you're the sky } an ellie series

I've never felt a fear like this before. So focused and so pure, a hand squeezing my heart and making my knees so weak that I'm sure I'll fall to the floor as soon as they call my name. Grandpa always said the scariest moments in life are the most memorable—"whether it's a good memory or a bad one is the variable." I wish he had enough of his memories left to tell me that I wasn't doing this all wrong, that everything was gonna be okay. And that this would make a good memory.

I'd always thought I'd be older. I always thought I'd have created a more stable environment and that I'd have had time to plan everything out. I'd have a house worth far more than the one we bought, that I'd have crawled out of debt and made something of myself, that I'd be married and ready. It's obvious I'm not as I ring my hands together and bounce my knees as jitters take control of me. If I were truly ready I wouldn't be this nervous, right?

Grandpa said I was an idiot for getting a girl pregnant. Even with his deteriorating mind I know he's right. I'm an idiot. Reckless decisions aren't really my forte; I was raised better than to be irresponsible. But this was anything but planned, anything but responsible, and what's worse is this one decision is irreversible. If it had only been me taking responsibility for my actions and living with the consequences then I know I could swallow this.

But it wasn't just me. It's her, too. And I don't know when I'll ask, but I've already got the ring picked out. I'd bought it even before she told me about the baby. And I know I'm in love with her. I love her. One day I'll find the courage to ask her to marry me, and one day I will be able to look at her and only feel love—but right now, all I do is worry. Worry I've ruined her life, worry this is never what she wanted, worry that in 5 years she'll decide she's sick of waking up next to me.

Her father kicked her out. My grandpa can't be around kids. All I could manage to afford was a rundown and sorely outdated studio apartment above a pawn shop. And it was just as bad as you'd expect a twenty year old kid to afford on his own. I tried my best to make it livable, but I've never been one to let my pride get in the way of someone else's comfort; I told her she stay with Justice, at least until the baby came. He had resources at his fingertips that I could never match. And as infuriating as that is, I'm just glad she had somewhere to sleep that wasn't crawling with roaches or rats.

I've spent the last 6 months turning the tiny apartment into a home. Struggled through putting together a crib, baby-proofing the cabinets, outsmarting rats into traps, getting all the grime off the windows, all the grease off the stove, all the stains from the carpet. I've never been very handy, but seeing Poppy and the baby everyday kept me determined.

The baby. Our baby.

I sigh, pressing my palms to my forehead and staring at the cracks in the tile floor. I know I shouldn't be this worried, but it feels like it's been hours now since I was given any information from the nurses. I don't like bothering people while they work—"Excuse me?"—but I think if I don't get any new information right this second my heart will actually give out.

"Uh, hi, sorry, I was just wondering about Platinum Clarke?"

The nurse nods at me, asks for my name and relation, whispers to someone nearby, looks at her charts, and smiles at me.

"Congratulations," she says, pointing down the hall as she speaks. "Room 113, down the hall to the left."

I don't have enough air in my lungs to thank her properly as I start a brisk walk down the hall. My knees are shaking and my palms are sweating as I push my hair from my eyes and watch the room numbers increase slowly until I'm staring through the small window at a sleeping Poppy. She's all tangled up in beeping monitors and clean bedsheets, the sunlight washing in through the window making her look angelic. I heave a sigh as she rolls over, a smile working its into my lips.

My hands are still shaking as I open the door. I'm careful to let the door click softly back into place, not wanting to wake her. I pull a chair to her bedside, brush a few stray pieces of hair from her face and kiss her hairline. I wish I could crawl into bed with her. Just curl up in the sun and fall asleep with my arms around her and my face pressed to her neck. I've missed her. She was right to tell me I work too much, but every time I thought about cutting my hours I'd thinking of something else the baby would need. Something else she would need.

"I love you," I whisper, leaning back in my seat.

---

I don't know when I nodded off or how long I've been out, but I jump awake the instant the door clicks open, a nurse immediately whispering soft apologies as she steps through the door. I stand to greet her, my own set of apologies in order for falling asleep here and any inconveniences I've caused, but all the words get caught in my throat as I see the small bundle she holds close to her chest. Every bit of grogginess leaves my body, quickly replaced by a sort of nervous adrenaline rush. Except my heart feels like it's simply stopped.

The nurse smiles brightly at me, glancing at a still completely drained Poppy. She turns her gaze and soft smile back to me. Her voice is soft when she speaks—"You're the father, right?"—as she takes a few steps closer to me. Right. Father. Me. I'm a father now. That's-- crazy. I nod because it's all I can manage.

"Perfect. Here," she says softly, shifting closer, ready to transfer the tiny bundle in the crook of her arms to me.

I sort of stumble forward, arms shaking as I imitate her and she lets the tiny bundle of blankets press into my arms and chest.

"Congratulations, he's all yours."

He. No longer only a baby, but a baby boy. He squirms a little in my arms, face red and skin as smooth as riverstone. His cheeks look like they don't fit his face and what little hair he has is peeking from underneath a small blue beanie. His lips twitch as he sleeps, the softest of noises escapes as he shifts within the swath again. A yawn, a stretch, and a few dazed blinks. Dark lashes against fair skin, eyes just as dark and as beautiful as his mother's.

"A healthy, beautiful baby boy."

And as he stares up at me, eyes blinking slowly and heavily as he slowly begins to settle back into a deep sleep, I'm sure I've never seen anything more beautiful in my entire life.

"He's perfect," I breathe, swallowing the lump in my throat and forcing my very heavy limbs to move carefully back to my chair.

The nurse laughs softly, smiling as she moves to check on Poppy's monitors and update her charts.

I can't believe I ever regretted this. I can't believe I ever wished to take this all back. I can't believe I ever thought of this as a consequence. I feel my heart soaring, my head rushing, my fingers tingling as he settles in against my chest, tiny features perfectly content to stay pressed close to me.

And though I know the fear will eventually return, looking down at him now, this small, innocent, soft, beautiful baby boy—my son—there is no room for anything but pure joy. He hiccups and a smile breaks across my face, my vision blurring as my eyes fill involuntarily with tears. I try not to laugh because I know the shaking of my chest will wake him, but a few bits slip their way past my defenses.

Grandpa always said the scariest moments in life were the most memorable. And he's right. I will never forget this feeling or this moment.

This will forever be my happiest memory.