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“Listen,” she insisted. “I’ve only been taking care of Ava for a week now, and I’m constantly wanting a break from it all. Just five minutes here or there, where I don’t have to worry about…everything. But that in no way means I want to be free of her permanently, does it?”
I shook my head, realizing that made sense, but it felt so different when I attributed the same feelings to myself.
“It still seems impossible to think about myself anymore and not feel guilty,” I admitted.
Lucy nodded and sent me a bolstering smile. “I get that,” she said. “But I doubt it’ll last forever. You’ll find that place someday; I’m sure of it.”
“We’ll see,” was all I could answer, but she’d instilled a hope in me that was warm and strong and seemed to dig roots into my soul.
And I couldn’t help but think that someday, all this might be better after all.
“I’m sorry if I was being insensitive just now,” Lucy spoke up suddenly, making me lift my face in surprise.
“You weren’t. It’s fine.”
She heaved out a breath and sent me an apologetic look, anyway. “I just wish I knew the right thing to say. I’ve never lost someone so close to me. I have no idea what this is like for you.”
I felt myself smile in amusement before confessing, “I don’t know how it’s really supposed to be either, to be honest. They don’t exactly give us a script to follow, and I’m sure it’s different for everyone.”
“Yeah,” she murmured. “You’re probably right.”
She still looked concerned, though, so I kept talking.
“I just know that sometimes a whole day can feel like shit, and other times, I can be completely fine and start to think I have this mourning business licked, and I’m finally getting over it, only to experience twenty different extreme emotions the next day. It just seems to come and go in waves, you know, all of them with their own unique trajectory and intensity. And you either gotta learn how to ride each one out, or you’ll drown.” Exhaling a heavy sigh, I admitted, “I’ll always miss him, so I doubt a part of me will ever stop mourning his loss. Just like with my parents. It’s the figuring out how to manage my way through the mourning that’s the tricky part.”
Lucy reached over and silently covered my hand with hers. I lifted my gaze, but she didn’t say anything, just sent me a bolstering smile. And that seemed to reach me more than any words she could have spoken.
Overcome by the impact of her support, I dropped my gaze to the baby in her arms.
Ava had fallen asleep during our conversation. I smiled, realizing the kid had it right. This woman was definitely a safe haven, a place to store your trust, along with your most intimate feelings. To me, she was like a cool drink in the desert.
Turning my hand over to press my palm to hers, I interlaced our fingers and squeezed gently. “Thank you,” I said.
Things seemed to get easier after that night.
I even started to learn how to deal with the punch of attraction I always felt in Lucy’s presence. I mean, sure, there was the occasional, unexpected flare-up when I would accidentally brush up against her as we passed Ava between us or when she’d move or stretch a certain way. Sometimes, she could look so fucking beautiful it took my breath away. But mostly, I was able to ignore the constant heat that brewed just under the flesh whenever I was around her. And if I had a dream about her that ran just a little too provocative, I simply took care of it in the shower the next morning and went about my day.
Aside from all that, we found a comfortable rhythm between us. I eventually stopped visiting so often like some overzealous creeper, and I learned to simply text each morning for my “uncle” check-ins, though I still stopped by at least twice—okay, three times—a week.
Her family plagued us with delicious food for a solid two weeks at first, then it began to taper off in week three. And I typically ate all those meals with Lucy. Afterward, I would nap on the couch or daybed in Ava’s nursery with my niece securely tucked against me while Lucy got a few chores done around the house that had been piling up.
Ava’s naptime was always precious to me. I was falling more and more in love with my niece every time I saw her. But watching her grow and learn new things was such a miracle, even if it was just the ability to lift her wobbly heavy head all by herself or latch on to something and draw it to her mouth. If she hadn’t done something before and suddenly could, I considered her a genius.
Lucy was good at keeping me up-to-date with every new accomplishment I missed too. We worked well together, I thought. And I felt good about where we were.
This was going to work out just fine.
17
LUCY OLIVIA
This wasn’t going to work.
Seven weeks after Ava was born, my maternity leave was dwindling down to its final stage. In another few weeks, I was going to have to leave her and return to work, and I was dreading it.
Mom had retired early in order to be Ava’s full-time caretaker, so it wouldn’t be like I would be leaving my child with a stranger. I knew exactly how lucky I was in that regard, but it still made this maternal spot inside me ache with misery to know I would have to give up eight hours of each day to be away from her.
I wanted to be able to raise my daughter by myself. But, since I had to be both of her parents, and someone in this household needed to bring the money in, I’d been preparing my return to work by finally pumping my breasts and feeding Ava from a bottle.
