Читать книгу The Changeling - Victor LaValle - Страница 32

BRIAN LET THEM sleep in the next morning, didn’t wake until five A.M. A new record. Apollo had been awake since three. The old record. His body anticipated Brian’s wake-up, and he couldn’t convince his nervous system to rest again. Anyway, he had all the book excitement brewing, too.

Though it should be a wholly unnecessary step, he decided to hire an appraiser through the American Society of Appraisers so he’d have outside certification of the book’s authenticity. Big outfits like Bauman’s had their reputations for quality and rare books, but a guy like Apollo might need some outside body to assure potential buyers.

By five, Emma’s breasts were so full, they hurt her. They’d become used to the three o’clock wake-up, too. Apollo brought Brian to her. She fed him lying on her side, feeding and cuddling him while still largely asleep. When she finished, she forced herself up to change his diaper.

“I’ll take him to the park,” Apollo whispered.

Emma nodded and grinned appreciatively and tried to kiss her husband but didn’t have the energy to stay upright, so she fell back into bed and rolled the blankets around her until she looked like an enormous enchilada. Today would be Emma’s second day back to work, and another two hours of sleep might mean the difference between showing up incredibly tired instead of utterly drained. Apollo kitted up, dressed the baby and himself warmly, slipped Brian into the Björn, and they were out by five-thirty.

Apollo had become one of those men. The New Dads. So much better than the Old Dads of the past. New Dads wear their children. New Dads change the baby’s diaper three times a night. New Dads do the dishes and the laundry. New Dads cook the meals. New Dads read the infant development books and do more research online. New Dads apply coconut oil to the baby’s crotch to avoid diaper rash. New Dads bake sweet potatoes, then grind them in the blender once the baby is old enough for solid foods. New Dads carry the diaper bag—really a big old purse—without awareness of shame. New Dads are emotionally available. New Dads do half the housework (really more like 35 percent, but that’s still so much better than zero). New Dads fix all the mistakes the Old Dads made. New Dads are the future, or at least they plan to be, but since they’re making all this shit up as they go along, New Dads are also scared as hell.

Five-thirty in the morning, and the parents were already out at Bennett Park. There were moms in a huddle at one end of the playground, over by the swings. Apollo sought out the other New Dads. Four of them already there, by the padded play squares. Apollo made five. Most of them in their thirties or early forties. One guy might be fifty, or just in terrible shape.

Apollo greeted the other fathers, and they greeted him. He didn’t remember their names. They didn’t remember his. They knew the names of each other’s children, and that mattered more.

“Brian!” the men called, one by one, as Apollo unhooked the Björn.

Apollo greeted the other kids, Meaghan and Imogen, Isaac and Shoji. The children weren’t required to respond. The greetings had been for each parent to hear.

Apollo set Brian on his belly on the black rubber padding while the other kids tore around the play equipment. At two months old, Brian remained, by far, the youngest. Meaghan and Imogen flickered with interest at the sight of the baby. Isaac and Shoji completely ignored him. While on his belly, Brian puckered his lips and basically kissed the ground a few times before Apollo rolled him onto his back. Brian reached out, and Apollo slipped a set of large, plastic toy keys into the baby’s hand. Brian gripped and yanked and stared at the keys. He shook them wildly. His face practiced expressions, squinting at the keys, pursing his lips as if he were suspicious of them.

The other dads crowded closer and asked after Brian’s development like coaches eyeballing a rival player. Had Brian rolled over on his own yet? Transferred objects from one hand to the other? Raked up Cheerios by himself? The fathers bandied these questions about, half curious and half competitive, but Apollo didn’t mind. In fact, he enjoyed it just as much as them. He said nothing of the tremendous book he’d found the day before. Why would he? None of these men talked about their jobs, or their hopes and dreams, not when there were children to discuss. Apollo took out his phone and snapped a dozen pictures of Brian there on the rubber matting. The post from yesterday—the pictures of Brian in the Riverdale basement—had been a hit, at least the first few. Apollo logged onto Facebook and, just to be thorough, uploaded the images he’d just taken. All twelve.