Chapter 6: It's a Baby

I started starting to get worried. All this impending fatherhood was scary as hell to me. I kept having visions in my head of Emily dying or the baby coming out all ugly and deformed. Homer was even worse than I was. "Oh god, what if things don't come out all right? I'm scared, Wilbur, I'm scared as hell. We kept feeding into each other's fears. Then Moose and Connie came in all smiles.

He took one look at our faces and asked, "Hey, is something wrong?"

"We're just worried, Moose, what if something goes wrong?" Homer looked up at the big guy and waited for an answer.

"Don't worry, man. I delivered one of my sisters one time when I was twelve. I was scared then too. It's just natural to worry about the first baby. Just relax." He patted Homer on the shoulder so hard Homer almost went to his knees.

Connie came up and told me, "Relax, boy, the doctor told Emily and me that she would have the least complicated birth of any of his present patients. Everything will be all right. Just take it easy."

Brenda came back in with Junior. "I'm your body guard," she said. Then she looked a little unsure of herself and added in a small voice, "Unless you don't want me."

Connie grinned and said, "Perfect. And you have your work clothes on already."

I heard Junior say, "Shut up Mamma." Then he walked over to Brenda and asked, "Can we go back out for seconds?"

"Go for it." Connie laughed. Brenda and Junior went back outside. Then Connie followed, saying, "As Homer says, this could get interesting."

"What did I ever see in that slut?" Homer asked.

I answered in a happy voice, "Well, she is a great piece of ass, has a hell of an affectionate disposition, a great body, a good mind and a great personality. On top of which, she gets us top dollar." I think I just almost shut Homer up.

"Well, other than that, what did I see in her?" I roughed his hair and started to say something.

"Who is the Smith Party?" a nurse asked.

"That's us." I said. "Is everything all right?"

"Well, you are the father of a healthy, nine pound baby boy with lungs like an opera singer." The mother is doing fine also. You want to go back? The father only."

We both started out the door. "The father only, the biological father only." she said.

"That's us," Homer said. "Sure as hell." I answered.

"This is irregular," she said.

"We are co-husbands," Homer grinned at her.

"We are co as hell," I added.

She didn't answer, she just gestured for us to follow. We went to the viewing room and we saw a little dark haired and dark skinned bundle of wiggles and squirms.

"She done up and had herself a Mexican or an Indian." Homer said.

"I don't know, but his hair looks dark. He could be." I shrugged. The nurse looked at us like we were crazy.

I looked at her and started to answer. Homer beat me to it. "Hey, so it don't look like us, it's still a baby. So no big deal."

"You two are either saints or nuts," she said.

"We ain't either," I told her. "We're musicians."

"I was right," she said, "Nuts." Then she went on to explain as how not all babies were born pink and cuddly and blond. She said it particularly held true when both of the fathers were pretty dark complexioned. She sort of emphasized the part about "both fathers." So I told her as how I was part Cherokee and homer allowed as how he was a quarter Osage.

She muttered to herself, "To think I gave up being engaged to a nice doctor just so I could be near Mama. Nobody would believe a conversation like this..." She walked off shaking her head.