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My mother wasn’t happy about it either. “When will I get to see the babies again?”
“I’ll call you when I get there so you can have my new number. We can set something up… I love you, goodbye.” I hung up, disconnected the phone, and sighed in relief.
“They sound nice,” Drew said quietly.
I laughed. Drew seemed like a fairly serious person, but his occasional dry joke surprised me.
“Yeah… they’re lovely.”
“Maria…” he was holding a trash bag full of clothing in each hand, looking like he was trying to find the words to say something. “Why are you coming back with me instead of moving back with your folks?”
I felt a pang of something sharp in my gut. Anger? Rage? Or maybe something else… it felt like loss. Loss of whatever respect I’d had for my parents, or maybe loss of the relationship they could have had with me or my sons. Because I would always remember my father telling meyou should not have had those babies.
“I get it, if you don’t want to talk about it,” Drew added. “And I’m not taking back my offer.”
I nodded. “I don’t want to talk about it.” If I did, I’d start shouting. I didn’t have the energy for any more anger today.
He stared at me for another moment, and then said, “Okay.”
He didn’t bring it up again.
The drive back to the mountains of North Carolina was long and tedious. I had to pull over every few hours to feed and change the boys, and we ended up getting a hotel somewhere in Virginia because we couldn’t make the twelve-hour trip in one day.
Two comfortable, clean, queen-sized beds greeted us, and Drew asked the hotel to bring up a crib as well. I stared atit, running my hands over the wood after I set the boys down inside. It wasn’t fancy, but it was in one piece. The lovely dark brown wood shone in the low light.Maybe one day I’ll get them a nicer crib,I thought.Something like this.
Every time the boys woke up to eat, or cried to be changed, or cried because they felt they needed to, I felt a twinge of embarrassment. Would Drew tell me to turn around and go home after a few days of dealing with this? What was I thinking, moving in with a complete stranger? Sure, he was their father, but what did that really mean?We weren’t married, I had no right to his resources. He could kick me to the curb anytime he wanted.
I wondered, briefly, if he was hoping we would hook up again once we got back to his place. I was too tired to decide how I felt about that.
I was too tired for a lot of things. I didn’t have answers for why I’d decided to go with him. But it was convenient, and it felt like the right choice, and maybe it would work out for us all.
Worst case scenario, it would buy me a few weeks before I had to turn around and go crawling back to my parents. But that was the absolute worst-case scenario. Because even if they let me in, I’d still feel like a failure.
At two in the morning, I’d just finished feeding the boys again when Matthew had a blowout. I sighed and got up to change him, but Drew rolled over and climbed out of bed. “Sleep, Maria. Let me. You have to drive tomorrow.”
I let him take a shift without complaint, and fell asleep.
Drew’s apartment felt like a palace compared to the tiny room I’d been living in for the past few months. Every room featured big, beautiful windows, sunlight streaming through thedrawn-back curtains. The living room had a comfortable couch and a few chairs, family photos hanging on the walls. His kitchen was small but tidy, and the dining room featured a beautiful heavy wooden table carved with intricate designs. It was clean. It didn’t have a cloud of filth hanging in the air when you walked in. It felt like a home was supposed to feel.Instantly, I felt some tension lift from me.
Drew helped me move my few items in, and then he told me to stay home with the boys while he ran out for a few things. He came back a few hours later with a new crib, some bedding, and a small chest of drawers. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
He was building the new crib when four o’clock hit, and the boys started wailing. I headed their way to try to comfort my screaming sons for the next few hours, but before I got to the door of the small nursery, they stopped.
Quietly, I snuck around the corner and poked my head in. Drew was on the ground with screws and a screwdriver lying beside him, instructions discarded in a pile of trash by the corner. The boys were lying on their backs on a blanket, snuggled up with each other. Drew was singing quietly.
His voice was gruff and low, and he wasn’t exactly in key, but I wouldn’t care if he were yodeling at this point. The boys were quiet, kicking their legs and listening to him singing;and if I claim to be a wise man, well, it surely means that I don't know…
I felt myself smile for the first time in… who knows how long. Watching him sing softly to my boys made my eyes well up with tears. I tip-toed back into the kitchen with a full heart, and then tried to come up with something to make for dinner.
Over dinner, we didn’t talk much. I had no idea what to expect from him; the one night we’d shared, we’d had a ton of sex and some pillow-talk, but nothing of substance. I barely knew him, and from what I could tell, we had nothing in common.
“I… uh… I put some fresh sheets and towels in the other bedroom,” he said, struggling to look me in the eye as he spoke. He seemed extremely uncomfortable about the sleeping arrangement. Was he awkward about it because hewantedme in the guest room? Or because hedidn’t?
“Drew, what are you expecting from me with this arrangement?”
“Just… the boys,” he said, gesturing vaguely with his fork.
I was exhausted, too tired to care much about phrasing my question politely, and he seemed so incredibly uncomfortable about the whole thing, so I spat it out. “Are you hoping I’ll sleep with you again?”
