Avi Knows Best

Moshe Avraham Mayze, known as Avi Mayze, had liked the idea of becoming a father when it was still only an abstract concept. He imagined a handsome, well-behaved son, growing up peacefully, with constant respect for his father’s wisdom. Avi enjoyed watching old movies and the series from his childhood in the 1950’s, with names like “Father Knows Best,” that lauded happy families led by kindly, intelligent men, who were flawed only enough to keep the viewer’s interest. These fathers left most of the parenting, it seemed, to their wives, while they enjoyed adult conversations and relaxed cups of coffee at their offices. Their children, growing up in an idyllic world in which human trafficking and school shootings could not even be imagined, got into mild trouble with every episode, but their heroic fathers would swoop in at the end of the day, returning home from work just in time to resolve all the tensions with a few, well-spoken words. That was the father Avi wanted to be. In pursuit of this dream, Avi married a beautiful woman, Naomi.

The prenatal visits, with their accompanying bills, were Avi’s first shock. No one had ever mentioned babies would cost so much, even before they were born. Then there was the challenge of setting up space for a baby. His wife, when she was over 6 months pregnant and growing ungainly, suddenly insisted on preparing the upstairs room next to their bedroom as the storage room to put the baby, although she called it a “nursery.” Avi allowed that without comment, until she asked him to be the one to paint it.

Avi was an electrical engineer in the aerospace industry by occupation, but he recognized art and music as his true calling. In his art, he had a passion for painting seascapes and portraits of the backs of people, so he offered to paint a mural in the baby's room. The light in the room might lend itself to a naval battle raging across stormy seas, with the seamen, viewed mostly from the back, fighting both the weather and their enemies. It would take much more time than the few months left in the pregnancy, of course, to do his best work, and his child deserved nothing less from him, but it would look spectacular when it was done. The only caveat was that they would have to keep the room bare so no furniture obscured the view of it. Naomi, however, insisted on yellow. No glorious mural, not even a few ships – just yellow.

“It’s neutral,” she explained. “So it will work whether this is a boy or a girl.”

“It’s a boy,” Avi insisted. “I told you I only wanted a boy, and you agreed that was all you wanted too.”

“It’s not my choice…”

“You’re right. I’m the man. It’s mine. So it’s a boy. And boys like ships. He will love the mural!”

Naomi shook her head. “From what you tell me, the baby may be in school before you’re done with it.”

“Probably, because he’ll be so smart. He’ll beg that we start him in school early. He will be that eager to learn. And one day, when he comes home, his room will be finished. He’ll come in to find the great masterpiece I created just for him, and he will never want to change it. He’ll love it so much, he’ll never want to leave that room. He’ll never want to move away…”

“So we’ll end up with a grown man still living with us?” Naomi frowned at him.

“Ah.” Avi had not thought of that. He fell silent, trying to imagine how he would coax his grown son to finally leave the bedroom with the wonderful mural he had loved.

“Paint it yellow,” Naomi suggested. “You can put the naval battle on a canvas we can hang on the wall, and when it comes time for our smart son to go away to college, he can take it with him.”

Avi sighed. “I don’t know how to paint with only one color,” he said.

“It is easier than with lots of colors. No blending needed, you can’t mess up the shading, and when you worry that you’ve put a color in the wrong spot, you can remind yourself that it doesn’t matter, because it looks just like the color you were supposed to put there.” She smiled at Avi’s discomfort. “Don’t worry. I’ll show you.”

She bought the pale yellow paint, covered the floors, taped the trim, washed the walls, and had everything ready for him by the next weekend. She had even bought two large brushes and two paint rollers so she could help him.

She insisted Avi dress in his oldest clothes. Naomi had no old clothes, herself, that still fit, since she was big with their son, but she found a ragged robe Avi had refused to throw away, and did her best to cover her nakedness with that. It didn’t work well. The robe kept falling open and Avi was constantly being distracted by the sight of one part of her body or another that she had not intended to show. If she were still the young, nubile girl he had married…but her whole body had swollen with her pregnancy – not just her stomach – and he was sorry to admit she was not as attractive to him as she had used to be. To ease his guilt for that, and to hopefully make her feel better, he tried to flirt with her when the belt of the robe, which barely stretched around her now, fell off to the floor below the ladder she was on, letting the robe fly open.

“Wow. What a peep show. Two for the price of one.” He smiled to signal it was only a joke, but she bristled.

Naomi carefully descended the ladder, apparently afraid of falling since her balance had changed with the life growing inside her. When she reached the floor, she put down her roller in the tray of paint, on the draped worktable in the middle of the room. Only then did she pull the robe closed again. The paint on her hands left smears not only on her skin, but also on the threadbare fabric, including half the stain from one particularly disgusting drink his buddies had conned him into trying during a college party.

“I’ll leave you to it, then” she said, stiffly, as she headed out the door.

“Make sure you wash my robe immediately,” he called after her, “before the paint dries on it.”

Then, left alone in the room with nothing but yellow paint, he decided to experiment, drawing designs over designs in layers, so some places the yellow might shade darker than others.

When Naomi peeked into the room a few hours later, expecting the first coat of paint on the walls to be done and drying, she saw the ghost of the naval battle worked in yellow against the old white of the walls.

Silently she walked away, down the stairs, and into the kitchen. Avi heard the roar of the blender, though he noted it had taken on an unusual sound mixed with its normal, deafening grind, almost like a scream. He shook his head, worried that the motor was giving out, but pushed the thought aside so he could focus on his painting.

He worked hard on his painting. It took so many layers to change the color even slightly. By the end of the weekend, however, it was starting to look…interesting. By the next weekend, when he could finally resume his work, he found the entire room had turned into a flat, boring yellow. Someone had painted over his painting!

His first feeling was fury. All his work! Naomi had to be the culprit.

Naomi was pregnant, he reminded himself. Pregnant women sometimes did crazy things, right? And he had watched how difficult it was for her to go up and down that ladder. It must have taken her a lot of effort to paint over all his work herself. She must truly have wanted the walls to be just yellow. What she had done to him and his art was wrong – cruel even – but he had to assume she had good intentions. He took a few deep, slow breaths and forced his anger away.

His next trial, once the nursery was painted, was a shopping trip for the unborn baby. He watched, horrified, as the expense quickly rose with baby clothes (couldn’t they just stay naked? What had babies to cover?), car seats (he had never had a car seat when he was growing up. Why was that even a thing?), strollers (why would anyone ever want to take the child out of the house?), diapers (it costs that much just for something to hold poop?) and baby furniture.

“Naomi, a cradle is a waste of money. The clerk said the baby would outgrow it in only three months. We should just get the crib. Or better yet, go right to a bed.”

“A baby would roll out of a bed and get hurt.”

“You know, he may even like camping, so we could just get a sleeping bag and put it on the floor…”

“He could roll or crawl away if we left him on the floor! When he starts crawling or walking, who knows what he could get into?”

“I have the perfect solution. That baby cage!”

“The play pen?”

“That’s the one!” Avi agreed. “You will have him in it during the day anyway. Let him be in it at night too. It’s big enough to play, so it’s big enough to sleep. He doesn’t need anything else.”

“The play pen is for downstairs,” Naomi pointed out. “He’ll need something for upstairs too.”

“Why? Just leave him downstairs. That will be even better. We won’t have to hear him if he starts crying in the night. With luck, he won’t disturb our sleep at all.”

“You can’t ignore a baby’s crying,” Naomi exclaimed.

“I think it’s possible,” Avi argued, “if you try hard enough, and practice. If not, we could get ear plugs.”

Naomi stared at him silently, a look of shock on her face. Clearly, she could think of no argument to refute his brilliant points, so she pulled out the woman’s ultimate, and most unfair, tactic to get her way. She burst out crying.

“You don’t love our baby!”

Avi sighed.

“Of course I do! I love him enough not to want to impoverish ourselves before he is even born. There are better things to put money to, other than expensive, useless furniture he’ll outgrow in a few months – probably just days after we figure out how to put it together.”

Naomi, his beautiful, usually intelligent and practical wife, would not stop crying. In the end she got her way. Even though Avi thought he could ignore his baby crying, he could not ignore his wife’s tears.

Then, one Sunday in May, late at night, Naomi came to Avi in the art studio he had made of one of the downstairs bedrooms. He was working on the naval battle painting for his son, his television blaring in the background, so he didn’t hear her at first.

“Avi, I think it’s time to go to the hospital.” After several tries, she had finally yelled loudly enough to be heard.

“It can’t be,” he replied. “It’s too late at night. And it’s Sunday. If a hospital is even open this late at night, surely it will be closed on Sunday. Monday, too, since that’s a holiday.”

Naomi winced in pain, leaning forward, groaning softly for a moment, then she relaxed and said, “they had better be open, because I’m pretty sure I’m in labor.”

“Can you cross your legs?” Avi begged. “It’s Memorial Day tomorrow. We were going on that picnic with the Polenskis. You were looking forward to that.”

Naomi shook her head and doubled over, crying, as a contraction hit.

“Just take me to the hospital NOW!” she cried as soon as the spasm passed.

“Maybe chamomile tea?”

“I’m getting my bag and getting in the car. You be there in 5 minutes or else I’ll call a taxi!”

“No! Don’t do that! They cost too much, and they’ll get you lost only to run up the bill. Just wait until I clean my brushes…”

“5 minutes” she called over her shoulder.

To Avi’s shock and relief, the hospital was open. He expected all kinds of paperwork he’d have to fill out and a long wait before they were admitted, but by the time they had gotten there, Naomi’s contractions were only a few minutes apart, so the nurses rushed her in. Avi followed long enough to see his wife safely settled in a hospital bed. Then he kissed her and headed toward the door.

“Don’t you want to stay?” the nurse asked.

Avi shook his head. “I’d just be in the way.”

“Have you done any Lamaze classes?”

“Never heard of it,” he said.

“Well, you can still hold her hand and help her relax.”

“Would it really help?”

“Oh yes!” the nurse insisted.

From her bed Naomi made a fearsome sound halfway between a groan and a scream. Avi rushed to her side and took her hand. Naomi squeezed it so hard that Avi fell to his knees in agony.

“Do you have pain killer?” he cried to the nurse.

“We’re preparing her epidural now.”

“What about me?” Avi demanded.

The contraction passed and Naomi released her grip and lay back with a sigh.

“Go wait in the waiting room,” she told her husband. “You’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Avi asked.

“God, yes!” Naomi answered him. “Go!”

“Would you like me to get you something to eat?”

Naomi didn’t try to answer. Another contraction was coming. Avi could see it about to hit, so he fled the room.

It was after midnight when the nurse came to invite him to meet his child.

“It’s Memorial Day,” Avi noted. “Seems unlucky to remember the dead by giving birth.”

“It seems the best way possible to me,” said the nurse, an overweight, older woman with long, brown hair and a friendly smile. “I’m a veteran, so believe me. Our soldiers fight and die to protect us, so we can grow our country. You’re doing that now. You’ve just grown it by one.”

Avi nodded, too tired to argue.

He followed the nurse into the hospital room, to be greeted by the sight of his wife holding the suckling baby to her bare breast.

“Oh no!” he said, going straight out the door again. “Call me when she’s done.”

He returned 15 minutes later, with a chocolate bar he had bought from the vending machine.

“Are you decent?” he called through the door.

“Never!” Naomi called back, sounding more like her old self.

Cautiously, Avi peeked through the doorway. His wife was still holding their baby, wrapped in a blanket, still pressed against her chest, but now the baby was sleeping and Naomi was covered. As quietly as he could, so he wouldn’t wake the baby, Avi crept toward them.

“I brought you some chocolate,” he whispered to Naomi, holding the bar up so she could see.

“I’m still nauseous,” she said. “Please put it on this table next to me. I’ll eat it later.”

“Nauseous? Are you O.K.?”

“I’ll be fine. I just need to rest.” She smiled at Avi, “Come here and see your baby.”

Avi stepped closer and looked down at the sleeping child. He couldn’t see much more than the head peeking out of a bundle of blankets. The head seemed a bit long and thin. It had a tuft of dark hair framing a blotchy face. It was disappointing. He had grown up with the saying that “brides and babies are always beautiful.” For some reason he had thought that was true, but his baby wasn’t beautiful.

“He’ll probably look better as he grows,” Avi said.

“It’s a she,” Naomi told him.

“No!” Avi stared at her, shocked. “We agreed on a boy!”

“God had a different plan.”

Avi scowled. “I don’t know what to do with a girl. I have a younger brother, not a sister.”

“Well, now you have a daughter.”

Avi stared at his baby, thinking that her unfortunate looks would be even harder for a girl than it would have been for a boy.

“Do you want to hold her?” Naomi asked.

Avi held up his hands in front of him and backed away.

“No, I’ll break her.”

“Come, sit on the bed beside me,” Naomi said, shifting to give him room. When he complied, she placed the baby in his arms. The baby was heavier than he had expected. She looked so small, but maybe this meant she had sturdy bones. The baby didn’t wake as she was transferred, but her tiny mouth fell open. She looked very peaceful and, despite the blotches on her face, kind of sweet.

“We have to name her,” Naomi said.

“She was supposed to be Adam.”

“We’ll save Adam for the next one, if it’s a boy.”

“Next one?” Avi scowled. After all they had suffered bringing this one into the world, how could Naomi want to do this again?

“I’m willing to try again for a boy, unless you prefer to adopt.”

Avi shook his head. “If you’re willing…but give me a bit of a break first.”

“The next one will be much easier,” Naomi promised. “We already have all the stuff we need. He’ll just use his sister’s hand-me-downs.”

That realization brought a relieved smile to Avi’s face. “You’re right!”

“Avi,” said his wife after a moment. “I know you’re disappointed, but do you think you can love a girl?”

“Of course,” Avi answered, without hesitation. “I love you.”

“A daughter is not the same as a wife, you know.”

“I know. Don’t worry.” He smiled down at the sleeping baby. “I like her already. She’s nice and quiet.”

Naomi chuckled but, wisely, kept her thoughts to herself and allowed her husband to enjoy his moment.

A little over two tumultuous years later, Avi received his son, Adam. Naomi had been right about it being cheaper the second time, but, even so, Avi was ready to stop procreating. Officially, he said it was because he didn’t want to push the crowded world into worse overpopulation. The deeper truth, however, was that fatherhood was nothing like he had expected.

He had done everything he could to make his dream a reality. He married, fathered children, provided the necessities of life, went to work every day, enjoying adult conversations over good coffee with other engineers, then came directly home, ready to dispense whatever words of wisdom would help his family.

The noisy, messy home to which he returned, each night, however, was something quite different than his beloved old television shows and movies had led him to expect. The problems his family dealt with were nothing like the ones his role models on screen had faced, and even his most sage words did no good. Either his family ignored them, or failed to implement them properly or, perhaps, the problem was the world didn’t respond to them as it should.

Fatherhood was supposed to be easy. Avi discovered that it wasn’t. It forced him to grow and change far more than he had ever wanted. Many years later, however, as Avi and Naomi were joined by both their children, and their children's spouses, to welcome their first granddaughter into the world, it suddenly occurred to Avi that raising his remarkable children had been the best thing he had ever done.

"With all I've learned throughout the years," Avi thought to himself, staring at the splotchy face of the beautiful newborn, "maybe this time my words of wisdom will finally work."