’t think she trusts us,” I finally said to Jack while he was changing her. He looked up from his task of fastening the diaper in place and frowned.

“What makes you say that?”

“She’s stopped her constant screaming, right, but it’s like, she doesn’t trust us to come when she cries when she needs something, so she screams.”

“That’s a depressing thought,” Jack said, snapping her onesie together and then maneuvering her legs into her pants. She kicked her legs at him in protest, causing her pants to fling a few feet away. “Listen, child, you’re wearing pants.”

I smiled, watching as Jack leaned away to grab her pants. He held her in place and forced her feet into the legs. She finally gave up with a huff, straightening out her legs for him. Jack leaned in and kissed her forehead. She grabbed at his hair and kicked her feet into his chest.

“Hey, be nice, pudgy,” he said, untangling her small fingers from his hair.

“She really is a ham,” I said, flipping through a magazine that we’d somehow gotten a free subscription to.

“I swear I feed her every five minutes,” Jack laughed, poking Jocelyn in the sides and then began to tickle her, making noises to match his fingers. She squealed, her mouth opening in a toothless smile and kicked at Jack.

“Is Daddy being mean to you, chunk-a-muffin?” I asked, putting my magazine down on the table and sliding down beside Jack.

“I’m Daddy, huh?” Jack asked.

“I can see her calling you Daddy,” I said with a smile. He leaned towards me and pressed a kiss into my lips.

“And who are you, Alex?”

“Whatever she wants me to be,” I said softly.

“You are the sweetest man in the world. You could singlehandedly raise this little girl to be the best person in the world.”

“Well, thankfully, I won’t have to raise her singlehandedly.”

“Never.”

He kissed me again. Jocelyn screeched, gaining our attention. She was such an attention hog. She didn’t like when we weren’t giving her all the love and attention she craved.

“Okay, Jocey, it’s all about you,” I said, scooping her up and laying her against me. She looked up at me and then closed her eyes, her mouth opening wide with a yawn. “I think it might be naptime for little Miss Jocelyn.”

“I’ll start lunch,” Jack offered as I carried our daughter up the stairs. She cooed at me as I opened the door to her nursery. She looked around at the light sea green walls, decorated with a stenciled-on tree on the far wall, its branches bending over Jocey’s crib. We’d had stencils made of her name and they were painted right over her crib in gold paint.

She started to fuss, whimpering and squirming.

“Yeah, you know what’s happening, don’t you, little girl?”

I held her against me as I pulled her bedding down. She kicked at me and began to cry.

“I know, Jocey, but you gotta nap. Daddy and I have to have lunch, and some alone time. I’m not allowed to talk to you about it, because that’s grown up stuff, but I miss having alone time with Daddy. He’s a pretty good guy, your dad is. He’s a little immature sometimes, but when it comes to you, or our marriage, Joce, he’s the best man I could ever ask for. I married a good guy, and you have a great daddy because of it. You’ll see.”

She’d quieted down, just a bit, to hear me talk.

“I know you don’t understand what I’m saying, but Daddy and I, we love you, Jocelyn.”

I bounced gently as I fixed her crib for her, just the way she liked.

“We’re never gonna let you down, baby girl. We’ll always be here for you, for whatever you need, through whatever happens,” I said, shifting her in my arms. “But right now, you have to sleep for a little bit. Daddy will come and wake you up when we’ve had our alone time. I promise. We will come and get you. You don’t have to worry about that.”

I kissed her on the forehead and ignored how angry she looked. If there was anything Jocey hated more than not being the center of attention, it was being put down for a nap. I laid her down and backed away slowly, watching her angry expression follow me to the door. I turned on the baby monitor on her dresser behind me, keeping my eyes on her and took the other with me as I slipped out of her room, closing the door. I hurried downstairs as she started crying. I winced as I joined Jack in the kitchen, setting the monitor on the counter.

“She hates being alone, doesn’t she?” Jack asked, glancing worriedly at the monitor.

“She doesn’t think we’re coming back,” I replied, turning the monitor down before kissing Jack, catching him by surprise. He whimpered and gripped my hips as I pushed him into our kitchen island, grinding my hips against his.

“Alex,” he moaned, throwing his head back as I moved my lips down his cheeks, along his jaw, until I reached his neck. He gripped at my shirt as I sucked gently on the skin joining his shoulder and neck, one of his very weak spots. “Alex, our child is upstairs.”

“Yeah? And she’s crying too loud to hear anything we’re doing. Don’t worry, baby, we’ll be fine.”

Of course, Jocey picked then to quiet down, proving me wrong. I sighed and stepped away.

“She just loves to do that,” I groaned, frowning. I rested my forehead on Jack’s collarbone and whined. Jack ran his hand lazily through my hair and chuckled, calling me pathetic. We stayed like that for a moment, just listening to the silence through the monitor.

“You know, my mom has just been dying to watch her,” Jack hinted.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying, Barakat?”

“Oh, I’m saying,” Jack pulling me closer, “exactly what you think I’m saying.”

“You are perfect, baby. Absolutely perfect.”

He grinned and kissed me, a sweet, gentle kiss first, but then he turned us so I was up against the island. He ground his hips against mine and slipped his hands up into my shirt, tracing circles into my skin.

“We should eat first, and then call your mom,” I managed, my voice tiny and weak. I didn’t want Jack to go anywhere. I was enjoying us just like this, but I was hungry and wanted to spend some proper time with my husband. We had grandmothers at our disposal, both of whom are willing to take Jocey off our hands for some quality gramma/grandbaby bonding time.

“Your mom is gonna be pissed that she didn’t get to watch Jocelyn first,” Jack reminded me as he let me go. He was right.

“I know, and she’s gonna bitch about how she only has one grandbaby and how your mom already has three from Joe, and how I obviously want Joyce to be my mother more than I love her and blah blah blah, that would be the point I tuned out.”

“You’re such a wonderful son,” Jack laughed, kissing my nose. He turned back to the stove where he was boiling water.

“What are you making, baby?” I asked, slipping my arms around him and resting my cheek on his back.

“It’s a surprise,” he replied.

“Spaghetti?”

“Nope.”

“Mashed potatoes?”

“Nope.”

“Stroganoff?”

“Do I look like I know how to make stroganoff, Alex?”

“No, you’re right. What are you making?”

“I told you, it’s a surprise!”

“I’m scared.”

“Go get comfortable, put on a game or something. I’ll bring it out when I’m done.”

I blew a raspberry onto his neck, causing him to let out a girlish squeal and squirm in my arms.

“ALEX!” he turned around and pushed me backwards back towards the island.

“Alright, I’m going. I’m going.”

I snuck a kiss before dashing out of the kitchen, snatching up the baby monitor and vaulting over the couch. I quickly sat down, tossing one of Jocey’s toys onto the recliner. She was so small, and yet, she needed so many toys and objects to help her develop correctly. We’d done our research, bought all of the parenting books and books on babies. We wanted to get this right.

Then again, who wanted to fuck up their kid? Who holds a tiny, fragile baby in their arms and actually thinks, “I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you need therapy as an adult”? I couldn’t imagine doing anything to harm my little girl. I checked the monitor, holding it to my ear to listen for any whimpers or cries before I flipped the TV on and channel surfed until I found a football game. I settled into the cushions and relaxed.

Soon after, Jack came out with two plates of my favorite kind of pasta, tortellini in alfredo sauce. He kissed my cheek as he set them on the coffee table in front of us. He held up a finger, telling me to wait before disappearing from the living room. He came back moments later, carrying to glasses of red wine. I grinned. My husband was perfect. I was lucky to not only have found the love of my life to marry, but he was also my best friend. We hadn’t always been together. For the longest time, I’d denied any feelings I had for him, and he did the same for me. Until, one day, we’d almost lost one another and those feelings seemed to bubble the surface. At the next show, I stormed on stage, late and in trouble with Flyzik, grabbed Jack in the middle of our intro and kissed him. I wasn’t having him slip away.

That seemed like so long ago and so much had happened since there. Our relationship wasn’t the smoothest and then, neither was our engagement. My mom wasn’t too happy that she’d never get biological grandbabies and my dad had a hard time adjusting to his son having a boyfriend, then a fiancé, and then a husband. Of course, Jack’s family were having the same problems, but less dramatic. I love my parents and all of my family in England, but they were a tad overly, let’s say, theatrical about the whole thing.

“Alex? Alex!” Jack said loudly near my ear.

“What?” I jumped backwards, startled.

“I lost you there for a second. What’s going on in that head of yours, baby?” he asked.

“I was just thinking about how perfect our life is, how everything worked out and I couldn’t be more thankful for a guy like you. You’ve been so much more than I could have even wished for.”

“Alex,” he sighed.

“What?”

He leaned in and kissed me instead, which I didn’t mind. It had been closer to 5 years and I would never tire of his kisses, his touches. He was my idea of perfection, even if he was nowhere even close to perfection. Jack Bassam Barakat wasn’t society’s idea of perfect. He was awkward and made stupid dick jokes, right alongside me, and he was still in the process of growing up, despite being in our late twenties. No one would put him in front of the crowd and say “Here’s our best specimen! He’s perfect in every single way!” but when I looked at him, all I saw was my best friend, my still-growing-up adult best friend with dark brown hair and dark brown eyes and the father of my little girl. All I saw was perfection, pure, unadulterated perfection.