Pained sobs. Muffled voices. A cacophony of medical noise. The obstetrician needed to check vitals and health, but it was in this typical scene Mr. Nole saw his son born.

‘What did you decide on?” Mrs. Nole asked as her pain gave way to the natural chemical reactions of joy as she held her son. 

“Lionel. He’ll be our young lion.”

The obstetrician took the baby for a health check. Mrs. Nole’s smile remained as her tears trickled. “I love you.”

Mr. Nole took his wife’s hand in his. “I love you too. I love our son. I love our family.”

-

“Honey, do you have to leave so often?” Mr. Nole asked, rocking a crying Lionel in one arm, and holding a full bottle of milk in the other. 

“I wish I didn’t but I can’t bring clients to my own home.” She unlocked the front door and took a step outside before making an about-face. She kissed her husband and her son. “I love you both. Be good little one. Don’t give your father such a hassle. Try to get some sleep. Call the neighbors if you need some shut-eye.” She left.

The phone rang, competing with Lionel for vocal dominance. 

-

Mr. Nole read the technical report, completely focused before suddenly, “Lionel, no,” The one year old Lionel successfully knocked over the trash can. He giggled triumphantly.

“I’m sorry Mr. Connors, can you hold on a second. Yea, I… I know. My wife’s going to be free tomorrow and we can finish this at the factory. Thanks.” This firm needed him and yet his son was more important. 

He bent over to pick up Lionel. “Why can’t you play with your toys Leo. 

Lionel voiced a gaggle of incomprehensible speech but then, “Daddy,” punctuated the end of his presentation.

“Was that?”

“Daddy,” the baby repeated.

“Yes. Yes! Eat that, mom” Mr. Nole’s smile spread from ear to ear, and his wallet would be expanded that night.

-

“And why can’t you take my son into your pre-school?” 

The caretaker was taken aback but resolute. “We’ve heard from some of our colleagues that…”

“That what. He’s had his vaccines, his tests, and at the first pre-schools, we sat in and nothing. What are they telling you.” This was the sixth school to turn the Noles down. 

“He has a presence, Mr. Nole. A bad presence.”

“But what has he done?!”

She fidgeted. “I don’t have an answer for you, Mr. Nole.”

-

Mrs. Nole tapped her foot and made a clicking sound with her lips. “How could they just drop you like that? Other consultants refer to you for your expertise.”

“I don’t know, Lucy. But that was my last client. I’m out of work and absolutely no one is taking my calls. I’m sorry.”

“Mommy?” Lionel said, reaching up. Mrs. Nole picked him up. He was four years old. He was getting too big for this.

“I’m going to have to accept more patients.” Mrs. Nole stroked her son’s hair. He giggled. “I won’t get to see him much at all if I do that. Stop that. This isn’t your fault.”

Mr. Nole had pressed his hand into his forehead and sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s just, there’s no explanation for this. There’s nothing at all, but it’s ruining everything I’ve built for the past fifteen  years.”

“You have me and your son. You’ve done a great job raising him to be sweet and caring, no matter what others are saying. I should be sorry I haven’t helped you enough.”

“Honey, I love you. Don’t feel sorry. This is for all of us.”

-

“I’m home,” announced Mrs. Nole to an empty living room. 

“Mommy!” Pipped a four year old Lionel from upstairs. He stomped down the stairs and hugged her around the waist.

“Hi mommy.”

“Hi Leo, dear. Where is your father?”

“He’s stinking upstairs.”

She shook her head. “Thank you, Leo. Stay down here for a bit. I’m going to go find stinky daddy.” 

She found him in Leo’s bedroom. He was filling a pipe over Lionel’s bed. “So you’re smoking again in…” he spilled the pipe surprised. “Goddamnit, not on the bed. Not even in the house.”

“I can’t do this anymore, Lucy.”

“Of course you can’t. I thought you quit smoking years ago and now you’re doing it in the house….in Leo’s Room….on his bed.”

“I can’t do this anymore, Lucy.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

Mr. Nole sat silently. Mrs. Nole shook her head, told him she’d order take-out and left him there. He finished his pipe. 

-

“I’m telling you, we need to get him tested, Lucy.”

“You’re imagining things.”

It was three a.m., and Mr. Nole had been out of work for a full year now. The lavender tea wasn’t working. “It makes sense though. The daycares, the nurses, even the fucking baby doctor. And me!”

Mrs. Nole furrowed her brow. “I’m his mother. Why wouldn’t this… Thing… Affect me? I’m a part of his life as much as you.” Mr. Nole scoffed. “Excuse me.”

“You’ve done jack-shit but work and make money and you know it. It’s always been me who’s been there for the boy. I stayed at home. I changed his diapers. I went out to all those daycares and doctor’s visits. You cared more about your work than our son. You cared about your work more than you cared about me.”

“You’re wrong, I…”

He raised his voice. “What, Lucy, what?! What can you possibly say to that? Nothing’s happened to you, right? Nothing. This only works if you care about him. If you think about him. It’s happened to me the most because I always care about him and love him and put him first. I was at the peak of my life, now it’s gone. It’s... Nadir. That’s it. Nadir. And you know what? I’m still going to love him from now until forever cause that’s what parents do. At least should do.”

Her lip trembled. She tried to speak. 

“Louder, woman.”

“There is no test for what you describe,” she shouted. “There’s nothing, no medical test for anything that your describing. That’s probably why it’s-”

“Postpartum. God, do you and all of your colleagues think the same way?”

“No, no it’s just that-”

“There’s nothing that can help me if it’s him then, is there? Nothing at all.”

“I’m sorry.”

-

Lionel woke in a cold sweat. The word clung to him like his shirt. Nadir. The term existed for him. His father gave it to him. Panic coursed through his body. How could he forget? His father had loved him and yet his despair outgrew his love and it became…

This is how I am. Lionel turned over in his bed, unable to find comfort.