by Katy Evans
“Damn, India. I didn’t think you would actually go through with it.”
That’s not a comforting statement. It makes me feel like I made a mistake. A huge mistake. Montana seems to realize her error and backtracks a little.
“I just mean it’s a gutsy move. But it was the right thing to do. You can breathe now. You don’t have to spend all your time somewhere you’re not valued and happy.”
“What if it’s not so bad? What if I have made a horrible mistake, just because I can’t take a little snappiness from my boss?” And the way he makes me nervous as hell...and breathless...
How do I explain to her that I saw his vulnerability and it’s tugged at my heart somehow?
“India, I know you. You’re tough as nails. I know you wouldn’t overreact to something like this. If you say he’s a nightmare, then I’m sure he is. Which means you’re better off jobless than stuck under some controlling bastard’s thumb.”
“You’re right... It’s just hard to think that way right now.”
“I know. Quitting your job is a scary thing. But you’ll be okay. You did it knowing you have a safe backup. You’ve done the right thing. Coffee?”
I smile. Montana thinks a drink is the answer to everything. “Thanks, but I have some.”
Montana nods, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek before heading to pour herself a cup. I lean my head on the arm of the chair, still a little shell-shocked by the events of the day.
Montana returns with her coffee, while I hold my mug close to my chest. Both of us are silent. I sigh. Each time I think back to what happened in the office, one thing sticks in my mind. I decide that perhaps Montana can help me make sense of it.
“You want to know something strange?” I ask her. She sits up straight, tucking her legs underneath her on the sofa.
“Always.”
I chew my lip. “Before I left, William said I was a good employee. I think... I think that’s the kindest thing he’s ever said to me the whole time I worked there.”
Montana sniffs, looking wholly unimpressed. “Well, it’s hardly a shining compliment, is it? He could’ve at least been a little more enthusiastic.”
“Well, I suppose that’s true. But you don’t know him, Mon. He’s a workaholic. For him to give a compliment is rare, but for him to give me a compliment about my work performance...well, that counts as high praise from him.”
“What are you saying?”
“I just think that perhaps I misjudged his actions. Maybe he’s always been cruel to be kind when it comes to me. Maybe he was hoping to encourage me by keeping me on my toes, pushing me to reach my potential.”
Montana tuts, lightly slapping my arm. “I don’t know why you would ever defend his behavior like that, India. Besides, even if that is true, isn’t that kind of manipulative?”
I struggle to find a way to get my argument back on track. “I’m just saying, maybe he’s not as bad as he comes across. I mean I hate the phrase misunderstood but maybe that’s what he is. Misunderstood. He’s under a lot of pressure, running such a high-profile company.”
“Yeah, yeah. I get what you’re saying. You’re saying that he should be excused because he does incredible work. He must be so great because he handles it all with grace. Except he doesn’t, does he? Hotshot or not, he’s not a nice guy. You’re lucky to be completely rid of him.”
I sigh. Maybe bringing this up to Montana was a bad idea. She’s never met the guy, so how could she possibly see my point of view? Though she’s right—defending the guy who has made my life miserable doesn’t reflect well on me. It makes me sound like I like being constantly beaten down by a man who thinks he’s superior to me just because he got dealt a better hand in life.
But haven’t I done the same to him? Sure, maybe he started the whole cycle by being harsh to me. But was it always that way, or did I drive him crazy with my snarky comments and poor attitude? He kept me around only because I was a good worker. Maybe in his mind I’m just as bad as he is in mine.
The thought gives me a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Montana can see that I’m torturing myself. She nudges my arm, looking concerned. “Hey. You’re overthinking everything. You need to let it go. This is where your new life begins. Make the most of it.”
She’s right. I can’t just mope around, second-guessing myself forever. I sit up straighter, rolling my shoulders to get comfortable. Then I grab my laptop and open my emails. There’s a message from Lauren Garvey. I smile. This is it.
“Right. New life. Here we go.”
Six
William
It’s Saturday. Alex and Kit are on their way now to drop off Rosie. I’m stalking around the house, desperately trying to make sure that everything is clean and safe. Rosie can’t even crawl yet, but part of me is still terrified that she’ll somehow escape her crib and manage to hurt herself. I’ve hidden every wire in the house so she doesn’t electrocute herself, along with anything that’s fragile that she could break and cut herself with. I’ve put locks on the knife drawers to make sure she can’t get in. I realize how insane my preparations are. She’s literally still a baby. But it feels important to get this right. A small life will be in my hands.
Not to be dramatic or anything.
I decide there’s not much more I can do, so I head downstairs to sit in the living room. I can’t keep still, as my legs are bouncing up and down while I try to be patient for Rosie’s arrival. I don’t want to give in to nerves. That’s when I start making stupid mistakes, and I can’t afford to do that when the baby arrives. I rub at my throbbing forehead, wishing I had taken a pill to soothe my headache.
A knock at the door makes me jump. I leap up, brushing invisible creases out of my pants. I take a deep breath as I head for the door. I haven’t felt this nervous since prom night, when I attempted to have my first kiss with the cutest girl in my year. Hopefully looking after Rosie is going to be a more successful endeavor.
When I open the door, Alex is standing with Rosie in her arms. My sister-in-law is not one for smiling much, but she looks miserable today. It’s been a while since I last saw her, and she’s lost weight. Her eyes are ringed with dark circles, and her hair is limp and unwashed. I blink twice, wondering if the woman standing before me is the same one I’ve always known. Is this what I’m going to look like after two weeks with Rosie?
Alex laughs at my expression. “Don’t be fooled by the cute little face. She’s a terror,” she says, but her tone is fond. She kisses Rosie’s forehead and pushes past me to get inside, holding the baby in her arms.
I glance down the driveway and spot Kit struggling with a bunch of baby supplies. I’m about to help out when my father appears from around the side of the car. He waves to me and I head over to say hi, wondering what he’s doing here.
“Dad... I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”
My father smiles. Like Kit, he smiles easily. Alex and I take a little more coaxing, I guess. “Hey, son. Did you think I was going to miss this for the world? Seeing you with a baby?” He laughs heartily. “Well, given your track record with the ladies, it might be a while before you’ve got a kid of your own. I wanted to see you try out Daddy Daycare.”
He and Kit are laughing at me now, and I force a smile, pretending to find it funny too.
“I promise to do as good a job as you, Dad,” I shoot back, and Kit chokes and laughs even harder, probably remembering that Dad couldn’t be left alone with either of us when we were babies because he’d panic about poop, vomit and our getting into trouble.
“Well, if you’re making fun of my parenting when you two were little, then let me admit that I’m relieved you’re taking care of precious little Rosie and not me,” Dad says.
“Seriously, bro, thanks so much for doing this,” Kit says when he finally stops laughing. He looks almost as tired as Alex, though s
ome of his usual energy still shines through. “We really appreciate it, especially so last-minute. I’m hoping once Alex’s sister is all better, we’ll still be able to catch our honeymoon. But I guess we’ll see how she is first.”
Kit and my father start carrying everything into the house, and I follow them. They dump a crib, a playpen and piles of toys and supplies in the center of the living room. Alex is reclining on the sofa with Rosie in her arms. She closes her eyes, holding the small bundle close to her chest. It’s a relaxing sight, though I can’t imagine how many sleepless nights have led to this moment. I’m suddenly glad to be helping out, even if only for the sake of Alex’s getting a break. She looks like she needs it.
Meanwhile my dad is checking out the house. He hasn’t been here in quite some time—I guess now that he’s retired, he’ll have time to visit more often, if only I’d carve time out of my schedule to invite him over.
I try to gauge whether he’s impressed, but as usual he’s unreadable. He shrugs, almost to himself, before starting to unpack Rosie’s things.
“So, you think you can handle the little princess all alone?” Dad asks, looking at one of Rosie’s toys like it’s an alien artifact. I nod.
“I’ve got this.”
“And are you all set up to work from home?”
“Yes, Father. I’m thoroughly prepared.” I refrain from telling my father that I’m winging it right now, because “winging it” isn’t usually my style.
Dad claps my shoulder with his large hand. “I know, son. I don’t doubt you.”
It sounds like you do, I want to say, but I keep my mouth shut. Now isn’t the time to be confrontational. No matter how much my family winds me up and teases me, I have to remain calm. That’s how I’ve always dealt with them, and it’s worked so far.
My father can’t seem to stand that I’m not a partier like he was in his younger days. He worries I’m too much of a workaholic and too uptight, and he taunts me relentlessly about it. There’s more to life than work, Will, he’ll say. And to Kit, he used to say, When are you going to take things seriously like your brother, William? So I guess you can’t ever win with him.
Alex sits up slowly, her eyes heavy. She holds Rosie out to me.
“Here. You should get used to holding her.”
I’m reluctant to take her from Alex, somehow. It’s been a while since I held my niece, and the thought makes me nervous. Still, I have to get used to it, so I gently lift Rosie from Alex’s hands. She’s heavier than I expected, but I quickly grow used to the weight of her in my arms. She snuffles softly and I rock her slowly, hoping I’m doing everything right. I look to Alex for confirmation, and though her eyes look heavy from no sleep, she seems nervous to leave her alone with me and starts rattling off things that may go wrong. So fast that my mind’s spinning with her instructions.
“Well, that’s everything we brought,” Kit says after returning from another trip to the car. He claps his hands together. “I guess we should jet off. We still need to pack to catch our flight.”
Alex shuts up, and I nod absentmindedly, smiling down at Rosie. She’s so peaceful while she’s asleep. I kind of want her to stay this way the entire time. Babies are lovely when they don’t come with any personal responsibility. Now, as Alex and Kit prepare to leave, it hits me properly that I’m playing the role of dad for the next two weeks.
What could go wrong?
“Have a good time,” I tell them, pulling Kit and then Alex in for a hug. She lets out a soft laugh.
“I just can’t wait to see my sister. Make sure she’s okay. And then sleep,” she says wearily, smiling. “I hope you took a long nap before we arrived. You won’t get another chance.”
I laugh, though Alex doesn’t sound like she’s joking. My father pats me on the back and shakes my hand.
“If you run into any issues, you can call me,” he says. I nod, but I know I won’t call him. Not even if the baby sets herself on fire or flings herself from a window. There’s no way in hell I’m admitting to my dad at any point that I can’t do this. No. This is a solo mission.
“Thanks, but no thanks. I’m going to be fine.”
“And you think you can juggle all your work with looking after Rosie?” my father asks, raising an eyebrow. I suck in air through my nose.
“I guess I’ll have to prove to you that I can.”
My father laughs, clapping me on the back again. “That’s my boy. You always were competitive.”
Only because you push me to compete with everyone. Including myself. Not for the first time, I realize that half of my conversations with my father happen only in my head. But I guess I like indulging him, humoring him by listening while also trying not to get hooked into what he says.
Maybe one day I’ll have the courage to say all of this to his face. Alex kisses Rosie on the forehead as I cradle her.
“Take care of her,” she says, almost pleading. She looks like she doesn’t want to leave. Kit guides her to the door with a hand on the small of her back.
“We can rely on him, Alex. Let’s not smother him.”
“But—”
“Enough, Alex. It’s time to go. I’ll meet you at the car.”
Alex takes a deep breath, glancing wistfully in Rosie’s direction. Then, reluctantly, she heads out of the house, followed by my father. Kit grins at me, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“Don’t take it personally. Alex hates leaving her, even for a few minutes. She needs to get away for a while. She’s driving herself cuckoo.”
I nod. “Just let her know that I can do this, okay?”
“I will. Thanks, bro.”
I smile as Kit waves to me and heads out to the driveway. Though I know she won’t remember, I take Rosie to the door to wave her parents off. As the car pulls away, I feel a pang of fear.
Now it’s just me and Rosie.
I look down just in time to see her eyes flutter open. My heart freezes. Her tiny hands flail free from the blanket she’s swaddled in. She blows a raspberry, getting spittle on her chin. She smiles for a brief moment and my heart warms. I hold her a little closer. How hard can this be?
I’m clearly about to find out. I watch Rosie’s face darken. Her eyes droop. Her little lip wobbles and then suddenly she begins to scream. It’s louder than I expected. Her face is bright red. There are tears and snot all over her face. I hold her at arm’s length, wondering how something so small can make so much noise.
So...the nightmare begins.
* * *
It’s been over an hour since Rosie started crying, and she hasn’t stopped. I’ve tried everything to get her wailing under control. I’ve tried changing her diaper, but it was dry each time I checked. I’ve tried feeding her, but she’s not interested. I’ve tried dangling her toys in front of her face, but she just ignores them. It’s not helping my headache to say the least. I’ve completely abandoned the idea of work. How could I possibly concentrate with Rosie screaming so loudly that the windows are rattling?
I rock her back and forth, zoning out. I’m beginning to wonder if there’s something actually wrong with her. Are babies meant to cry this much? I have no idea. I wish Alex had given me some kind of rulebook or manual. Instructions on how to deal with her wailing bundle of joy. But of course there are a million things that can go wrong with a baby. There are thousands of reasons why she could be crying. I just don’t know what they are.
Then I spot something. Rosie’s mouth is wide open as she cries. Her gums look a little raw. And it suddenly clicks what might be happening. I gently feel inside her mouth to see if my suspicion is right.
Yep. She’s teething.
Great. Just what I need. For the two weeks that I’ll be caring for her, she’ll be going through what Kit once called the most stressful time for a baby. Why didn’t Alex and Kit mention this? Maybe Alex did but I tuned her out because
she sounded so stressed to part with the child. Still, Rosie may just be beginning to teethe, but it feels like an awful stroke of bad luck. Plus I’m almost certain that babies usually teeth at six months, not four. On the hunt for a solution, I put Rosie in her crib and try to concentrate on researching some remedies. After searching through the pile of supplies, I find teething rings and some teething gel. To my relief, when I rub the gel on Rosie’s gums, she seems to calm down a little. When I pick her back up and help her with the teething ring, she stops crying for long enough to take the bait. I sigh with relief. The house feels oddly quiet now that she’s calmed down, but I’m not complaining. Anything is better than her wailing.
I check the clock. It’s been only half an hour, and I’m exhausted. Unfortunately the same cannot be said for Rosie. Now that she’s not screaming, she’s bored. I sit on the living room carpet with her, waving colorful toys in front of her face while she claps her hands in glee. It’s definitely cuter than the screaming, but I haven’t forgiven and forgotten quite yet. I just want her to go to sleep for a while so that I can get my mind together.
It’s 11:00 p.m. by the time she starts to drop off to sleep. I watch her eyelids begin to droop and I jump on the opportunity before she can find something else to scream about. I take her up to my bedroom, where I have set up the crib, and lay her down for a nap. Within several minutes, she’s asleep, and I sneak from the room without waking her up.
I head downstairs with the intention of sorting out all of Rosie’s supplies, but one second after I sit down I end up sprawled on the couch with my eyes closed. How has a baby managed to exhaust me so quickly? Maybe it’s because I’m aware of how far back she’s set me with work. Maybe it’s because her crying has somehow sapped all of my energy. Whatever it is, I’m beat. I can’t imagine doing this every day for two weeks.
Maybe my father was right. Maybe I’m just not cut out for this. But then I remember something very important—Kit and Alex do this together. This is at least a two-person job. So maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have someone to help.
