The Sixth Generation

An Old Friend & Shopping

After Lauren and I finished our dinner, we immediately headed over to the store to get the necessary things for a child. I don't even know what to buy for a child; I've never had one! Honestly, if I didn't have Lauren by my side, I'd probably try to buy air.

"Please tell me the gender, age, and name." I beg my wife as we get out of the car, stepping into the musky evening of April. The sky is a beautiful red color, mixing in with the blues and purples of the higher parts of the sky. The bright, large store in front of us ruins the pureness of the sky.

"It's a girl." Lauren shrugs, taking her hand in mine. "That's all they told me."

"Are you sure?" I ask, swinging our hands back and forth excitedly.

"Positive." Lauren answers. We are making our way to the doors of the store when I see Satan himself—a salesman. Okay, maybe I'm being dramatic, but Lauren and I have a passionate hatred for people trying to sell us useless junk. I mean, who wouldn't?

The salesman, an old guy with graying hair, approaches us, a paper gripped in his boney hands. On the paper is pictures of vehicles and very tiny printed writing. "Hello, ladies." He says, nodding to us. "Take a break from driving and rent a taxi. It's ea—"

"Excuse me, I can only afford the bus. Taxis are expensive." Lauren shouts at the man, glaring in his direction and gently tugging me to the entrance. I cast the old man a sympathetic smile. Yes, I do hate salesmen, but the look on his face when Lauren yelled at him was sad enough.

Lauren and I walk into the baby store, allowing the gust of wind to hit us as we stroll in. Many families roam the aisles, picking out various things of need. The shop is very clean and I must admit that it smells nice. Large shelves with children supplies create mazes in the building.

"How are we supposed to pick out things for a child if we don't know their age?" I complain, glancing around the room nervously. No matter how much I want a child; it's still stressful to think about providing that child with food, love, safety, and protection.

"I vote we just get her a bed and a stuffed animal—just to be safe." Lauren offers, her pupils shrinking from the bright light of the store.

"But what kind of bed?" I mumble, squeezing Lauren's hand tightly. "Babies have different beds than toddlers."

"I'll call Ryan." Lauren suggests, her eyes shifting to me. I nod, agreeing with her. She pulls out her phone, her green eyes searching for something before she taps her thumb against the screen. She brings the phone up to her ear, waiting for a reply.

"Yes?" My wife finally says into the phone, her tone light-hearted. "It's me, Lauren Cabello-Jauregui, and my partner and I were wondering about the call we got a little bit earlier today."

More silence.

"Ah, yes. And we were wondering what age she was? And possibly her name?" Lauren asks after the short silence. Her eyes narrow as she leans into the phone, all her focus on the receiver's words. "Perfect. Thank you." And with that, she hangs up.

"So...?" I drawl, my eyes not leaving my wife's face as she shoves her phone back into her pocket. Her emerald eyes flicker up to mine, causing a smile to tug on my lips.

"She is four years old and her name is Charlotte." Lauren answers, a grin large and broad on her face.

I squeal, immediately shutting myself up afterwards because of all the glares I got from parents with sleeping babies. "Sorry." I murmur, looking down and rubbing my neck in embarrassment.

Lauren giggles, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "I love you." She says simply, kissing the side of my forehead. "You're like the sunshine on a cloudy day."