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Alex sits on the floor of his small, small, small studio apartment with the only source of light being the rays of billboards and street lamps coming in through the window. Across from him, a baby, finally asleep in the carrier Alex brought her home in.
He spent the last of his money tonight on formula, diapers, a bottle, a crib, and this carrier. It was the most chaotic Target trip he had ever run. He’s never seen a checkout cashier so concerned for his well being.
It's nowhere close to everything she’ll need but it will get them to tomorrow.
Tomorrow, which seems like an outlandish idea.
The crib still sits in a box, partially opened, by his bed. He was going to build it tonight but she’d fallen asleep by the time he was gearing to start. He didn’t want to risk waking her up after it took so long for her to settle. He doesn’t even think he has the brain capacity to put something together right now.
He’s staring. Watching her chest rise and fall with each breath. He doesn’t know how he’s ever supposed to stop staring. How could she be safe if he’s not constantly watching her?
With a trembling hand, he picks up his phone and dials the only person he could stand talking to right now.
It’s not the person who answers.
“Alejandro,” Nora greets in a song. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”
Alex unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth. He whispers, “Where’s June?”
“She is brushing her teeth. You good? Why are you whispering?”
“Can you get her please?”
“Alex‒”
“Nora,” Alex snaps then stops breathing as he looks to the carrier. The baby keeps sleeping, thank God, but he still gives it a minute or so. “Put June on the phone.”
There’s shuffling. Hushed and muffled whispers. The sound of a sink turning on and off.
“Alex?” It’s June’s voice finally. “Are you safe? Did something happen?”
“Bug, I…” His eyes sting with tears. It's the first emotion he’s felt other than absolute fog in hours. “I need you.”
“Are you safe? Your location says your apartment. Are you hurt? What's going on?”
“I’m safe. I’m not hurt,” Alex murmurs. His voice cracks, “But something happened and I need you. Here. Please.”
A pause over the line. “Do you want Nora too?”
Alex hesitates. Yes, Nora’s his best friend. Yes, her presence can be a balm on hard days. Yes, she’ll find out anyway. But right now, he just needs his older sister.
“No. Tell her I love her but no.”
June takes a patient breath. “You gotta give me something. Give me something so I don't spend this four hour drive completely spiraling from the thousands of tragic possibilities my brain will come up with.”
Alex pulls the phone away from his ear and slides to his camera. The lighting isn't great but he’s not about to risk it all for some flash. He takes the very first picture of his daughter.
His daughter.
Not some baby.
His daughter.
He sends the photo before he loses his nerve.
“Alex,” June says, carefully and quietly, “What the fuck did you do?”
Hours later, June appears at his doorstep and Alex holds a finger to his lip when he opens the door. Alex had just successfully gotten her back to sleep after a hour-long scream fest resulting in a few clean but wadded up diapers on the floor (Alex fought the sticky adhesive bands and lost) and a bottle that was knocked over, dripping milk onto his kitchen counter. They tiptoe inside, Alex carefully closing the door behind her. She holds a bag of fast food, god bless her. They take their spots on the couch and unwrap burgers like they’re timebombs.
“Who’s her mother?” June whispers.
Alex swallows his bite. “Susie.”
June nods slowly. “And where is she?”
“Um,” Alex breathes. “Not in the picture.”
June’s eyebrows raise and her eyes are deeply concerned, “Alex…did she‒?”
Alex winces, “She’s alive. Jesus, sorry, yeah she’s alive. She just…doesn't want to be a mother.”
June sighs her relief and sips her Coke. Alex scarfs down his burger so fast that June already has another one unwrapped for him by the time he wipes his mouth.
“You didn’t know about her?”
Alex shook his head, “Before last night, I hadn’t spoken to Susie since graduation. She was going to…you know,” Alex makes a vague gesture with his hands. June nods in understanding even if she looks at the baby and winces. “But she couldn’t do it. She called me from the hospital, trying to give me a chance to have a say. It was totally fucked of her.”
“Jesus Christ,” June mutters. “She was going to go up for adoption?”
Alex nods.
“But you stopped them,” June concludes. “You took her home.”
Alex nods again.
“And you want to be her father?”
The next swallow goes down harder after that. Alex’s eyes bounce from June’s earnest face to the sleeping baby. He knows June doesn’t mean harm by her question but it still hollows him out a bit.
“I can’t just…” Alex whispers. “I couldn’t just leave her.”
June’s lips curl into her mouth as she thinks. Her breaths are heavy and they’re making Alex’s anxiety spike.
“Say something,” Alex pleads.
“What do you want me to say?” June asks. “You’re a fucking father. I’m a fucking aunt. It’s all very sudden and I’m scared for you, Alex. I’m scared for her too.”
Alex drops his burger onto the coffee table and buries his face in a throw pillow. He curls his knees to his chest and wants to scream. He settles for barely suffocating himself.
Just as Alex feels June’s arms begin to wrap around him, the baby starts to whimper and rise from her slumber. Alex drops the pillow instantly and drops to the floor beside her carrier.
“Shh,” Alex soothes, picking her up in a cradle. Her whimpers continue as her limbs kick and flail in her sleeping jumper. Alex sits cross-legged on the floor and rocks her. When he thinks he might have stopped the full blown meltdown, she tilts her head back and wails at the top of her tiny lungs.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Alex starts to cry and feels ridiculous when his tears hit her chest. Each one of her cries feels like it's found a new section of his heart to tear to shreds.
“Does she have a pacifier?” June asks over the noise.
Pacifier, fuck. Another thing to add to the list.
“No,” Alex croaks, trying to tuck her closer to his chest.
“A bottle, maybe?” June suggests.
“Kitchen,” Alex answers helplessly. June springs into action while Alex continues to rock her against his chest.
What are you doing? , his mind screams. You don’t know fucking anything about babies.
He wipes his eyes with his outside hand and the movement jostles her, making her more upset.
You can’t care for her. You can’t save her.
“Lo siento, lo siento,” He whispers to her.
I’m sorry.
Please, don’t hate me.
He closes his eyes, her cries piercing his eardrums, and tries to have one coherent thought, which was a feat even before he had an infant in his arms. He’s not even sure where it comes from, it had to be buried deep, deep into the recesses of his mind. But slowly, with a cracky voice, he begins to sing.
“Dormir, dormir, que cantan los gallos de San Agustín,” he begins, then fumbles because the next part of the song is gendered. Instead of singing about beautiful boys, he sings, “Dormir, dormir, las niñas bonitas se duermen aquí.” Sleep, sleep that the roosters of Saint Augustine sing. Sleep, sleep, pretty girls sleep here.
He hums as he tries to remember the next part of the song but her cries seem to lower, even just a fraction. His brain supplies the lyrics, “Soñar, soñar con una estrellita que empieza a brillar.” Dream, dream, with a little star that begins to shine.
His daughter’s cries slow to hiccups and rapid breaths. He rushes to sing, “Dormir, dormir, que cantan los gallos de San Agustín.”
As he repeats those three lines over and over, her cries dissipate like they’d never been there in the first place. He’s smiling and laughing breathlessly as he keeps singing. Soon, she’s blinking up at him and sniffling. Alex thumbs the skin under her nose and eyes, wiping her face clean.
“The prettiest girls sleep here, it’s true,” Alex whispers, tilting her head just so to press a kiss to her forehead. A bottle appears on the coffee table and he looks up to see June staring at them with this awed look in her eye.
“Pa used to sing that to us,” she whispers. “I can’t believe you remember that.”
“I can’t believe it either,” Alex admits.
June carefully sits down next to them. “You know, you sang the version he’d sing to me. Your version had beautiful boys instead but really the original lullaby is about pretty girls.”
“I thought I made that part up, honestly,” Alex laughs through his nose. “What the hell is up with the roosters singing to her?”
June shrugs, “I’m not sure what Saint Augustine has to do with anything either.”
They fall into silence as they gaze upon the little girl whose blinks are getting slower and slower. They’re careful to not disturb the peace created by this momentary bliss. Like he’s moving through molasses, Alex places her back into her carrier as June picks up a blanket to lay on top of her. They move to sit in front of the carrier, their backs against the coffee table and their knees knocking together. When her eyes close for good, it’s another several minutes before one of them speaks.
“She is beautiful,” June whispers.
“That’s all Susie.”
June shakes her head, “No, her features are yours. Have you seen her eyelashes?”
Alex smiles, “Okay, those are mine, I guess.”
“What’s her name?”
Christ, he hasn’t even told June her name, too caught up in his own panic. He turns his head and lifts his eyes to hers, softly illuminated by the light streaming in through the window. Kind, patient eyes that bring more comfort than they ought to.
“Ellen Catalina,” Alex murmurs. “I’m thinking Ellie for short.”
June’s eyes start glistening, “Are you serious?”
“It’s on ink on her birth certificate. It would be a bitch to change at this point‒”
June wraps her arms around him and squeezes him tightly to her. Alex laughs silently and wraps his arms right back. He sinks into her embrace, finally feeling his heart rate slow, even as June sniffles in his ear and smacks him on his back.
“Fuck you for that,” she says, full of sisterly affection.
“I love you too.”
It’s not to say that things immediately get easier after that.
Alex still jolts awake with utter fear that Ellie stopped breathing sometime in the night or that she’s not actually there anymore. That maybe he made her up. But she’s always there. His flesh, his blood.
June calls off work for a week, bless her , and days later, Nora appears at his door with even more baby necessities and a bottle of wine.
“You’re gonna spill and you’re gonna spill right now,” Nora demands.
They sleep in shifts but none of them are used to a baby’s schedule. He hates that he ended up zombie-fying them in the process but he’s so unbelievably grateful that they’re here.
June holds his hand in a not patronizing way to make the round of obligatory phone calls.
The first is work. Alex is nearly comatose when June places the phone in his hand but he needs to make sure he’s not about to get fired for casually not showing up. It’s difficult to find the words to explain how the hell this happened, especially professionally, and when he’s done rambling, his boss heaves a heavy sigh.
“I gotta say, that’s a new one,” His boss says eventually.
“Please. I need this job. I just need to‒”
“I understand. Get your shit together. We’ll use your sick leave until you’re back.”
“Really?”
“I can’t imagine the kind of stress you’re under. I’m not about to take your paycheck too. Nor the lawsuit for firing you for having a child. But you do have to come back at some point, one way or another.”
“Of course. God, thank you. Thank you.”
It’s his parents that end up being the bigger fish to fry. Each day June puts the phone in his hand and each day he hands it back, giving a simple shake of his head. June is patient the first few days but, as they’re all in their twenties, it’s not like they have countless funds to keep Ellie alive. Nor do the girls have infinite time off of work. He needs his parents help. He knows that.
Yet, his stubborn pride rears its ugly head again and again.
Calling his parents makes him feel like a colossal fuck-up. He didn't consciously make a mistake. Unless you count premarital sex with a condom and all necessary precautions taken a mistake. But his daughter’s not a mistake. And she’s depending on him. He knows that too.
One afternoon, June plays dirty by having Ellen already on the phone when she shoves it into his hand with a look that would make God crumble. She points to Ellie laying on a blanket with Nora, “tummy time” as the experts call it. Nora is waving a butterfly toy in her face, making her smile.
“Sugar? Are you there?”
Alex swallows hard and puts the phone to his ear. He tucks himself in the bathroom, the only room with a door in this studio, and braces himself.
“Hi, ma. Are you sitting down?”
It’s an hour of back and forth. Ellen teeters from a concerned, stern parent to an overwhelmed, emotional wreck. Alex knows the feeling. He’s even wiping tears from his face at the end of it.
“I still have my job I just…I need a little extra to‒”
“Hush. I’m having Leo send over some money right now. You call if you need anything. I mean it.”
“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”
“Now figure out how to switch this call to Facetime and show me my damn granddaughter.”
Alex laughs wetly and rejoins the trio in the living room. Ellen’s face, red and blotchy, appears on his screen with Leo lingering behind her. Alex turns the camera and feels their loving gasp heal something deep inside him.
Ellie reaches out for him immediately. He hands the phone to Nora and picks up his daughter into his arms. He lifts one of her arms to wave to the camera and when Ellie laughs for the first time, Alex is certain he’s never heard a more beautiful sound in his life.
His call with Oscar feels much more subdued but he can tell Oscar is just as emotional, in his own way. They’re not great at communicating feelings with one another but he still feels Oscar’s love. He mimics the same Facetime call but this time, Ellie’s asleep in her finally assembled crib.
“Oh mijo ,” Oscar whispers, getting choked up now. “This is a real miracle.”
And she is, isn’t she?
June and Nora eventually leave to get back to their lives, not without bone crushing hugs and whispered words of encouragement. He thanks them profusely and his brain is already conjuring up fantastic birthday presents for them both.
Alex lets out a huge breath against the closed door and shakily walks back into his apartment.
He takes off his shirt and Ellie’s onesie before settling onto the couch. Skin to skin contact is apparently good for her. He arranges her against his chest and rubs her back. She instantly tucks her little head into the crevice between his neck and shoulder, seeking solace in him for far from the last time. Her hand finds his free one and she wraps her little fist around his index finger. Alex chuckles softly and brings her fist to his lips to kiss.
“Just us now, kid,” Alex whispers.
It's a statement that will be repeated many, many times over the course of her life. Sometimes in fear, sometimes in relief, always with the purest form of love.
She makes a noise, some kind of neutral gurgle against his throat, and Alex is aware she can't understand him. However, his foggy, sleep deprived brain convinces him that she’s agreeing with him. That here in this moment, she’s not scared by that.
Years from now, a beautiful man from England will enter their lives and worm his way into their hearts. He’ll become a part of the “us” like he’d been there all along.
But for now, it's truly just Ellie and Alex. Whose eyes are slowly drifting close in this Brooklyn studio as the February winds whip outside. Her heartbeat against his, proof that they’re alive and okay, providing a soothing lullaby.