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Faded dreams become anew.
Just remember to hold tight,
And fight for what you love.
For our lost ones will watch over,
And keep us safe from up above.
“We should name him Henry,”Kat suggests as we walk into the house. The homes near the Manhattan Bridge are an expensive area to live, but the park is close, and this school district is where Kat wants to live for our little one, so how could I say no?
She tosses the keys onto the side table, walking past a row of cardboard boxes and a stack of dishes I brought back from the old place last night. “I’ve thought a lot about it. And I think we should.”
“Henry.” I say my father’s name and a swell of unexpected emotion catches me off guard. I slip the jacket off my shoulders and move to busy myself, opening the window in the dining room and ignoring the look Kat gives me.
“I know it hasn’t been a long time since he passed,” Kat says. “It feels like it was yesterday.”
She holds her swollen abdomen and drags out the head chair in the dining room. At least this room is mostly put together. Kat’s nesting has her up all hours and doing shit she shouldn’t do. Like carrying heavy boxes and climbing on the furniture to hang curtains. She’s ever the stubborn one.
“I wish he were here with us,” she murmurs and gets teary eyed; she’s been crying a lot more recently, probably due to the third trimester pregnancy hormones. “But we can give him this, you know?”
Her voice is tight with emotion and I nod my head, understanding what she’s saying but not wanting to voice it.
The wind blows through the house. It’s warm for late March. The breeze gently moves the napkins on the table so I’m quick to tuck them into the holder and attempt to form a response. I miss my father. More than I ever could have imagined.
“He’d have loved to help us move down here.” I say the thought out loud to offer her something.
“At least this time you hired movers,” Kat says with a bit of humor, but her voice is solemn.
She winces with pain and grabs ahold of her belly, her eyes closed tight and my heart races.
“Babe?” She ignores me, just like she’s been doing. For some unknown reason, I continue to think she’ll respond during these Braxton-Hicks contractions.
Hovering over her, I eye her carefully then walk slowly to her and wait, afraid to do anything wrong.
I may have made mistakes while learning to be a good husband, but Pops showed me how to be a good father and I won’t let him down.
“Oh my gosh, that was a long one.” Kat finally breathes out as her body visibly relaxes.
“Do you want to go in?” My nerves are all on edge. I’m terrified, but I won’t tell Kat. I’ve never even held a child, let alone having one depend on me to live.
Kat rolls her eyes at me. “For one contraction? I think not.”
She reaches into the bag at her feet and pulls out a water bottle. “Besides, I read a baby comes when you’re ready and relaxed, and we have four more rooms to set up and get settled in before I’ll be anywhere near relaxed. And another two weeks until our due date.”
A huff of humor leaves me and I move the top box off the nearest stack, ripping the tape back to expose what’s inside.
“So, what do you think?” she asks me.
“About what?”
“About naming him Henry?” She tilts her head to the side and her long hair falls over her shoulder.
“I think Pops would have loved that,” I say, getting out the answer before my throat goes tight and take in a deep breath. “I think he’d be proud.”
Lowering myself to the floor in front of her, I let my hands rest on her thighs and bring my forehead down to rest on her belly. “What do you think?” I ask our son and Kat’s belly shakes as she laughs.
“You think it’s funny, but he’s going to know my voice.” Kat doesn’t hesitate to lean down and kiss me. The first one is a peck on my cheek, but then she moves her hand to my jaw and keeps me still for a longer one, a deeper one.