Chapter 1 - The Weight of Almost Nothing
The nursery clock glowed 5:00 a.m. in soft blue numbers when Sofie finally went quiet against my shoulder. I rocked her in the same chair I'd used for Kyle three years earlier, the wood worn smooth in exactly the spots where my hands always landed. My phone buzzed on the side table — a reminder to start pumping before my shower, like my body was on a schedule that had nothing to do with me anymore.
A small voice drifted in from the hallway.
"Mama? Is it morning-morning, or nighttime-morning?"
"Shhh-morning, buddy," I whispered. "Go climb in with Daddy. I'll come get you soon."
"Daddy's snoring."
"I know, sweetheart. He's very good at it."
I heard bare feet pad away, a soft thump, then nothing. I let my eyes close for exactly four seconds before Sofie hiccupped herself awake again.
By seven, I was in the kitchen with the pump strapped under my blazer, stirring oatmeal one-handed while my laptop loaded a marketing deck for my 9 a.m. call. I'd gone back to work barely six weeks after having Sofie, mostly because Derek had been laid off during his company's "restructuring" and somebody had to keep the lights on.
He shuffled in eventually, hair sticking up on one side, phone already in his hand.
"Coffee ready?"
"You'll have to make it."
"Rough night?"
"She was up at two, four, and five."
He grunted and kept scrolling, tilting the screen away when he noticed me glance over. Sports scores, probably. Or the job boards he swore he was still checking. I chose to believe the second option, because believing anything else took more energy than I had.
"Renee stopped by yesterday," I said, trying to sound light. "Brought over a chicken casserole. Said I looked tired, but nicely, you know? Like she actually meant it."
"Yeah, Renee's good like that." He didn't look up. "Marcus got lucky."
"Mm-hm."
I caught my reflection in the hallway mirror on the way to find Kyle's shoes. Stained hoodie. Ponytail from the day before, maybe the day before that. Somewhere in there was a woman who used to wear heels to Friday dinners and lipstick just to take out the trash. She was probably napping.
I dropped both kids at daycare, slid into my meeting with thirty seconds to spare, and told myself what I'd been telling myself for weeks: I carried Derek through his rough patch without complaint. Now it was his turn to carry a little weight for me. That's what marriage was supposed to be.
That night, after finally wrestling both kids to sleep, I dropped onto the couch beside him. He was half-watching something, phone in his lap.
"Long day," I said.
"Yeah. Job stuff." He didn't elaborate. "Hey, not to be a jerk, but once things settle down, you might want to think about hitting the gym again. You've put on a lot of weight lately."
I turned my head slowly. "Sorry?"
"I'm just saying, Renee makes it look so easy. All those classes. Might be good for you too."
I laughed, because the alternative was crying into a couch cushion that still smelled faintly of spit-up.
"Derek, I haven't peed alone in three years."
"I'm just saying."
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"I know. It's fine."
I let it go, the way I let everything go back then, certain he didn't mean it the way it landed. I was certain of a lot of things that turned out to be wrong.
