Bad Boy Judah

f o r t y o n e

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Judah looks stressed. He drives fast, making the ride uncomfortable. Plus, baby Ryder hates his car seat with a passion, because he fusses and squirms in it. I try my best to alleviate his discomfort by shifting his tiny soft back around. The bumps and curves in the road don't help.

"Could you drive slower?" I finally ask Judah.

His hand grips the steering wheel, as he glances at me from the rear-view mirror.

I say, "I want to take him out of his car seat. Can't we make a pit stop?"

Thankfully, Judah doesn't say something irritating.

Judah pulls into a parking lot of a small shopping centre. I open the door for fresh night air. The stuffy old car smell was getting to me. I take baby Ryder in my arms and try to feed him, while Judah roams outside the car with arms crossed.

"How long are we going to be on the run?"

Poor baby Ryder is so hungry that he spills milk. My thumb wipes the side of his mouth for him.

"I don't know," Judah comes next to me.

"Can't we get a hotel for the night," I look around.

"No," Judah shakes his head.

"Why not?" I whine.

"Because Rose," he scowls, "Somebody might give away our location. I can't trust anyone right now."

Ryder grunts. I sigh, impatient. Judah rubs his eyes.

"There must be something..." I say.

He snaps, "Rose!"

I shut up. He regrets yelling at me, because he rubs his face and sighs. He takes a seat next to me.

"I'm sorry. I just—"

"Mhm," I say softly.

He moves his gaze outwards onto the other parked vehicles. I clean Ryder up and pull my sweatshirt down.

"I know you're trying to protect us," I tell him, "I don't really care about what happens as long as we're together and we're alright."

I lift Ryder over my shoulder to burp him, and he does in no time.

It's quiet. I stare at Ryder and fix his hat. His eyes are wide awake and he takes in the world around him, as he struggles to stick his fingers in his mouth.

"You want to..." I say out loud. My head lifts. "You want to hold him?"

Judah turns to look at me.

"My hands are dirty," he murmurs.

But I pass him his baby, anyway.

"Wait 'till you wipe his butt," I say.

He takes him and grins. The two of them have a staring contest.

This feels like the calm between storms. My head decides to rest on Judah's shoulder, breathing him in, even though he smells of gunpowder and sins.

"I gave you misery. But you gave me a son," Judah says, "It's not fair to you."

Perhaps, I think to myself. But they say after childbirth, you forget about the pain. I seem to forget all and every pain.

I lift my eyes and get a close up of the ink on Judah's neck. I touch my name on his skin.

"Why'd you name him Ryder?" I ask.