Loverpants and I were watching a show (Okay, it was "Baldwin Hills." Don't hate.) and one of the girls reveals to her friend that she is pregnant. The friend is at a loss for words, cameras are rolling, the two girls hug and the friend says, "I got you." Loverpants says, "Do you really know what that means at 20 years old? I mean...really? 'I got you.' Would you even say our friends know what that means?" ***
Michael is standing in front of the big front desk that dwarfs me for one of fourteen chats we will have throughout the workday at our miserable workplace of low morale and general chaos. I say that I can't wait to have a baby. "Sometimes you don't have to wait," he says, suddenly pulling his gaze away, smiling and sighing at the same time.
"Michael, do you have a kid?!"
I am suddenly filled with an overwhelming desire to be there for this person whom I have only known two months, whose girlfriend will give birth in four.
I get to meet Baby B. the day he is born. He does not have a name yet but he has Michael's face and Katie is glowing and Michael is amped and my eyes fill with tears -- it is too much to see my friends distilled into a new person.
*** Katie and Michael are among the first people I tell. Our baby has the same due date as Wyatt, just one year later.
Michael's dad is his best man and he gives the toast, "Katie, I ask that you never stop loving Michael, because I know that he will never stop loving you."
I cannot see Katie or Michael during the toast, but I can imagine what they look like. Katie, so beautiful and unpretentious, is smiling warmly, she has one hand around her wine glass and one around Michael, the person who stood by her as she was breathing her way through labor, the person who reminds her to keep breathing through every subsequent trial. Michael is smiling humbly, he is thinking that he is "wicked embarried" by the toast, but he is standing taller in this moment because he is surrounded by the dozens of people who embolden him, whom he does not hesitate to tell that he appreciates.
I give thanks in this moment for awful McJobs that compel friendships to grow.
Michael, you once cried before 4th grade listening to "Innocent Man"; you are the perfect sensitive, intense, good-humored person for Katie. Katie, you once smuggled Henrietta the chicken under your coat and pretended it ain't no thang, you are the perfect fun-loving, caring and spiritual person for Michael. Together, you will continue to cry all sorts of tears, make all kinds of mischief, and continue to gain new hearts and new love for one another and for your son Wyatt.
I love you kats and I want you to know, forevah and evah -- I got you.