You Are the Reason (2 page)

So the day I met Lee, you’ll forgive me for not noticing every little thing about him….

I
KNOCKED
on the door of the big house and waited with my palms sweating. In one slippery hand, I gripped the plastic handle of a packet of disposable nappies, and in the other, I had a six-pack of beer.

The door swung open, and I smiled at Patrick. Not that he could see it. He was blind after all. But you sometimes can’t help smiling at the friend you see. I opened my mouth to identify myself, but he was too quick for me.

“Davo. I’m glad you could make it. Jake’s been waiting for you to drop by.”

Fuck.
How the hell did he know? “How did you know it was me?” I asked him.

Patrick smiled as his vacant gaze turned in my direction. “You’re still making your way through that bottle of Tommy Hilfiger cologne that your mother gave you for Christmas. If you change, I’ll have to learn your new scent.” I chuckled and mentally awarded him a point. “Come on in,” he invited as he stepped back to give me room. “Jake’s changing Maxine, and then she’ll be ready for a cuddle.”

I cursed up a storm in my head but kept the smile on my face. Cuddling the baby was something that I had been hoping to
avoid
. Didn’t babies sleep all the time? And they always said to never wake a sleeping baby. I thought I would be safe.

I made my way down the hall to the kitchen and placed my gifts on the table. “I’ve brought you guys some presents,” I told Patrick as he headed for the fridge. “Nappies for the baby and beer for her dads. Oh, and congratulations by the way. I meant to say that first up.”

Patrick’s face lit up with pride and pleasure. He was an extremely handsome man and most of the time dressed like he’d stepped directly out of
GQ
. Jake had scored when he’d landed that man.

Naturally the man who scored Jake was pretty lucky too.

“Thank you,” Patrick replied. He pulled some items out of the fridge. “We’re so lucky to have Maxine, and I swear that baby is an angel. She’s only three weeks old, yet she can sleep for five hours straight.”

Five hours?
I was horrified. Was that all? I cleared my throat. “And that’s something to celebrate, is it? Five hours?”

Patrick was laying out cheeses and carrot sticks. He smiled. “Yes. The first week she only managed two hours before waking for another feed. The doctor said it was because she was slightly premature and needed extra milk to catch up on the growing. But Jake has her in routine now. And of course, Maxine has both of us wrapped around her little finger.”

There was a sound from farther in the house, and Jake appeared. He was grinning from ear to ear and he held his new daughter on his shoulder. She was wrapped in a fluffy pink blanket, and I paled.

Pink?
It was so girly.

“Davo. Hey, how’re you doing? I’m glad you could stop by.” He stretched out his arm, and I remembered my manners. I stood and shook hands as I repeated my congratulations to him. He grinned broadly. “Thanks. Here. Have a cuddle.”

Before I could refuse, Jake lowered the newborn into my arms. It was instinct to crook my elbow and provide a cradle for the baby to nestle into, then to clutch her to my chest so I wouldn’t drop her. Suddenly she was in my arms, and Jake was backing away as he asked Patrick if he needed help.

My knees went weak as I stared down at the little scrap I was holding to my chest. She was awake, her unfocused eyes staring solemnly into mine as she tried to make sense of this new face in her periphery. Her eyes were a strange gray color—not quite brown, not quite blue—and it seemed to me as if her soul was calling to me through her gaze. Her eyelashes and eyebrows were so pale and delicate, they were hardly there at all. She had a pink band wrapped around her head with a decorative flower on it—so pretty and girly I wondered why Jake, my nonfemme best gay friend, had put it on. There were only a few wisps of pale, blonde hair on her head, so it wasn’t like she needed something to hold it back.

From what I could tell under the blanket, she was dressed in a white material that was dotted with pink flowers. The sight was so foreign to me that I blinked several times to make sure they were flowers and not some trick of my imagination. Finally I focused on the cute little rosebud of a mouth. She was sucking on her lower lip. Tiny bubbles of white were forming at the corners of her mouth.

I swallowed hard and admitted silently to myself that she was beautiful. Gorgeous. Precious.

“Jake?” I called with only the slightest waver to my voice. “Jake, can you come and get your baby?”

I didn’t dare take my eyes off her, in case she hurt herself while I wasn’t looking. But I could hear Jake and Patrick in the kitchen. Jake wasn’t rushing to my aid.

“What’s wrong, Davo? Did she poo through her clothes again?”

Again?
I gagged at the thought. Poo? All the way through her clothes?

I took stock of the situation. I couldn’t feel dampness, and I couldn’t smell anything bad, so I assumed that there was no need to run screaming from the room. “No. I just don’t want to hurt her. Can you come and get her off me? Please?”

I threw in the
please
so he knew I was serious. But what did I get in response? Did he run over to help me? Did he assist in any way? No. He only chuckled.

“’Course you won’t hurt her. She’s not made of glass. Just hang ten, and I’ll make her bottle. You can feed it to her.”

Oh, the horror.
Feed a baby a bottle? I could feel the femme rubbing off on me already. There was a balloon in my chest.

Patrick made his way over to the table with plates of nibblies for us to share. “Davo bought us nappies as a gift,” he called to Jake. “And beer. I don’t know which is more important around here these days.”

Jake chuckled again. “Beer, Patti-cake. Definitely the beer. I took Maxine to the liquor store yesterday, intending to buy us something nice to share, and the looks I received from the staff and customers there had me scuttling out after grabbing the nearest bottle of wine I could find. Heck. You would’ve thought I was taking her to a sex shop or something. Do parents not get to drink?”

Patrick smiled and returned to the kitchen to bring across the next plate. I stood in the middle of the room, holding the baby and feeling as useless as tits on a bull.

“Maybe we should take her to the pet shop, then?” Patrick answered. “If I remember rightly, shopping at the pet shop is fun. I get to see all the pretty animals.”

That made me look up. If Patrick was blind, how could he see…?

I witnessed a shared look between the two of them that sizzled the air. I chuckled despite my terror at holding a baby. “Parents don’t get to have sex,” I lectured them. “It’s in the parenting rule book.”

That made Patrick laugh and pretend to blush. “Oops.”

Jake snorted. “I guess someone forgot to tell my mother that one,” he scoffed. “Or your mother, Davo. I seem to recall some younger siblings at your house.”

I refused to think of my parents in that manner. “No. My parents are both virgins. The stork brought my sister and brothers.”

“More like a stalk,” muttered Patrick as he finally sat down. Jake breezed on past with the last of the snacks and ushered me to a chair. I tried to pass the baby back over, but he refused. Instead, he plonked a small bottle of milk on the table in front of me.

“No way,” I denied. “I can’t feed a baby.”

“Your call.” Jake shrugged as he twisted the lid off a beer and put it in front of Patrick. “But when she starts screaming, you may change your mind.”

I turned to Patrick in desperation. “What about you, Patrick? You’re her daddy. You can feed her.”

Patrick picked up his beer and took a long swallow. “I can’t. I’m blind, remember? I might end up sticking that thing in her ear or up her nose.”

I narrowed my eyes at the man I’d just watched cut up carrot sticks and arrange a platter of cheeses, crackers, and dried fruit. What was up with these two? Before I could mull over it too much, Maxine decided she’d waited long enough with this stranger, and opened her rosebud mouth to let out a squeal of discontent.

“Oh, oh,” muttered Patrick. “She’s about to blow.”

I looked down in alarm. Her face was screwed up tight, and she was looking a little flushed. The panic rose inside me.

“It’s your turn to feed her, Patrick,” grumbled Jake.

The squeal was getting louder.

“No way,” returned Patrick. “I did her at two o’clock this morning
and
at five. Your turn. Definitely.”

The baby wriggled and squirmed in my arms, her face becoming redder.

“What about all day yesterday?” Jake countered, glaring across the table. “You had an appointment with the lawyers, and I had her all day by myself.”

The squeal had turned to a screech, which had turned to a shriek.

“Bullshit,” Patrick burst out. “You took her to your mum’s house, and your mum and Maria fussed over her. You probably had a nap.”

The shriek was definitely a scream now. I watched my friends bicker over whose turn it was to feed their child. What sort of parents were they? What sort of friends were they?

Jake returned volley. “And why can’t I have a nap? I was up all night with Maxine. And I change her all the time. I don’t see you doing nappies very often.”

“That’s because the smell is atrocious. Did it register with you that each time I need to change her nappy, I need a bucket to catch the vomit that comes out of me at the putrid smell?”

With exasperation, I grabbed the bottle of milk from the table and shoved the nipple into Maxine’s wide-open mouth. The noise was cut off midwail and silence descended. I sighed in relief as peace was restored and the baby began sucking frantically on the teat as if she’d been denied food for a week. Listening to her two dads argue over whose turn it was to take care of her, I rather thought she might’ve been.

I smiled down at the precious sight of my best gay friend’s daughter attempting to wrap her tiny fingers around the plastic bottle. I’m sure I missed the knowing smirk that passed between Jake and Patrick.

I
WAS
merry by the time I left Jake’s house and drove my car to The Tav. I was under the limit, so it was safe to drive, but I had big plans to change that. And quickly.

The Tav was my regular hangout, as there was a large percentage of gay and bi people who chose to hang there, and I could be guaranteed a hand job or blow job most nights. I would’ve preferred a quick fuck, but The Tav didn’t have a back room like some gay bars.

Sure, I’d managed it in the toilets several times over the years, but it was much easier to slip out to my car for a bit of a BJ.

The Tav was busy but not as crowded as it usually was. I strode to the bar and waved the owner, Charlie, over.

“Hey, Davo. What can I get you?”

“Corona, thanks. Where is everyone tonight?” I looked around at the slim pickings I had for the night’s entertainment.

“Derby,” Charlie grunted as he plonked the bottle on the bar for me.

I grimaced. I’d forgotten that the two local football teams were going head-to-head that night. It was a big deal in Perth. Bragging rights were on the line. We’re talking about sell-out crowds, marital discord, and at least one on-field fight per derby played.

After eschewing anything girly, I’d thrown myself into the football scene. Like every man in my family before me, I’d had to pick a football team to go for. I’d looked at my local team choices—West Coast Eagles or Fremantle Dockers—and decided they weren’t macho enough. So then I looked interstate: the Magpies, the Kangaroos, the Hawks, the Swans, the Lions….

Finally I’d set my eyes on the Demons. Yes. That described my internal struggle. So I became a Melbourne Football Club fan, and thus I hadn’t seen a premiership flag. Yet. I was hopeful. At the core of every Australian is the inability to give up on your footy team. So what if I’d followed them for fifteen years and never seen a flag? They’d once won three premierships back-to-back.