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What the fuck are you thinking?
She sits up in bed, groggy and dry-mouthed. Daniel isn’t someone who usesfuckin daily speech, let alone his texts. She hadn’t expected him to feel so vehement. Surprised, sure.
Though maybe that’s unfair to think Daniel would be fine with the sudden disappearance of his wife and child. Sure, he has no concept of the baby’s schedule, and sometimes she swears shecatches him standing in the baby’s doorway agog, almost afraid, but maybe she underestimated how much he cares.
After all, her husband was the one who suggested kids in the first place. Not that Lenna didn’t long for one…but it all still felt so soon to think she deserved one, after that day at the canyon. She still felt shaky, undeserving of love. And their relationship felt so new, too. Like it was moving swiftly with her just going through the motions.
The day Daniel brought it up, they were out at a Thai restaurant; it was one of their first outings as a married couple. Lenna was still bowled over by this plot twist in her life. Daniel was so nice. Couldn’t he see she was damaged? Surely she wasn’t hiding itthatwell.
But after a waitress set down a plate of spring rolls, Daniel bit into one and said, like it was nothing, “Let’s do the kid thing, Len. You want them, right?”
Lenna’s chopsticks slipped between her fingers. “Excuse me?”
“You love them. And it’s what you do when you’re married. First comes love, second comes marriage, then comes Lenna with the…” He trailed off, his eyes dancing.
Lenna was getting used to Daniel’s spontaneity. He sometimes just did things out of the blue. (It was one of the reasons she thought he’d be okay with her coming out to the desert on a whim.) He’d even proposed spontaneously, five months after they got together, before she felt she even truly knew him—and certainly before he knew nearly anything about her. He’d simply said, “I know something good when I see it, and I don’t want you to get away.”
It was startling, someone seeing her—as how Rhiannon had seen her, in fact. Daniel was so earnest, but she couldn’t help but think it was an act. Could anyone blame her, after Rhiannon and then Gillian? The people she thought she trusted?
Daniel took her hands calmly, a big, gentle smile on his face. “I just think it would be cool, you know?Pwease?”
It was what he called his “sad dog voice.” Lenna laughed. Daniel was so kooky, which gave her the space to be kooky, too. She was loose with him, her silliest self, not second-guessing her coolness like she used to with Rhiannon. She was more comfortable with her rituals around him, too. Daniel also had his particularities—all the tassels in the rug combed neatly, all the books on the shelves alphabetized, and he despised dust. But it was also because she’d been so certain the relationship wouldn’t last—not because she wanted it to end, but because she still felt such self-loathing and uncertainty.
At the same time, there were so many things to love about Daniel. He truly listened to Lenna when she talked about her mother. He seemed to understand the breadth of her grief, and even though he’d never met her mother, he mourned her, too. He remembered her birthday and the anniversary of her death. He went with Lenna to visit her at the cemetery. He was more supportive than Rhiannon had been, actually. His kindness made Lenna feel guilty about all she wasn’t telling him.
Despite everything, Lenna really did want a baby. In fact, maybe a baby wouldsaveher. Lift the fog that surrounded her. She fantasized about the distraction and purpose of loving something unconditionally, the way she loved her mother, the way her mother lovedher. Maybe she should drop the worries about the relationship with Daniel being too new, or that she still had visions about the awful thing that happened, or that perhaps they should wait to start a family until Lenna was brave enough to share with Daniel what she’d gone through. The truth was, she’d probably never tell Daniel if she could help it.
And so, she looked at Daniel and smiled. “Okay, let’s go for it.”
The very first month of trying, Lenna’s period was late. Herhesitation over the whole endeavor turned to joy when she took in the positive pregnancy test. Two lines! The first shot! A miracle.
Daniel was happy, too. During her first and second trimesters, his enthusiasm remained high. Granted, she took over buying all the important things for the baby and setting up the nursery, but he was busy with work, and she was only freelancing. It was good to throw herself into a task.
She was so wrapped up in Jacob’s arrival that she didn’t quite realize Daniel was suddenly acting a little…distant. Unsteady. In the delivery room, she was vaguely aware of Daniel there, and it was only after she was holding the baby—thecryingbaby, because Jacob had started his crying right out of the gate—that she happened to look over at Daniel’s face.
He seemed overjoyed. But he also stood very, very far away from the bed, his face white as a sheet. “You can come closer.” She laughed. “I promise he won’t bite.”
Daniel just blinked. “I’m good,” he said in nearly a whisper. It was something Lenna wondered if she should google: a condition, maybe?Sudden Male Onset Baby Paralysis?
In the weeks that followed, Lenna did all the work with the baby while Daniel doted from afar. He bought Jacob toys, stuffed animals, a board book of black-and-white pictures to stimulate his growing brain. He stocked the pantry with foods Lenna liked and baby formula in case Lenna needed to supplement. He made sure there were diapers and clean burp cloths. Occasionally he held Jacob’s legs when Lenna was changing a diaper. But he hadn’t really held Jacob for any length of time. He seemed terrified of dropping him and leery of his constant cries.
Lenna found herself in a quandary. She would sound ungrateful if she complained; Daniel was literally doing all the housework. But in so many other ways, he seemed so disconnected—from the baby, but also from her. None of their goofy couple banter existedanymore. She found herself not knowing how to make conversation with him—her whole life was the baby, and she wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear how much Jacob had eaten, or that he’d had a good nap, or that he really seemed to like the song “Baa Baa Black Sheep.”
It was why, when she decided to come to Halcyon last night, she figured Daniel would be okay with it. They needed a break—Rhiannon’s lullaby was rightfor both of them.Maybe time and distance would set things right. And yet she knew that maybe she was trying to rationalize everything. Why else had she left as early as she did? Why had she left him that note instead of talking it through with him, even if she would have had to wake him up in the middle of the night? She knew this deserved awhat the fuckkind of response. The thing was, she wouldn’t have been able to explain Halcyon to him, not in a way that didn’t sound like she was going off to a cult.A commune for women deep in the desert with no GPS coordinates.Not to mention the fact that she was going with a friend she’d never even told him about. If the roles were reversed, she’d be wild with panic, too.
The baby stirs. Lenna wrenches her gaze away from her phone and looks into the crib. “Hi, Noodle,” she coos, feeling that familiar burst of joy she always gets when she sees Jacob. She picks him up, unlatches her bra, and pushes him to her nipple, where he latches.
She listens to the sounds outside. Dogs bark. Children shout. She needs to talk to Rhiannon. But first Daniel’s text? He’s her husband. He deserves to know she’s okay.
After Jacob is finished eating, she feels a burst of hunger. She’ll find lunch, then deal with Daniel. She wraps the baby in the sling at her chest and steps into the hall. Jacob starts fussing, but his whimpers are halfhearted. First, she turns right, but a few doors down, she hits a dead end—that stained-glass window she sawwhen Rhiannon led her here. Odd. She wassureshe’d come here from the left.
She backtracks, passing her door again—she only knows it’s her room because there’s a chalkboard pinned to it bearing her and Jacob’s names, with a heart—and heads the other direction. Finally, it opens into the familiar cryptlike common room with all the couches.
There are a few lights on. Someone is curled up in a chair in the corner, reading a book. Sprigs of gray jut from the crown of her head, but her face looks youngish. As Lenna gets closer, she realizes it’s Melissa. The one who teaches the kids, the one who had the baby last year.
“Oh, hi,” she says, stepping into the puddle of light from the lamp next to the chair. “Sorry about this guy. He’s so noisy. Oh, and thanks for that tea.”
Melissa looks up and squints at her. “What?”
