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Artwork by Lademonessa
Nate sat on his knees on the bench of the booth he shared with Oliver at Big Belly. Father and son had spent the morning with Nate’s pediatric eye specialist and the little boy had requested a visit to Big Belly as his treat. A large strawberry milkshake sat in front of the four-year-old and he sat admiring it with unabashed delight. Oliver placed a straw into the glass and pushed it closer to his son. Nate wrapped his hands around the bottom of the glass and sucked hard on the straw. His eyes went wide behind the lenses of his glasses as he tried to get some of the thick milkshake up the straw and into his mouth. Oliver knew the moment that the shake touched his child’s tongue because Nate’s eyes began to twinkle with happiness and his butt wiggled back and forth. Oliver laughed at the sight. He was amazed by how much his son was like his mom, “Is it any good?”
Nate let go of the straw and smiled at his dad. “Yes,” he pushed the glass towards his dad, “you should try some.”
Oliver took a small sip of the milkshake. His time on the island had eliminated his sweet tooth, and the ice cream tasted overly sweet and cloying. “It’s delicious,” he pushed the glass back to Nate’s side of the table.
Nate took another sip of his shake and then rested his elbow on the table. He laid his cheek against his hand and looked at his dad, “Why don’t you or da or Will or Bobby wear glasses?”
“Your mom wears glasses,” Oliver reminded his son.
“Yeah, but she’s a girl,” Nate responded.
“Why does that make a difference?” Oliver challenged his son.
Nate sighed, “I know. I know. Boys can run big companies and girls can raise families too.”
Oliver covered his smile with his hand. Raising children within an unconventional relationship had made Oliver and his spouses mindful of intolerance and they endeavored to raise their children with a belief in equality. They didn’t want their children thinking that they were any better or worse than anyone else because of their race, gender, religion, wealth or sexuality. The children attended schools where the classrooms mirrored the diversity of the city. One of the unintended consequences of the choices Oliver, Felicity and Tommy had made about child rearing had led their children to believe that mommies had busy careers and daddies raised children. Oliver was kind of lost in the shuffle because the children honestly didn’t understand what he did all day and they definitely didn’t know what he got up to at night, they just knew that his daytime schedule was much more flexible than their mommy’s. “Yes, maybe you or one of your brothers might like to run QC one day, but I was talking about glasses. Boys and girls wear glasses. Glasses aren’t a boy thing or a girl thing, they are a people thing.”
Nate shrugged his small shoulders, “Why don’t you wear them?”
“I don’t need them,” Oliver said simply, “and neither do your brothers. Your da has to wear them when he needs to read tiny print.”
“But why do I have to wear them if Bobby and William don’t?” Nate asked earnestly.
“Because your eyes need help to see and your brothers don’t. It’s no different from how your hair is blonde and Bobby’s hair is dark,” Oliver wished Felicity was there. She was always better at explaining science to the kids.
“Becca says my eyes are broken because I got dropped on my head,” Nate informed him.
Oliver shook his head at his daughter’s tall tales, “You didn’t get dropped on your head.”
“Are you sure?” he asked as he used both hands to feel his head. “Mommy drops a lot of things.”
“I’m sure,” Oliver promised. “Your sister is just pulling your leg.”
“If I wasn’t dropped on my head, why are my eyes broken?” Nate removed his straw from his milkshake and licked the thick shake stuck to it.
“Do you remember how your mom, dad and I told you that you and Prue were born early?” Nate nodded and stuck his straw back into his glass. “Well, you and your sister were tiny when you were born and you caught a virus that weakened your eyes.”
“What’s a virus?” Nate asked.
“It is something that makes you sick,” Oliver explained.
“Did Prue get the virus?” Nate took another sip of his shake.
“No, Prue didn’t get the virus,” Oliver answered. Prue’s medical issues had been terrifying in a far more immediate sense. When he looked back on trying to get pregnant, Felicity’s pregnancy and the first year of the twins’ lives, he was amazed that his marriage had survived it. There was a time that he’d feared that their love wasn’t going to be enough to save their marriage. In the end, they got through it and were stronger for it.
“If my eyes are sick can’t I take medicine and make them better?” Nates blue eyes peered at him hopefully.
Oliver wished it was that simple, “Medicine won’t fix your eyes. When you’re a little bit older, the doctor thinks he’ll be able to do an operation that will make your eyes a lot better.” Oliver’s heart clenched as he remembered the appointment with the pediatrician when she’d told them her concerns about Nate’s inability to follow an object. When the doctor had said there was a possibility of neurological impairment, it was all Oliver could do to keep his legs from buckling. All he’d ever wanted to do was to protect his family, but there were things that even he couldn’t fight. The relief he’d felt had been overwhelming when an ophthalmologist had told them that there was nothing neurologically wrong with Nate and that he just had incredibly poor eyesight that could be corrected with glasses.
“An operation like Prue had on her tummy?” Nate was fascinated with the small white scars on his twin’s belly and often drew matching scars on his own belly in magic marker.
“Yes, but your operation will be on your eyes instead of your belly,” Oliver said patiently.
Nate sat up and returned his straw to his glass and attempted to take another sip. After he swallowed a mouthful he asked, “Will I be as tall as you or da or William when I grow up?”
Oliver laughed, “I don’t know.”
“Why not?” he asked. “Uncle Roy told Aunt Thea that you’re a know it all.”
Oliver could only imagine what he’d done to piss off his brother-in-law in order to get that moniker. There were so many incidents to pick from and he had no doubt that it was Arrow related. He smiled, “That might be so, but I still don’t know how tall you’ll be.”
“Gramps, Grandpa Walt and Uncle John are all taller than you,” Nate took another sip of his shake.
“They are all taller than me,” Oliver agreed with amusement.
“Da is shorter than you,” Nate said.
“That is also true,” Oliver chuckled.
“I think William is the same as you,” Nate returned to sucking on his straw.
“I think that you’re right,” Oliver ruffled his son’s hair.
“I want to be the tallest ever,” Nate informed him earnestly.
“Why?” Oliver asked with genuine curiosity. He never tired of listening to his children and their ideas about the world and their place in it.
“If I’m the tallest ever, I can reach the Play-Doh,” Nate said logically.
Oliver laughed. Tommy had hidden the Play-Doh on the top shelf of their bedroom closet after Nate had ruined their dining room rug. Tommy had originally placed the colorful clay in the cupboard above the refrigerator, but Nate had opened the refrigerator and freezer doors and used the shelves to scale his way to the cupboard. Tommy and Felicity had been horrified by the behavior, but Oliver had been pretty proud. He and Roy had been doing some baby parkour with the twins and they’d taken to it, as illustrated by the fridge incident. Much to Nate’s consternation, Tommy now rationed the Play-Doh like it was morphine during the Civil War. Oliver didn’t want to disappoint his son with the news that by the time he’d be able to reach the shelf, he’d no longer want to play with it, “You’ll be as tall as you’re supposed to be.”
“All of my friends are taller than me,” Nate complained. “I don’t like being the smallest.”
Oliver knew the height thing was a great frustration for his son, “It’s not always easy being different, but just because you’re small it doesn’t mean that you can’t do what your friends do. Look at all the cool stuff your Uncle Roy can do. He can climb the same things I can.”
Nate smiled, “Uncle Roy can do flips that you can’t do.”
“That’s right,” Oliver agreed even though the flipping thing was now more a matter of his age than it was because of his height. To spare his knees, Oliver only flipped if it was absolutely necessary and, according to Felicity, it was never absolutely necessary unless gunfire was involved.
Their conversation ended as Nate happily returned to drinking his milkshake. He noisily slurped every last drop from the bottom and sides of the glass. He sat back in the booth and closed his eyes, “That was good.”
“I’m glad you liked it,” Oliver delighted in his son’s pleasure. He wished he was able to derive such happiness from a strawberry milkshake, although, maybe he had by just watching Nate.
Nate opened his eyes and looked at his dad seriously, “Why were we born early?”
Oliver placed his arms on the table and leaned towards his son, “Your mommy got very sick and the doctors decided that you and your sister needed to be born early so mommy could get better.”
“Did we make her sick?” Nate’s brow was creased with worry.
“No,” Oliver reached for his son’s small hands, “you and your sister didn’t make your mommy sick.”
“I heard mommy say that she was sad when we were born,” Nate crumpled his napkin in one of his hands. “Did mommy not want us?”
“Hey,” Oliver stood up and moved to the other side of the booth and pulled his son onto his lap. “When did you hear mommy say that?”
“It was on YouTube. I was looking for her rocket video, but then I saw her in her pretty red dress and I clicked on it,” he said shamefacedly. “She was talking to a woman about being sad,” Nate played with the buttons on the front of Oliver’s shirt.
“What’s our rule about YouTube?” Oliver asked sternly. There was way too much hateful material about the three of them for their children to randomly watch videos with their names associated with them.
“We don’t look for your names on YouTube and we don’t watch any videos about you unless we ask first,” Nate repeated the rule.
“Okay.” Oliver tipped his son’s head so that he was looking at him. Nate’s blue eyes were wet and tears threatened to fall, “I’m not angry with you. We just don’t want you watching videos that you might not understand.” Felicity had done an interview with Bethany Snow about postpartum depression to bring attention to the issue, destigmatize the illness and to encourage mothers to seek help from their doctors.
“Like mommy being sad about us being born,” Nate responded.
Oliver hugged his son and rested his chin on top of his head. How do you explain postpartum depression to a child? “Your mommy wasn’t sad about you and your sister. She was so excited when she found out that she was pregnant with you two. We all were. She loved you both so much from the moment she knew about you.” Oliver lifted Nate up and sat him on the table so they were eye level, “What does it feel like when Bobby sneaks up on you and scares you?”
Nate was thoughtful for a moment, “My heart goes really fast and my hands shake.”
Oliver nodded, “Well, it was kind of like that for mommy after you were born. She was so worried about the two of you being safe when you were born so early, her brain started racing. She thought about it all of the time. Even when you guys came home from the hospital, her brain kept racing and she kept worrying, even when there wasn’t anything to worry about.”
“And that made her sad?” Nate asked.
“It did. She didn’t want to worry all of the time.” Oliver had no idea if his words were helping his son to understand, “Does that make sense?”
“Is she still sad?” Nate asked quietly.
Oliver took hold of his son’s shoulders, “No, she isn’t sad anymore. She hasn’t been for a long time. She took some medicine that helped her brain to stop racing.”
Nate sighed with relief, “Good, I don’t want mommy to be sad.” An impish grin spread across his face, “Maybe we should bring her a milkshake just to make sure.”
Oliver crushed his son to his chest and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, “That sounds like an excellent plan. What flavor should we get her? Strawberry?”
Nate wriggled from Oliver’s arms and then he climbed from the booth and looked at his dad like he’d suggested an octopus flavored shake, “No, daddy. Her favorite is mint chocolate chip.”
Oliver laughed as Nate went to stand in line to order his mom a milkshake. He placed a tip on the table, texted his wife and Jerry to warn them to expect an unexpected visit and then went to join his son.