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He laughed . . .
The smile was wide and bright. It reddened his cheeks and forced his eyes closed, but – each time they opened – a shimmering shine of tears appeared, as if his happiness could not be contained and would spill forth at any moment. The tiny hands would open and close, as they reached upward with wild waving movements. They searched for contact. A pair of tiny feet tried to kick off the soft boots that covered tiny toes, but failed to find enough strength.
Suguru sat cross-legged on the nursery floor. He laughed until tears ran down his cheeks, until he wiped them away with the back of a callused finger, and – heaving a long sigh – cast his eyes down at the baby who rocked on its sides in an attempt to roll onto his front. There was still that ‘baby smell’ all over Mantaro, and he was so expressive that his lips constantly moved and stumbled and fumbled over incoherent words, as he strove to communicate with the world around him just like the parents he so adored. He was perfect.
“Okay,” said Suguru. “One last time, Junior.”
He lifted his hands high to his face. He held them side-by-side, blocking his face from sight, and – right on cue – Mantaro clutched at his feet and started with barely restrained sobs . . . little chokes and hiccups that escaped his throat, before a long whine emitted . . . it made Suguru’s stomach roll and churn, but it was worth it for one thing: ‘boo’! He flung open his hands. Mantaro squealed in surprise. A long second passed, until Mantaro laughed and rocked and slapped his hands against the shag pile of the carpet.
The swell of love swept through Suguru, as his lip trembled and his eyes watered. It was difficult to see through the distorted view of the world, but Mantaro’s shape . . . blue jumpsuit, brown tufts of hair, bright smile . . . it was all he could see. He bent down and offered a finger to each tiny hand, with was gripped in earnest and firmly held in return. Suguru pressed dozens of kisses all over impossibly soft cheeks, before he pulled back and laughed:
“Just one more time, m’boy.”
“How many times have you sworn that today?”
Suguru turned his head; Bibimba leaned in the doorway, dressed in a long purple gown that skirted against the floor as a small draught caught at the soft fabric, and in her arms was a beautiful stuffed toy nearly twice the size of Mantaro. The scent of her apple-shampoo drifted across the large room, enough that it brought memories of sleepless nights when sometimes she would sleep in the nursery with their son . . . leaning against the pillows, breathing deep her scent . . . sneaking in to sleep beside them . . . watching Mantaro . . .
“Er, I lost count,” admitted Suguru.
A hand hooked under that soft neck and fingers spread to support his head, while his other hand came beneath the buttocks padded with a huge diaper that hopefully would not need changing sometime soon, and – lifting Mantaro high – tears ran down Suguru’s face. There were some nights where only snippets of sleep were stolen, as he awoke to every gurgle and yawn and sneeze, and mornings spent exhausted after panicked running to the nursery every time in response to the paternal fear. There was nothing else in his world except love.
Bibimba swept through the room, before she sat beside him. He smiled as she leaned her head against his shoulder, while long locks of hair fell about them and partially shadowed her face, and – with a chaste kiss to the crown of her head – Suguru lifted Mantaro to his chest. The small boy was a bundle of warmth, with his tiny ear pressed to a muscular chest. He would no doubt fall asleep to the sound of a beating heart. Suguru whispered:
“I never thought I’d love anyone more than you.”
“That is how it should be,” swore Bibimba. “I loved him from the moment we conceived, but – even then – I never realised just how much things would change when he was born . . . before that point, he was just a dream waiting to come real, and then – suddenly – he was real and I was able to hold my baby boy in my hands. He was this perfect reality.”
“I know what you mean. I see so much of us within him, but especially you . . . it’s like he’s just the product of our love, something borne of love, and I look to him and all I feel is love. I wish I had words to put it into like – ah – something I could explain, but . . .”
“You love him more than anything.”
“I do.” Suguru smiled. “I fall asleep thinking about what he’ll become. I picture him as the greatest king that Planet Kinniku has ever known, but one that achieves everything on his own merit and not off the back of those before . . . I want his accomplishments to be his own, because he deserves to be his own person, and I want to celebrate with him when he does.”
Suguru gently lowered Mantaro onto his lap. The small boy was asleep, with his tiny chest rising up and down with every breath, and his mouth was open to reveal a small line of drool running down the corner of his lips. It should have disgusted Suguru, but it only brought further tears as Suguru wiped it away with his thumb. Bibimba giggled. A warm arm was wrapped around his upper arm, as he fingers stroked figures-of-eight on his skin, and her free hand came out to gently stroke the soft cheek of Mantaro. Bibimba asked in a quiet voice:
“Do you think we spoil him?”
He buried his nose against her hair, while he breathed deep, and – as he caught her unique scent – his free hand came to rest on hers, until their fingers entwined and moved slowly from his arm to Mantaro’s small stomach. Together, they felt every rise and fall of breath. They leaned their heads together, while their other hands poked and prodded at Mantaro until he stirred and groaned in a threat to awaken. Suguru laughed, before he held onto a tiny fist and Bibimba held onto the other fist. He asked with a cheerful tone:
“Is that a bad thing?”
“I worry maybe he’ll grow to be entitled,” admitted Bibimba.
“Well, maybe, but I’d rather that than . . . you know?” Suguru shrugged. “I know my parents loved me, but the fact that sort of – well – forgot me one day and just left me to fend for myself -? Our relationship was never the same since! We argued and bickered and I don’t think we ever really respected each other, because I’d this life without him and . . .
“I guess I felt like I didn’t need him? There was also the pressure! He was this champion and king and everyone was all ‘hey, you should follow in his footsteps’ or ‘what about your ancestors’, and I just felt like I was never my own person . . . just this unwanted responsibility whose responsibility – in turn – was to live up to some impossible image. I don’t want Mantaro to grow up burdened or feeling unloved. I want to spoil him.”
“Then can we not spoil him with love?” Bibimba kissed his cheek. “I want to cook his favourite meals, sew his outfits and favourite clothes, and smother him with kisses every night, so he never forgets that he’s loved. You could sit him on your lap to tell bedtime stories, or sit with him after school to help with his homework, and there are so many beautiful places that you could show him on our planet.”
“I always missed those things as a child. I vaguely remember my father dropping me or running off to flirt with someone, but he’d never carry me on his back or sing me to sleep or take me to ride the ponies, but he was still a good father in his own way. Why can’t Mantaro have everything? He can have both love and possessions, right? He deserves the world!”
Bibimba laughed. He barely noticed the turn of her head, but the sudden kiss . . . pressed tight to his lips, lingering with a slight parting and hint of warmth . . . reminded him of their wedding day, where all eyes were on them and yet nothing mattered except each other, and the world may as well have ceased to exist as they grew lost in each other’s eyes. Suguru kissed her back, until they both slowly parted with breathless pants. A tear ran down his cheek, caught by soft kisses and gentle fingers. Bibimba slowly pulled back.
“He has you as a father,” said Bibimba. “He’s already the luckiest boy alive.”
“Nah,” laughed Suguru. “He’s lucky because he has you as a mother. You helped shape me from a no-life boy into an independent man, and you taught me to respect others and to respect myself, and you’ll teach Mantaro to be an amazing man in turn. I know it.”
Suguru threw an arm around her shoulders. He pulled her close and flush against him, while they both kept a hand on Mantaro with interlocked fingers, and he relished the soft curves of her form and flawless skin with which no one could compete. They remained in quiet, with only the perfect gurgles and murmurs breaking through the silence. Each one was more perfect than the one before. Suguru cast his eyes back to their small miracle.
“I just love him so much,” swore Suguru.
“I love him, too,” promised Bibimba.