Free Simple Man by Lydia Michaels Page B

guy?”
    The baby babbled up at him. He took that as a yes.
    At the counter he opened a container of formula and filled the bottle, then he noticed the measurements on the side. Four ounces was nothing, only about a third of the bottle. Dumping some back in the container, he stuck the extra in the fridge next to a six-pack. He needed to go to the grocery store.
    He placed the bottle on the coffee table and stood over the baby. With extreme care, he scooped him off the floor, supporting the back of his fuzzy head. He was warm and soft.
    A string of drool dribbled down his chin. “Okay.” Shane sat on the sofa and adjusted Baby Shane in his arms. Something expanded deep in his belly as if he just rolled down a steep hill. Baby Shane’s slight weight settled into the curve of his arm. “Does this look right?”
    Duce shrugged and stood back as though afraid to get too close.
    “Hand me that blanket.” The baby’s jumper remained undone like the tails of a tux.
    Duce handed him the soft, blue blanket and he carefully wrapped his legs. Staring down at his nephew, he smiled. He was looking back at him. Shane saw a world of trust in those small eyes, faith. If he tried to talk in that moment he would have failed miserably. Emotion welled up inside of him. The baby had Noel’s nose.
    Shane nodded. “The bottle,” he said in a soft, hoarse voice. Duce handed it to him. Leaning back, he tilted the nipple to the baby’s mouth. A few drops of white sprinkled on his porcelain skin.
    It only took a second for Baby Shane to latch on. His lips pulled with a tight force he wasn’t prepared for. Shane laughed. “You’re hungry.”
    Suddenly the baby opened his mouth and cried. Shane looked at Duce in a moment of panic. He tried to coax the nipple back into his mouth, but Baby Shane wanted nothing to do with it. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. Look in the book.”
    He gently bounced his knee as Duce flipped through the book. Baby Shane continued to cry, growing more upset by the second.
    “Did you warm it? It says some babies prefer the formula slightly warm.”
    “It was room temperature. I don’t know. Should I have put it in the microwave?”
    Duce turned pages frantically as Baby Shane worked himself into a shrill scream. “No, it says not to microwave it because of hot spots.” He read silently then went to the sink and turned the water on high. Within moments it was steaming out of the spigot. He grabbed a plastic cup and filled it. “Here, give me the bottle.”
    Shane handed him the bottle and tried to soothe his inconsolable nephew. Duce dropped the bottle in the cup of hot water and they waited. He worried he was failing, failing his nephew, failing his sister. He needed to get this right. Feeding was part of passing Baby 101. He’d already conquered the poop fiasco.
    “There, try that,” Duce said, passing him the bottle.
    “Wait, squirt some on your arm. Moms do that.”
    Duce shot a line of white up his arm and stared at him. “Now what?”
    “I don’t know. What does it feel like?”
    “It feels like someone just squirted me with milk. What’s it supposed to feel like?”
    “Lick it. Is it hot?”
    “I’m not licking that! It’s imitation boob milk.”
    Shane rolled his eyes. “What’s the difference between that and milk from a cow’s udders?”
    “I don’t fantasize about cows. You’re gonna ruin boobs for me. You lick it.” He held out his arm.
    “I’m not licking your hairy arm. Does it feel hot? I think that’s supposed to test the temperature.”
    Duce grew frustrated and shouted over Baby Shane’s angry squalls. “It feels fine. Plug that kid up. He’s giving me a migraine.”
    Shane took the bottle and tipped it toward his nephew’s mouth. The baby shivered and latched on. He waited. The baby began to suck and continued this time. Shane smiled triumphantly at Duce.
    “The cup is key. Remember that next time.”
    They both sat, transfixed, watching little Shane guzzle