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The first time Shane googles postpartum anxiety is after a 3 a.m. text from Ryan that says:
Ryan: how long will it take for CPS to find out if I haven't taken Dan outside yet?
Ryan: scratch that
Ryan: what would they do if they find out?
Ryan: they wouldn't just take him from me right?
It isn't abnormal for Ryan to be up at that hour texting Shane between Dan's feedings and crying fits - something about the frantic succession of texts sticks with Shane.
As it turns out postpartum anxiety is a real thing, and not just something Shane picked up from Twitter. He makes it to the end of three Google Scholar articles before he forces himself to get ready for the day. Before he climbs out of bed he sends Ryan a response.
Shane: if your theory is correct (which I don't think it is) that the government is always screening all of our messages and it's already too late for you
Immediately three dots appear in the message bubble, indicating Ryan is on the other end also typing. Shane adds,
Shane: all jokes aside
Shane: why not ease into it by bringing him over to my place for lunch?
The text bubble disappears.
Shane: I'll make babka
Ryan: i’m trying to lose the baby weight
Then follows,
Ryan: deal.
If Shane had other plans that day he promptly forgets all of them. After a replenishing shower succeeded by a mustache shave, Shane begins to tidy around the place. Nothing exhausting like vacuuming or doing his laundry, but keeping up an 'effortless' ordinary appearance.
Around 11 he texts Ryan to let him know babka will be ready in an hour. Ryan shows up on the dot, exactly a minute to midday.
Shane mentally prepares himself not to be a gawking DILF chasing creep when he opens the door, but fails miserably at the sight of Ryan's hot, albeit exhausted, appearance. Nobody should legally be allowed to hold a baby carrier seat whilst wearing thigh-hugging shorts. Fuck me, Shane thinks. What Shane says is, "hey man."
"Hey! Smells good in here." Ryan sticks his neck out to really take a whiff of the apartment. Shane holds the door open wide so Ryan and Dan can fit through the door together, carrier, backpack and all. "Thanks for inviting us."
"Can I help with anything?" Shane asks.
Ryan begins to shrug off his backpack without accepting assistance. Shane cannot resist taking the bag off him when Ryan doesn't put Dan's carrier down. He gives Shane a tight but grateful smile as a thanks. "Serving up the food you promised would be nice?"
"I can do that." On his way to the kitchen he wants to turn back to tell Ryan to make himself comfortable, but weeks spent at Ryan's flat have made it so that Ryan does not need to be told, and has already taken Dan out of his seat to sprawl out on Shane's couch together. Shane has faltered mid-step and bumps into the island counter, getting the air knocked out of him.
Ryan looks up from adjusting Dan's little onesie. "You good?" he asks, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
"Perfect." Shane breathes in.
Two big portions of babka later, Shane sits on the floor with his legs crossed and leaned back on his palms, with Dan on the floor next to him, feet kicking out, fresh from a diaper change and flushed from a bit of milk. These moments are nice, and Dan does have a cute little frown that makes its shining appearance every time they make eye contact today, but Shane secretly can't wait for him to start talking.
That reminds Shane, Ryan hasn't said anything in a while. He is chewing on the end of his fork, his plate long empty. Whatever he is staring at in the distance, it's not there when Shane looks at the same point. "What are you thinking about?" Shane asks.
The first thing Ryan does after startling out of his daydreaming is to put a soothing palm on Dan's belly. Dan's frown melts to make way for what Shane almost believes to be a real smile. Ryan's eyes are drawn down at him, his mouth is smiling but his eyes are not. "Be honest with me?"
Shane sits up straighter. "Shoot."
"Is it considered child abuse that Danny hasn't been outside?"
Shane's first reaction is no, don't be ridiculous , and his second reaction is that it is crazy that Ryan is doing this baby-raising alone, that he has to ask himself these questions every day. The third thing his mind produces is finally good enough to say out loud.
"I don't know about that, but I do know that it's considered Ryan abuse that you haven't had fresh air in a quarter year."
"It's not been a quarter of a year." But some color has drained from Ryan's face with the realisation that it has.
"Three months, Ryan. It's a quarter year." Shane is about to give this man a quarter life crisis with just a matter-of-fact voice and too many little facts if he doesn't watch himself. "But you gotta cut yourself some slack, man. Nobody is going to come after you for being overly cautious with your baby. Well, perhaps Facebook moms who are in those cruel baby-raising groups. But I'm pretty confident they don't work for CPS."
Ryan snorts, he slowly drags his eyes up from Dan to Shane. "It's so weird, but whenever I think about it, I think, what's the worst that could happen? And then I think, I could be murdered by some fucked-up jogger just running past us and Dan would be an orphan. Or what if we are both murdered and he would go to heaven while I would go to hell and we would never see each other again. Does that make any sense?"
"Well no, because there is no heaven or hell." He quickly continues before Ryan can successfully verbalise his spluttering protest, "but what I'm getting is that you're anxious about taking him outside."
"It was a big step even taking him to come here."
"I know." Shane boops the little boy's nose. Dan's arms raise to catch onto Shane's hand or to swat him away. Shane remains just out of reach of those sticky little fists, but within range to keep the game alive. "You've had your family bring you groceries, you work from home, you haven't been outside for three months yourself and you just had a baby. It makes sense it's scary and that it feels new."
Ryan hums. He leans his head on his hand and sits with his thoughts. Shane lets him simmer in them for a short while until Dan finally manages to capture Shane's pinky finger with both wrists. This accomplishment generates an earnest burst of saliva bubbles. Shane congratulates him on his dandy work with a 'hand' shake, before retreating altogether. He follows Ryan's line of sight, which is directly at the baby carrier. Shane begins to wonder why Ryan took it with him in the first place if not to use it. "How much did you pay for that baby-seater thing?"
"Dunno. 200 dollars?"
"That's it." Shane clasps his hands together. Dan squeals, clearly delighted, finally something is happening. "We're using it."
Ryan's head slips out of his hand. "Shane..."
"Come on." Shane takes Ryan's arms and makes him get up. "It will be fun. Come now." He deliberately hands the baby seat over to Ryan. "You hold your baby, I'll take the other stuff."
Every muscle in Ryan's face contorts like he bit into a rotten melon. "I don't know about this."
Shane quickly gathers the blanket he keeps by the sofa, hand sanitiser, and the final batch of babka with a fork. When he turns around, Ryan has not moved from being frozen in the middle of the room. "I'll focus on all this, you just mind your baby. I know you can do that."
"Shane..." Ryan's voice pitches.
"No, no, you're fine. Come on." Shane slings Ryan's backpack over one shoulder. Turns, and waits, until he hears shuffling, Dan gurgles as he is being picked up and strapped into the seat with two safety clicks. Shane turns around with an overly confident smile that hides how happily surprised he is that Ryan is ready to move out despite the hunch of his shoulders. "Let's get you some fresh air."
Going down the flight of stairs isn't easy with the bulk of a baby seater, Shane realizes he wouldn't recommend Ryan doing this alone any time soon with manoeuvring the key to the building, holding the door open and wrestling the baby and himself through. The good thing is that Ryan doesn't have to do this alone. That is not what this trip is about.
They finish their walk shortly when Shane leads them to the patch of grass across from their building where a big tree shades the sidewalk and the poor excuse of a 'park'. The good thing is that it is not appealing to neighbourhood kids, but yet big enough to be classified as a garden with no access to roads with cars.
Ryan almost look like he doesn't need to throw up from anxiety when Shane rolls out his blanket indicating their final destination.
Shane points upwards, "look at that, it's just a stone's throw away from where we live."
After a moment of hesitation, Ryan puts Dan's seat on the grass. It takes an even longer moment for him to unsnap the straps and let Dan down on the blanket, snuck between their bodies. Shane offers him a glop of hand sanitiser second to the fork for the traybake of babka he brought with him.
With clean hands, Ryan drapes a thin blanket over Dan. "Not for nap time, but against the sun, in case any of it comes for him between the tree branches."
Shane snorts, and imagines tanning despite the shade and stretches his legs out.
While Ryan finishes bundling him up Dan is looking directly at Shane and he looks pissed at the least, mildly disgusted at worst. This would be a wildly inappropriate time to ask him what his problem is today, but Shane has to scratch his chin with wonder what he has done to deserve the stink eye.
Then Ryan points out, "he doesn't like you without the mustache."
"What?" Shane startles at being noticed, really because Ryan still has his attention on Dan. "Why?"
"You're basically a new person to him. He is 10 times worse than iPhone facial recognition."
"That-" Shane realizes, "explains a lot."
After letting a laugh, Ryan falls back on his elbows with a deep breath of fresh air.
For a second time, Shane offers him the singular fork he brought for the food. Ryan puts the tray in his lap and begins to dig in for a second helping. Shane doesn't mean to stare, although it is hard not to when Ryan is looking so very content with each moment of peace allowing him to relax more.
Ryan notices Shane’s unbroken smile and ducks in his head. "Hey, I'm a stress eater."