In one hand he supports a crying girl on his arm. Esther’s forehead has never been hotter, and her complaints have given him a consecutive headache throughout the day. Several times he has called the doctor – of course he already went twice – for advice. In the other hand he holds a phone. One of those old Nokias, whom his generation affectionately refers to as a stonephone. He broke the screen of his smartphone ( Samsung ; he does not have the dough for an iPhone ) a couple of weeks ago and was allowed to lend his cousin’s old phone. That is to say, the only one Sarah managed to not destroy.
His ex, Hildi, is yammering in the other end. He’s a useless this, he’s an incompetent that. Just because their daughter managed to catch a fever at the daycare, Max is the ultimate evil. And he’s actually finding himself agreeing with her. Maybe it’s unmanly of him, but he can feel the frustration bubble up in his chest and threaten to break through his eyeballs like tears. Meanwhile, his other ear is filled with Esther’s screaming, but he cannot bring himself to put her down. The gentle bouncing seems to at least help a little.
Another emotion mingles in with the frustration and guilt: embarrassment. He’s aware that nearly everyone in his apartment building can hear his crying daughter and his spluttering apologies. He needs help.
Hesitantly, he tells Hildi to ❛ hold on for a second ❜, while he grabs Esther’s favorite stuffed animal and heads out of the door. His knock is just as embarrassed as he is, but it’s desperate ( again, just like him ). He has his phone on mute and wishes he could do that to his daughter, too, when his handsome neighbor opens the door.
❛ I am so sorry for barging in, but could you please help me with Esther? She’s been crying like this all day, and her mother is on the phone, and it’s all just –- ❜ He lets out a sigh. ❛ A lot. ❜
the crying has been echoing up the building for hours , and for just as long he has been trying to convince himself to go over there , lend a hand . however , he’s hesitating , unsure if his help is needed , or wanted for that matter . instead he sits , feet kicked up on the table , collage radio playing quietly in the background as he eyes the clock while it ticks . it must be exhausting , he thinks ; crying so loudly for so long . a spurt of sympathy towards the weeping child and her devoted , loving good looking father has him standing , feet moving towards the door . as if it had been orchestrated by a dried up hollywood director , his fingers curl around the handle the second the sound of knuckles against wood rings out across the apartment . he realizes he probably opened the door at an embarrassing speed , perhaps a bit too eager , maybe a smudge too obvious . lips curl slightly , ‘ don’t apologize , ---- come in ‘ blue eyes flickering between the man and his wailing daughter as he takes a step back to invite the other into his apartment . belatedly he realizes it’s a bit of a mess in there , clothes and papers strewn across the table , days old coffee mugs laying around collecting dust . as to divert the attention from his mess of a living - space , he makes an open gesture with his arms , a quiet offering for max to pass the small crying child onto him . honestly , he enjoys this . he’s always been fond of children , and they seem to always be rather fond of him as well , and esther is a good kid . a good kid with a good father ; he can tell . there is something in him that cannot stand seeing good people struggle ; and there’s a crystal clear goodness in max that he’s rather taken with . okay , so maybe his good looks have a little bit to do with it , but that’s a detail he has already made up his mind to disregard . ‘ let me handle her , ‘ he prompts , a friendly curl to his lip , ‘ finish your call , i’ll see if i can entertain your little highness . ‘
