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It was a three spoon kind of day, Derek could tell as soon as he woke up that morning. Some days he had a five full spoons of energy, ready to do the laundry and the dishes and take care of Hastur, maybe even go to the park. Some days were one spoon days, where his only goal was to keep himself and the baby alive until Avery got home from class. Forget the laundry and dishes and the other things, just make sure the baby is fed and clean and in a relatively good mood. But most days were three spoon days. He could do some things but tired quickly. This was how he decided that the grocery store was the first task to get out of the way.
“Come on, Hastur,” Derek said, buckling him into his stroller. This was the full-sized one as the hybrid stayed in Avery's car. “Let's go get our meds.”
By the Grace of God, the grocery store was across the street from their apartment building. Derek couldn't drive due to his lack of depth perception and he didn't have the energy to wait around on a bus. But he could cross the street.
“Do you want more puffies?” he asked Hastur as they entered the sliding doors. “I think we're almost out. Maybe we'll get you some applesauce, too. I know you like that.”
Hastur liked going to the store. There were all sorts of fun things to look at that he didn't get to see at home. His Papa consulted him on every purchase, asking him his opinion of things, and he answered as honestly as any eight month old could.
“How do you feel about green beans for dinner?” Derek asked, showing him a frozen bag of vegetables, not fresh because fresh was too hard to manage. Hastur reached out and pat the icy bag with his hand before withdrawing in mild shock. Derek laughed. “It's cold, huh?” He put the bag of green beans on the bottom of the stroller next to the diaper bag. They continued down the aisles.
“Look at this,” Derek said, showing him a jar of salsa next. “This one's Dad's favorite. I prefer the salsa verde flavor, but this one's not bad. Maybe we can have nachos for dinner.” He put the jar of salsa with the green beans, Hastur straining his little body forward to look. “Do you think Dad would like to have nachos?”
“Ah!” Hastur said. Derek smiled.
“Yeah,” he said. “I think so, too.”
Next was the snack aisle with the Little Debbie cakes, puddings, and other lunchbox treats. They stopped by the shelves of applesauce. He reached for the no sugar added kind because babies didn't need all that junk in their bodies just yet, but paused.
“They have strawberry flavor now,” Derek said. “Should we try that, too?” He held the package down to Hastur, letting him feel the cardboard case and smooth cups of strawberry, no sugar added applesauce. Hastur considered it very seriously. And then he slapped the package away. “Alright,” Derek said. “We can try it next time.” He put the strawberry stuff back on the shelf and grabbed the usual fair. “Let's go pick up Papa's meds now.”
He wheeled the stroller to the pharmacy, standing in line behind someone's grandma and a kid with bright purple hair, nudging the stroller back and forth to keep Hastur in motion. The baby began to fuss as Derek spoke with the pharmacist, but both ignored him for the moment. Derek got his pills, some for the headaches, some for the muscle aches, some for the insomnia, and some for the anxiety and depression. The first three were new additions after the whole being-blasted-with-all-the-knowledge-in-the-universe thing.
“Alright,” he said, sticking the paper bag full of pill bottles in the side pocket of the diaper bag, “let's go buy our stuff.”
It was just his luck that his SNAP card wasn't cooperating. The baby was now crying in earnest, and there was a line behind him, and Derek had to try swiping his card five separate times before giving up and paying with his credit card. Ouch, that was gonna hurt his bank account. It was only four items, but he still felt it.
“We'll have to check our SNAP account later, kiddo.”
They went home and Derek stuffed the bag of frozen green beans in the freezer. His spoons were already running out. Diaper. Change that and then you can collapse. So he did (it was a bad one, thank goodness) and then laid down on the floor of Hastur's room, letting him crawl around as Papa stared at the ceiling.
Derek was a horrible father.
Hastur brought him toys, which he accepted with a smile, pantomiming the stuffies kissing his little cheeks and putting the blocks and cars on his head, making the baby laugh. Then Hastur put his rainbow xylophone directly on his papa's chest and began to play, banging on the keys to make them ring.
“Am I a good papa, Hastur?” he asked.
“Ah!” the baby said emphatically. Derek smiled.
“Thanks, kiddo.”
Before long, it was lunch time. His last spoon was running on fumes now. But Derek hauled himself up and put the baby in his high chair. Almost nap time. He just had to finish this jar of carrot and potato mash and then Hastur could be put down for a nap and then Derek could put himself down for a nap. So that's what happened. Derek put the baby monitor right by his face on the nightstand and slept. He dreamt horrible, graphic things that he should never had had to witness, but witnessed anyway because of the being in the next room over. Please hurry home, Avery.
Dad was there when Derek woke up, he could hear him talking to the baby in the living room, could hear Hastur's laughter as a raspberry was blown on his stomach.
Avery was a good dad, better than him because Derek could not even leave the bed to help. He didn't go back to sleep, though, content to listen to his boyfriend playing with their baby. His boyfriend playing with their baby. What a radical sentence to think.
“My boyfriend is playing with our baby,” he whispered to himself. It was even more radical to speak. He smiled and kept listening.
About an hour later, the door to the bedroom opened slowly, Avery peeking his head in. Derek looked at him, wanting to smile but having no energy to do so. Avery smiled for him.
“Hey, Papa,” he said softly, coming into the room.
“Where's the baby?”
“In the exersuacer,” Avery said. Derek could here the music playing from the garbage speakers as Hastur spun the toys attached to it. Avery approached the bed and sat on the edge of it. “One spoon day?”
“It started off three,” Derek said, closing his eyes again.
“I'll make dinner. You just rest.”
“I bought the salsa you like.”
“Yeah, I saw. Thank you.” Avery stood up, but Derek needed to know something.
“Avery, am I a good father?” he asked.
“The best,” Avery replied at once, smile in his voice.
“My dad left when I was eight,” Derek said, but Avery already knew this. That kind of thing came up when you had a baby of your own.
“You're not your dad.”
“What if I am?” Derek knew it wasn't his fault, knew that his deadbeat dad would've left regardless of what it happened to be that made the marriage to his mother hard. But the words I don't want that kid could not be forgotten. All the knowledge in the universe couldn't push them out. Avery came around to his side of the bed and leaned down.
“Give me a kiss,” was all he said. They kissed, soft and chaste. “You got too much of your mom in you.”
“That's a weird thing to say after kissing me.”
Avery laughed, standing up straight. “You know what I mean,” he said.
“Yeah.” Derek smiled. “I know. Now go make dinner.”
Avery laughed again, a small chuckle. “At your service, my lord.” Derek groaned. He hated when Avery called him that because it was so cringe, and Avery loved calling him that because it was so cringe. But Derek had an ace up his sleeve.
“Thank you, my prince.”
“Uuugh! Gross.”
Derek was too tired to laugh, but his grin said enough.