“Don’t do that!” Melody’s eyes are huge, and she’s holdingthe baby like she has a little more practice than I do. “If you barf, I’ll barf.”
I run to the kitchen, jerking open the cabinet that contains my trash. I hold onto the marble countertop, fighting the gagging sensation pulling at my throat.
The baby starts to cry, and I blink the moisture out of my eyes. I wipe the back of my hand over my forehead, looking over to where Melody still stands, Cricket’s back against her stomach.
“Congratulations,” I manage to say through the thickness in my throat. “You’re really going to see me fail this time. Front-row seat, in living color.”
“What?” She strides over to where I’m bracing myself over the trash can.
“Let me guess, the award for most careless ejaculation goes to me?” My tone drips with defeated sarcasm.
“No…” Melody shakes her head. “I-I don’t want that. You’re not going to fail, because I’m going to help you.”
My brow softens. My chest squeezes, and God help me, I might cry.
I take a step away from the ledge. “What did you say?”
Cricket hiccups, looking up at me, and I take her from Melody’s arms. Her little stomach is against my chest, and she pats my arm like she’s done since I met her.
“Ba!” she says, patting me again.
I look down at Melody, unsure what to do with these emotions surging in my chest. I’m sure half of them are the result of throwing up twice in one day. The other half is patting me on the arm with her baby hands.
“I said I’m going to help you.” Melody looks around my kitchen where the bags of baby supplies sit, half of which are unopened. “What’s all this?”
“My cousin helped me buy some baby gear.”
“Ba!” Cricket says again, patting my face this time.
“What does that mean?” I ask, looking at Melody.
“How should I know? I don’t speak baby.” She takes a plastic bottle out of a bag and looks at me. “Maybe she wants a bottle?”
The thick towel I’ve wrapped around her grows very warm and damp in my arms. “Oh shit, I think she peed.”
“She’s not wearing a diaper?” Melody’s brows rise. “What if she poops again?”
I jump, turning to run to the guest bedroom where the diapers are strewn across the bed. “So far, she only does that once a day.”
A thick changing blanket covers the duvet on the bed. Dove gave me my diapering lessons here, and I remove the pee-soaked towel, tossing it onto the floor of the attached bathroom.
“This I can do, at least.” I lay Cricket on her back, sliding a clean diaper under her little butt.
She immediately starts pumping her legs like she always does when I try to put a new diaper on her. It’s like she’s playing a game.
I press my palm against her stomach like Dove showed me as I carefully undo the tabs and spread open the Pamper.
“Want me to hold her legs?” Melody is right beside me watching.
“Nah, I’ve got this part. How good are you at handling shit?”
She takes a step back. “You’re joking, right?”
“I don’t know how I’m going to get it off my rug without throwing up. The smell is so bad.”
“Rock, paper, scissors?”
My phone lights up on the bed, and I look over at it. “Who is that?”