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DYLAN
My heart is tornin two because I don’t know who needs me most right now. The woman who is my world, or the person who joined us in it just days ago.
The next few days blur as I hold the remaining pieces together. I rage inside because I want to be with and helping Sky, but I can’t stay with her permanently. She’s cared for while I take care of my son.
My son.
He needs a name, to exist as a reality and not an abstract. It’s months since we discussed boys names, and I can’t remember what Sky liked. At this rate he’s going to think his name is little dude or buddy.
I stay in London. The apartment contains a nursery we created because we’re likely to spend time here even though Sky’s reticence over returning makes sense. Luckily, we bought the cot, pram, and other necessary stuff, but not many clothes.
The first person to step in, and biggest help, is Cerys. Her quiet nature is underpinned by the ability to take control of a situation and helps me stay at a depth I can handle. She suggests her nanny help out, but I don’t want a stranger involved. Nobody can see I’m failing, and I can’t let Sky down again. She’s always insistent we won’t have a nanny.
I’m happy to leave my son with Cerys while I rest after my visits to Sky, and he’s fussed over by Ella too. My aching heart soothes as I realise I do have family after all; people prepared to band together and help as if we’re connected by blood.
Bryn’s in Australia and calls to check on me every day. Jem asks if I want Ruby’s advice, but—and this sounds odd—I don’t want him to see I’m falling short as a husband and dad when he’s the epitome of a happy family with Ruby. If I saw their perfect happiness, it would destroy me right now.
Sky’s mum arrives too, and suddenly the apartment fills with people all wanting to help and it fucks with my head. Liam tiptoes around the subject whereas Karen full on grills me about her daughter’s mental state.
At least with them around, I can spend hours with Sky watching for signs she’s improving. Sky isn’t herself, and now she’s on medication, she often sleeps while I’m there, and I hold her hand or watch her.
The first couple of days she spent at the clinic, she refused to speak to me, angry for forcing her to go and for not believing her. I refused to leave.
As the days pass, she gradually pays attention to the world and our baby, the old Sky edging back and the confusion in her eyes lessening. I quiz the staff, and they update me on her progress, because Sky won’t.
The day she held our son and suggested we think about names, the shadows surrounding my heart faded, and I held back breaking down.
Today, I visit her alone. The sun shines through the open curtains, and I arrive to find Sky sitting in an armchair in her large room, reading. I dip my head to read the cover as I walk in. “More hot billionaires, huh?” I tease.
Sky looks up and her pale face breaks into a smile as she sees me. The book’s thrown to one side as she rushes over to grab me in a hug. I fold her in my arms and dig my fingers into her hair, relieved some of the recent distance and blame has passed.
“How are you feeling today?” I ask.
She pulls away and smiles. The last few times, her sunken eyes were dull, but today they’re brighter. “I think I’m the medication’s side effect are less. I’m not as tired.”
I tense because I’ve spoken to doctors about this, and I don’t want to face the truth. Postnatal depression is likely to hit, even though her delusion lessened. Watching Sky suffer rips away the happiness we should share.
“That’s good to hear.” I sit in the armchair still warm from her body and pull Sky onto my lap. “Has the doctor spoken to you about coming home?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t look happy about that.”
“I’m scared I won’t love him,” she says. “I’m trying, but I’m tired, and my head is weird still, and—”
I silence her with a soft kiss. The last couple of days, baby has stayed with Sky in the clinic as the bond gradually grows. I’ve also stayed later, the staff now used to my refusal to leave Sky until she’s asleep, and my reluctance to leave my son behind. Last night, Sky struggled again so I took him home.
I rest my head on hers. “I know we have a long way to go, but one day at a time. We’ll do everything we can to fix this.”
“Fix this.” She laughs softly. “Everybody’s trying. I’m trying. I would never hurt him.” Her voice cracks.
“I know you won’t. Nobody thinks you will.” Eager for a subject change I delve into my pockets. “Look, I brought more photos.”
I pull out the printed images and spread them onto the small table positioned nearby. Last week, Sky refused to look at them on my phone, so I printed the images to show her. She pushes through them with shaking fingers until she finds one taken in the hospital the day he was born, shortly after I arrived.
Sky touches our smiling faces. “I don’t remember the picture being taken. I don’t remember much.”
