CHAPTER SEVENTEEN | JOSH
I pulled the folded ultrasound photograph out of my jeans pocket and gently smoothed out the creases in the paper. Ever since that day I joined Vanessa for her ultrasound appointment, I had been carrying that photo with me everywhere I went.
That’s right: I’m enough of a man to admit that I had developed a major soft spot for that little jelly bean-shaped tadpole that was growing in Vanessa’s womb. I had more than a soft spot, actually. I felt proud every time I looked at that photograph.
Of course I knew that it was way too early to feel proud of anything. All I had contributed thus far were a few deep thrusts, a hot load of microscopic swimmers, and a couple hundred bucks in baby supplies. Biology aside, I knew that I hadn’t earned the right to call myself a ‘dad’ just yet. That was an honor that would come later on. I had to earn that title.
DNA wasn’t enough to determine fatherhood, I had decided. Just look at my own father, for example. There was no disputing that he was my father; his name was on my birth certificate, and he was the man who had put a roof over my head and clothes on my back for eighteen years. I even had his dimpled chin and dark hair. But that didn’t make him a ‘dad.’
I had spent my entire childhood waiting for my father to become my ‘dad.’ I would have taken anything: any scrap of attention, any morsel of affection, any hint of love. I wanted fishing trips and family dinners and life lessons and afternoons spent under the hood of a car… But I never got any of that. I just got disappointed scowls and harsh reprimands.
I wasn’t going to let history repeat itself. I wasn’t going to be a deadbeat or a sperm donor or a vacant void in a family portrait. I was going to be a dad.
Step one: tell the truth.
I finished smoothing out the photograph, then I glanced up. I was in the firehouse locker room, standing in front of my cubby.
Tonight was a big night for me: tonight, all of the crew was getting together to celebrate my one-year anniversary with Firehouse 56. The poker table was already set up in the vehicle bay, pizzas had been ordered, and someone had even rented a keg in honor of the occasion.
The guys didn’t know it yet, but we’d be celebrating more than an anniversary. Tonight I planned on finally announcing that I was going to be a father.
I pushed aside the turnout gear that was hanging in my cubby, clearing a space on the red metal locker wall. Then, using a square of tape, I secured the ultrasound photo inside my cubby.
No more hiding after tonight. There it was: in plain sight, displayed for everyone to see. My baby.
“There you are!” a voice shouted from behind me. I spun around and saw Brady standing in the doorway, grinning. “Why the hell are you moping up here, while the rest of us are throwing a party in your honor downstairs?!”
“I’m coming down now,” I said. “I was just…putting something away.”
I glanced back at my locker. My turnout gear had swung back into place, obscuring all but the edge of the ultrasound that I had tacked up on the metal cubby wall.
I waited for Brady to turn and leave, but instead he stepped into the locker room. He crossed his arms, leaning against an empty cubby opposite of me.
“Actually, I’m glad I caught you alone,” he said. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”
“What’s up?”
“I don’t want you to get pissed off, or think that I’m trying to steal your thunder,” Brady said. “I know it’s your big night, but…this is big news, and I wanted to make sure you heard it from me first.”
“So spit it out, Brady,” I rolled my eyes. “Come on. What could you possibly have to tell me, that could trump the whole ‘secret engagement’ debacle?”
What could you possibly have to tell me, that could trump my own big announcement? I added silently to myself.
Brady shrugged and nodded.
“Fair point,” he said. Then: “We’re having a baby.”
My face went numb. Actually, all of me went numb. My hands balled into fists and I felt my mouth go dry.
“You’re…what?”
“We’re having a baby,” Brady repeated. “Cassidy is pregnant. I’m going to be a daddy!”
My jaw clenched into a snarl. You don’t know the first thing about being a ‘daddy,’ I wanted to hiss, but I bit my tongue.
My eyes flashed back to the ultrasound taped up in my locker and my heart sank.
Whether I deserved to be or not, I was already so proud of that baby. Maybe Vanessa and I weren’t perfect…maybe we hadn’t conceived our child in the perfect circumstances, and maybe we weren’t the perfect little cookie-cutter family…but through it all, we had managed to make something perfect and beautiful: that baby.
The feeling of pride and love that I got when I looked at that ultrasound was what finally made me realize that I was ready to share the news. Even though I was scared shitless about telling the crew that I was going to be a father, I knew that once the truth was out there, I’d be so proud to show off the little sac of cells and doll-sized body parts that I had helped make.
For the first time in my life, I felt like I finally had something to be proud of. But with those four words -- “we’re having a baby” -- Brady had managed kick me right back down to the place I had spent my entire life trying to crawl out of; I was right back in his shadow.
Once again, Brady was the noble big brother leading by example…and I was just the fucked up prodigal son who always managed to do things the wrong way around.
Brady’s kid wasn’t even born yet, and he or she already had everything that I was unable to give my own child. Brady’s kid would grow up with parents who were married and madly in love with each other. Brady’s kid would grow up with home-cooked family dinners and family vacations to the beach. Brady’s kid would be spoiled by doting grandparents. Brady’s kid would get to feel proud of their father’s legacy…
I couldn’t give my kid any of that. Brady had already provided more for his child than I could ever provide for my own. He was probably going to be a better ‘dad’ than I could ever be, too. How could he not be? He was Brady fucking Hudson. Everything he touched turned to gold.
As feelings of insecurity and inferiority consumed me, I felt suddenly protective of my unborn son or daughter. I didn’t want my child to be born into the same shadow that I had spent my entire life trying to escape.
I didn’t want my baby to be compared to Brady’s kid, either. But how could people not compare them? Brady’s son or daughter was going to be born into the perfect, loving little family…while my own son or daughter was going to be born out of wedlock, to two parents who lived separate lives in separate apartments...
I could already imagine how Brady’s big announcement would go over with they guys. He’d be greeted with cheers and high-fives. Everyone would congratulate him, because his baby was planned, wanted, intentional…
But nobody was going to think that about me. They’d assume that my baby was an accident…a mistake. My fists balled in anger and I saw a brief flash of red, just thinking about anyone having the nerve to call my perfect, innocent baby a ‘mistake.’
I can’t tell the crew now…I decided. No matter how proud I felt of my unborn child, I knew I couldn’t submit him or her to that kind of judgement.
“Josh?” Brady asked, his voice filling with concern. “Everything ok, buddy?”
“Fine,” I snapped, realizing that I had let my thoughts wander for too long. I forced a stiff smile and swallowed my rage.
“Congratulations,” I told him. “That’s great news. I know you’ll be a great dad.”
I knew that it was true, but it still fucking killed me to say those words. Why? Because I knew that if I had been the one to reveal my news first, there’s no way that Brady would have said those same words to me…