Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
I gnashed my teeth at his suggestion.
Now that my mother and sister were gone, there was always something to clean up, something to do. Endless amounts of laundry; Kane was always folding something.
I itched to do something productive, to cook something. But my limbs were leaden, and my brain could not think of a single thing to make.
“Chef,” Kane urged, and though I stilled liked it, sometimes the title felt like a taunt rather than an endearment. “Go outside. Breathe. I’ll let you know when she needs you.”
A look passed between us. One full of knowing, yearning, exhaustion and longing. I longed for Kane’s arms around me and for my body to be able to appreciate the touch.
I imprinted the image of him standing there, cradling an exceptionally tiny baby against his chest, etched with exhaustion but also unflinchingly handsome.
Blanche, as always, was pressed against her father’s legs, as close to the baby as she could get.
For another moment, I lingered. All I’d wanted was a moment to myself, yet now I hesitated to take it.
But eventually, I did, walking outside and staring at the wide-open ocean. I hadn’t considered myself to be a beach person before I moved there. In fact, with rising sea levels and hurricanes, I thought it would be prudent to be inland when and if I ever settled down somewhere. Not that I ever considered settling down.
But there, in that town, with the rush of the ocean soothing the edges of my frayed nerves just a tad, I couldn’t deny I understood the appeal.
We had our first fight.
It was inevitable.
We were both criminally sleep deprived, both in raw emotional states, both still dealing with traumas that we hadn’t properly dealt with.
I felt Kane’s prison sentence seeping from inside of him. When he looked panicked every time he was in a room with a closed door. If the house got too warm. Sometimes just a faraway look in his eyes when he was holding Mabel.
I didn’t know how to talk to him about it. I felt guilt over that. Felt responsible. And I wanted to fix him, just like I wanted to fix Mabel.
But that was impossible. People couldn’t be fixed. Especially not babies. She was an intelligent baby with big feelings and only one way to communicate. I knew that logically. Yet every time she cried, I couldn’t help but feel like it was an emergency, like I’d missed something.
My nerves were frayed, and though he seemed to be hiding it better than me, I knew Kane’s were too. Without my mother and Maisie, the house descended into a disorganized mess of diapers, wipes, burp cloths and coffee cups.
We were constantly behind.
“Maybe we should hire some help,” Kane suggested one afternoon.
I stared at him, from where I was folding a onesie. I didn’t know why it needed folding instead of shoving it into the drawer. It’s not like Mabel cared if it was wrinkly, and we barely went anywhere for other people to see. “No.”
He paused from where he was piling our plates from lunch, preparing to take them to the kitchen.
My mother’s freezer meals were a godsend.
“Accepting help isn’t failing, Chef,” he said mildly.
My head snapped up. “I’m aware of that, Kane,” I spat. “But this is it. This is my job now.” I gestured to the onesies. “Plenty of women do it. Thousands. Without help, without a hands-on partner. I just have to … figure out how in the hell they did it.”
It seemed like some big secret everyone was hiding, how one survived the 1,001 household tasks that needed done plus the 1,001 baby care tasks while also eating, sleeping and personally grooming oneself. An unachievable equation.
“You don’t have to figure it all out,” Kane reminded me. “We have the luxury of differing schedules and financial security to design our own lives. We don’t have to be stuck in Groundhog Day forever.”
I paused, chewing on my lip as I weighed his words. “Is this because this is too vanilla for you?” I couldn’t stifle the snark suddenly coloring my tone, buried for who knew how long.
“What do you mean by that?” Confusion tugged down his lips.
“You know exactly what I mean by that, Kane.” I slammed a folded burp cloth down much harder than necessary. “We haven’t had sex. Not once, even though I was cleared by the doctor. You are stuck in a house most of the time. With a lovely yet constantly crying baby and a woman who does not resemble the one you crossed the room at a party for. This isn’t us fucking in a dive bar in New York,” I hissed, inexplicably furious at him although he didn’t deserve it.
I let out a hollow laugh. I’d gone off the deep end. This was a breakdown, one that had been slowly building and fueled largely by the knowledge of my father. Yet I couldn’t stop it. “We won’t be living like that anymore. Or I won’t be. This is our life now. Not an adventure for you. This isn’t going to be death-defying, full of excitement. Our lives now revolve around responsibility, bedtimes, naps, bathtimes… This is going to get boring for you. I am not the same person who can be led around on the back of a bike, a woman with freedom. I’m not her anymore. This isn’t going to be enough for you.”