Page 96 of The Lucky List
“There are too many to count.”
“We have time.” He flashes me a panty-dropping smile and it’s hard to concentrate for a second.
But I calm myself and think through some of my favorite memories of the boys. “When I brought Levi home from the hospital. I was breastfeeding, but I hadn’t had a lot of luck getting him to latch, so I was pumping a lot. The first day at home with two boys was chaotic, but Micah was very helpful. I was stuck onthe couch a lot, either tied to his brother or the pump. He was very observant, and I’d catch him staring at me. By the second day, I could tell something was bothering him and I was worried. You never know how kids are going to react to their new siblings, and I was concerned he would feel slighted or jealous.”
“Was he?”
She laughs. “Nope. He was concerned about something else. He’d watched me pump for two days and seemed fascinated by it. I was in the middle of pumping when he approached me, his eyes full of concern. He pointed to the pump parts on my chest and said, ‘Are you…are you a robot, Mama?’ He sounded so hopeful, so excited at the prospect, and I about lost it because I had to tell him that I was not, in fact, a robot. Poor thing got stuck sharing my attention with a new baby, and he didn’t even get a robot out of the deal.”
Mike throws his head back in laughter, wiping away tears as he tries several times to speak and fails. “I can picture the look of disappointment on his face. Poor lad.”
I tap my chin, trying to think of another one. “And Levi has been enamored with farts since he was born.” I pull out my phone and search through my camera roll until I find the video I’m looking for. I point the screen at Mike and press play. A four-month-old Levi squirms on the couch, Micah hovering over him. Levi looks up at his big brother with such love and adoration. And then Micah makes a long, loud fart sound with his mouth as Levi bursts into laughter.
“That’s…” Mike sniffles and wipes a tear from his eye. “Can you send me that?”
“Absolutely.”
“I hate that I missed out on all that time with them. Missed their first words, first steps, all these milestones.”
“I know. But we’re together now. And I have pictures and videos of a lot of that.”
He nods and pulls me against him, kissing my head.
“What about Christmases and birthdays? Halloween costumes?”
“I have all of that captured.”
“I want to see it all. Fuck doom-scrolling on social media, I want to go down that rabbit hole. Hear their little voices as they age. See how they grow and lose their baby fat.”
“You haven’t missed every milestone. Neither of them has lost a tooth yet.”
He sits up, excited. “I get to play Tooth Fairy?”
I chuckle at his enthusiasm. “You can, but we have a system for that.”
“We?”
“The girls and me. We have a whole set of rules for Santa, the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny. Basically, any mythical creature that you want kids to believe in. Admittedly, the Santa Rules are the most elaborate, but we have some fun tricks for the other ones.”
A thought hits me, and I push up, sitting taller on the cushion. “Do you think it’s possible that you could have other kids out there? When I chose artificial insemination, I knew that was a possibility, that the boys could have siblings out there they might never meet.”
“Does that bother you?”
“That they could have siblings? No. I mean, it makes me sad to know they could have brothers or sisters they’ll never know, but I knew that going into this. Does it bother you?”
“Nah. I only donated because I was shite at dating in my twenties and figured that if I never met the right girl and couldn’t give my Ma and Da the family they always wanted, well, at least someone could create a family with my donation. It was kind of a rash decision one night after I had too many pints. I never regretted it. If it carried on the bloodline then it wasn’t in vain. But I did have second thoughts about the fact that me and my folks might never know for sure if there weremore of the O’Connor clan running around. And sad that I might never meet them if there were.”
I think through his words, in awe of the way this man has always put the needs of others first, with his parents, the crew at the station, and with us.
He looks at me, taking my hand in his. “Does that bother you? That there could be more mini-Mikes running around out there?”
“No. There could be even if we’d never met. Knowing you now doesn’t change that for me. I kinda hope that someone else was able to create a family with your donation like I did, just as long as I don’t have to have any more kids, because these two are more than enough for me. But it makes me happy for you that your bloodline could be carried on by others. It’s funny that youdonatedbecause you couldn’t find the right person, and I waslookingfor a donation because I couldn’t find the right person either. You gave me the best gifts ever.”
“Aye, I got more where that came from if you want me to give ya another gift later.” He nips at my ear, teasing me, and I’m filled with gratitude that I gave this man a chance.
We spend the rest of the night scrolling through memories on my phone and laughing. One video after another and I’m pausing and stopping, interrupting as old memories resurface. And I share it all with him. Every thought. Every laugh. Every fart and poop story. It’s the perfect evening; all that’s missing is our little chaos monsters.
EPILOGUE
