A Striking Resemblance

I raised an eyebrow, dubious at best. "Sure. I'll call her right now."

I didn't care how much pull a local judge has, he's not going to be able to get a Marine off base and on a plane at the snap of a finger.

I dialed and she answered immediately. "Steve, is everything alright? Is she in labor?"

"Yes, to both. She seems to be doing okay. We're at the hospital. She wants me to ask you to call the judge? You know what she's talking about?"

"I do. Tell her he'll call the senator and the governor within twenty minutes."

Okay, well, senators and governors may be able to get a Marine on a plane with the snap of a finger. Marianne was soon back and was surprisingly calm as we tried to distract Shannon. Medical people would pop in and out and Marianne didn't pester them. She only asked measured, reasonable questions. I eventually felt comfortable enough to step out and find a vending machine.

I called Ethan, Shannon's father, and let him know what was going on. I could tell that he was pissed that we hadn't called earlier. When I hung up, I was going to get myself a coffee from the machine, but I saw that it had an option for hot chocolate. Shannon came first, and only having one arm limited how much I could carry. I made three trips. One for my daughter-in-law, one for tea from Marianne, and one for coffee for me. When I got back, Pop was waiting in the room. He could get his own coffee.

Three of us in the room with Shannon was already pushing it. When Liz showed up and was soon followed by Ethan, it was clearly too much. I kissed Shannon's cheek and told her that I would be in the waiting room.

"Stay on the phone with Gus, okay? Let him call as much as she wants. I have a spare battery and a battery charger for him in my bag. He's going to need to talk to someone."

Smiling at her proudly, I kissed her again, this time on the forehead. I couldn't have hoped that my boy would find a better woman to stand by his side. I squeezed her hand.

"I will. It'll be fine. He was my son long before he was your husband, Shannon. I'll take care of it."

Me, Pop, Ethan's wife and Liz all went out to the waiting room. Within an hour, I started getting a barrage of phone calls.

"Dad, they came and got me and put me on a plane. How is she? Can I talk to her? How is the baby? Is everything... I don't know, is everything happening like it should?"

"Everything looks good. She saw the specialist and there doesn't seem to be any problems. I'm in the waiting room, so I can't hand her the phone, but she is looking forward to seeing you. Where are you, exactly?"

He wasn't sure how literal I was, so he first told me where he was on the plane, and then told me where the plane was. I helped him keep his mind busy and distracted him with questions. We repeated the process every so often. I encouraged him to call Shannon but to limit the calls and the length.

I didn't know much about giving birth. I knew they were some quick and easy births, and I knew there were some that would drag on for what seemed like forever. Although we were hoping for quick and easy, it seemed like the baby wasn't in any hurry. Visitors cycled in. Me, Pop, Ethan's wife, and Shannon's stepfather were in there with her the least. Liz, Marianne, and Ethan were almost always in with Shannon. One of them would come out for a little while and one of us would replace them.

I could tell that Gus was using his watch. He called every fifteen minutes. It was probably torture for him to let those fifteen minutes tick by before calling back. It made him feel better to hear me literally walking up to the nurses' station and verify that everything was okay. I knew I was a nuisance, but there were no obvious emergencies and it made things easier for my son, so I did it.

I noticed one nurse, who looked extremely familiar. She was also very attractive. It wasn't the best of times to be checked out a woman, but it's second nature to guys. Hoping I hadn't been obvious, I went back and sat down. A little more than three hours after we had arrived, Gus and Pop came bursting through the door. I winced when I saw the gigantic stuffed bear in my son's hands. That thing had to cost him a week's pay. My father took the bear and hugged Gus before sitting down. Gus's eyes were darting everywhere. He hadn't even flinched when pop hugged him, which was a big tell. I patted him on the shoulder and led him to Shannon's room.

Ethan and Liz stepped out, but Marianne refused.

"I'm staying."

Liz returned to the room. "Get your ass out of that chair and give her some time with her husband."

Marianne harrumphed, but joined us in the waiting room.

Once Gus was with us, he was glued to Shannon's side. The rest of us all took turns exchanging small talk. The only time we acknowledged the shadow in the room was when new medical professionals came to speak to us.

The baby had a heart murmur. We'd known about that for a while and the doctors were optimistic that it was inconsequential and that she would be fine. We all quickly got in line and mouthed our assurances.

During the long, dark nights, I would pray to a God who I wasn't sure was there and ask for his help. There were a few times I was truly happy that Shannon came from money. When I realized that they were able to afford the absolute best when it came to medical professionals, was one of those times. So, we sat in the waiting room, checked our watches way too often and whiled away the hours with inane talk about baby proofing homes and music that stimulated the intellect of infants.

Kate, the woman Pop had been dating for years, showed up with Tupperwares full of baked goods. She was a sweet woman and better than he deserved.

She passed around some cookies and pulled a bunch of napkins out of her purse. There were children belonging to other families in the large waiting room and, with permission from their parents, she gave them some as well. Kate thought of Gus as a grandson and taught him how to dance before his prom with Shannon.

Yeah, Pop was dating out of his league.

I wasn't sure what I had been anticipating, but I asked Ethan if they had a special room they brought women into to give birth. He looked at me oddly.

"Steve, she's been there for an hour. They have certain metrics, including diameter and contraction time, and when they thought it was time, they brought her back."

"Oh. Sure. Of course."

My father sat next to me, nudged me with his elbow and handed me a paper bag from the grocery. We're two old Marines and he's living off of his pension, so we recycle. A lot. We had to have at least a hundred of those bags in the pantry. I thought it was food at first, but feeling the bottom of the bag, I realized I was wrong. Opening it up, I saw two boxes of expensive cigars.

"For Gus," Pop grumbled.

I nodded. "Thanks. How much did they set you back?"

"None of your business. I bought one box we found out and then saved up for the other. Let him know they're here when he comes out. Some guys from the VA and the VFW are coming down."

I couldn't remember a time when Gus didn't want to be a Marine. He didn't always get along well with kids his own age. Being on the spectrum will do that to you. I had always been worried that he spent too much time with old men who were rehashing their glory days.

It seemed like years passed before Marianne came out and stood at the door to the waiting room. She looked at me and Ethan.

"I think the grandpas might want to come back with me."

The first thing I saw when I walked into the room was an exhausted Shannon looking to her right with a serene smile. Following her gaze, I saw my son in a chair holding his daughter in his hands with a look of wonderment.

Someone was helping Ethan on with a surgical gown, or whatever you call it. Marianne quickly and efficiently folded up the sleeve on another one, came up with a pin somewhere, fastened it to the gown and helped me into it.

Smiling, she looked up at me. "Congratulations, grandpa."

She could be a pain in the ass, but she wasn't so bad.

Standing by Gus's side I stared down at perfection. When I glanced over at Shannon, she met my eyes.

"Dads, Mom, Aunt Liz, Gus and I gave her the middle name of Beth after my two aunts. Her first name is Lucinda."

I slowly began crying and didn't realize how strongly I was gripping Gus's shoulder until he looked up at me with a pained smile. Lucinda was his mother's name, Until Shannon, she was the person he felt truly understood him. Her loss had been the biggest blow in both of our lives.

Leaving that room was one of the most difficult things I ever did, but I realized that other people would want to meet Lucinda. When I returned to the waiting room, I told everyone her name and received congratulations from the people I loved.

Kate gave me a hug. "Did they say how long she was and how much she weighed?"

I searched my brain, but came up with nothing. "I think they did, but I'm blanking."

Everyone had a good-natured laugh, and I was sure that I had a look of befuddlement on my face. Pop slapped me on the back and asked if Gus was okay.

"Okay doesn't cover it."

Ethan filled everyone in on the details: length, weight, and time of birth. I slowly slipped away and found directions to a chapel. They didn't have a synagogue, but that was fine.

I sat down and had an awkward conversation with someone I wasn't sure was there. I prayed ineptly as I asked God to look over Shannon, to give Gus peace and for any heart issues with my granddaughter to fall upon me instead.

Gus wouldn't talk about it, it wasn't his way, but I knew that he was terrified that Lucinda might be on the spectrum. All I could do was to be there for him, but I wanted to figure out a way to let him know that he was on the spectrum and yet he was the joy of my life.

As I walked back to the waiting room, I saw the familiar, attractive nurse again. Suddenly, everything clicked. I was already in a weird headspace and filled with gratitude to the universe.

"Ma'am? Ma'am? Hi. Sorry to bother you. I just realized your father owns the music studio, right?"

Her eyes darted to the left and to the right. She looked irritated, but nodded.

"I've been trying to figure out why you looked familiar. He has your picture on his desk. I'm Steve. Steve Kirschbaum. He probably won't remember me. Can I ask a big favor? Can you just tell him that I said thank you? My son's wife just gave birth. Your father was extremely kind when Gus was in college. He makes these elaborate flipbook things, and your father ordered a few and then had some bands buy some. It helped Gus get through college on more than ramen. Just... I don't know. If you could just tell him I appreciate it, that'll be great."

"That sounds like Dad. I'll let him know. And congratulations."

The look of irritation was gone, but she wasn't exactly friendly or open. I thanked her again and hustled over to the waiting room.

I felt a drive to be useful, to do something. I was going to take a headcount and then go for a drive to get some sandwiches for everyone when three people with balloons entered the waiting room. Ethan, Shannon's father, smiled and went to greet them.

It was interesting watching the results of information flow. The first person to know anything was obviously Shannon. The next step was proximity. Her mother who was living with her and then me and pop who were next-door. At that point, it was a question of priorities. Ethan and Gus were called around the same time as Liz. Now, hours later, friends were notified and were drifting in.

They came singly, and they came in small groups. Some stayed for a while and others dropped gifts off before leaving. In total, around a dozen of Shannon's friends had stopped by. It was sweet, it was touching, and it was infuriating. Pop made his way to Shannon's room and soon returned with Gus.

He shook people's hands, handed out cigars, and endured hugs.

No one was malicious, and they all meant well, but everything was in proxy. He was accepting the affection on Shannon's behalf. They weren't there for Gus.

I decided to order some pizzas and got enough for our needs and three extra pies for other families in the waiting room. While I was waiting, a young man approached me.

"Mr. Kirschbaum? Can you give this to Gus?"

He handed me an envelope with Gus's name neatly printed on the outside. It took me a minute, but I finally recognized him. He shared the school bus with Gus from the time they were in elementary school. He had been over to the house a number of times and they played weird German board games. I couldn't remember his name, but thought it might be Charlie. I wasn't about to let him leave before my son knew he had a friend who was there for him.

"Of course. He was just here a minute ago. Sit down, relax. I know he'll love seeing you. So, catch me up on what you've been doing. I haven't seen you since, what, high school graduation?"

"I'm a mechanic for the county. My dad's a mechanic. He's been teaching me since I was a kid. I was able to ace my classes and get all my certs." He gestured towards the envelope. "It's nothing big. I just thought that they'd be busy with the baby and everything, so it's a gift certificate for Gerwig's Fine Food."

I nodded. "That's good thinking. Thank you. I know it will come in handy. Hey, there he is now. Gus!"

Gus excused himself from a small group of Shannon's friends and walked over to us, a smile in place. They immediately started talking as if they were back in high school and not a day had passed. I was hoping Gus would say something using the kid's name, but no such luck.

Eventually, people started to drift off. I saw that nurse again twice more and although I wasn't getting the stink eye, it was clear that she saw me as an irritant. I gave the nurses one of the untouched pies and tried to fade away into the recesses of the waiting room and not be a nuisance.

It was insanely difficult not to get up every five minutes, walk down the hallway and stare at Lucinda through the glass. The pull was almost as strong to spend every moment possible with Gus.

The sun had set, and I realized I wasn't doing anyone any good by sitting in that waiting room for one more minute. I went back down to check on my granddaughter and saw new nurses caring for the babies. My father had been a certified tough guy his entire life. There was a time when I would spit fire and chew through iron. Neither one of us had anything on the men and women who day in and day out give a piece of their heart to infants that weren't guaranteed to make it to the next day.

The nurse that was holding a baby saw me, smiled and looked around the small room. I pointed to Lucinda and then back to myself. Her smile grew wider as she nodded.

I kissed my fingers and placed them on the glass before heading to Shannon's room.

Ethan and Gus were in there with her. I told them that I was going to head home, but that I would be back the next day.

"Shannon, can I bring you anything?"

"I have the strangest urging for a cheeseburger with extra pickles. Could you stop on your way tomorrow?"

"You got it."

I thought that cravings ended once the baby was born, but what did I know? I was waiting for the elevator when I heard Gus.

"Dad, hold up."

Pop had gotten a ride with Kate and had left me his caddy. Gus walked me down to the car. Gus spoke in the hallway but didn't really say anything. He did that sometimes when he needed to ask me something serious. It was his way of working himself into the real conversation. When I opened the door, he finally said what was on his mind.

"Dad, I don't know how to do this. I've read every book I could find, but I don't know how to be a father. I'm going to mess this up. She... Lucinda needs someone normal. Someone who knows what to do."

I'd had a lifetime of knowing his boundaries, of what made him uncomfortable, and of his expectations. In that moment, I pushed all of that to the side and put my arm around my son. I could feel him stiffen, and his entire body grew tense as I hugged him. Slowly, ever so slowly, Gus began to relax. He didn't hug me back, but I took what I could get.

"Gus, being terrified and not knowing how to be a dad, has nothing to do with being on the spectrum and has everything to do with being human. Holding you in my arms the first time, I was in awe. When that faded enough to let some emotions trickle in, I was more afraid than at any other time in my life, including anything I experienced while serving. Just put one foot in front of the other and make Lucinda your priority and you'll do fine. I promise."

That fear was never going to completely leave him, but I thought I made an impact. We chatted for a few more minutes before he went back inside. I had to be up early and at work, so I pulled a Ziploc of leftover stew from the freezer, put it in a big bowl, and threw it in the microwave. I ate dinner in front of the TV while watching the news, but couldn't concentrate on anything. Eventually, I went upstairs and to bed.

Forty-five minutes later, I was back up, toolbox in hand, and walking over to Mrs. McLarty's house. I assumed that I would start to think of it as Gus and Shannon's house soon, but she had been our neighbor for decades before she passed and left the home to my son.

I was bound and determined to make it the most baby proof home in Colorado. It was going to be quite a while before Lucinda was walking anywhere, but that didn't stop me from installing gates and safety locks on draws. I had no idea how much time had passed before I heard the front door open.

"Couldn't sleep? I figured you'd be over here."

Pop lifted his hand that was holding the six-pack. We went out to the back porch and sat down. He popped open two beers and handed me one.

He raised his. "To Gus, my grandson. To Lucinda, my great-granddaughter. To Shannon, the smartest, prettiest girl we know and who loves Gus as much as he loves her."

I lifted my beer. "To family. I love you, old man."

"You better. You've been living in my house forever."

SHELLEY

Sometimes it felt like it was the people that work sanitation trucks, the people that make bagels and donuts, and me that populated the early hours of Pueblo. What little social life I had ground to a halt as our hours increased and increased and increased. I was craving sleep a lot more than a few drinks out with new friends. I stumbled to the kitchen, popped some cinnamon raisin bread into the toaster, and took my shower. I sat at the kitchen table while mindlessly eating my toast before heading out and almost breaking my ankle over a box just outside my door.

It was from Amazon, but addressed to my dad at the studio. Picking it up, I took it with me to the car. Once I was sitting down, I used my keys as an impromptu knife to open the box. Dad had gotten me some new orthopedic walking shoes and socks. I shook my head with a smile on my face.

We had a strange relationship, my father and me. It had been this way for as long as I could remember. He wouldn't come see me when his addiction issues were at their worst. Years went by when I was a kid, where I would only be able to recognize him from old pictures Mom kept. After he got into rehab and cleaned himself up, he began making sporadic appearances in my life. Those increased as I grew older, but the random gifts appearing out of nowhere continued. What had started as a balm for his guilt became a mainstay of our relationship.

It hadn't bothered me as a kid. I always had VIP and backstage tickets to sold-out events and knew in some vague way that dad was a very important man. As I grew older, my definitions of very important matured and his buying me everything he thought I might want grew wearisome.