A Missing Heart(9)

“You can tell me. It’s okay. Whatever it is, we can work through it,” because we’re together until death do us part. I hope.

“It’s ridiculous,” she tells me, laughing awkwardly.

“If it’s so ridiculous, why are you crying?” I ask her, starting to feel a little nervous about her difficulty in telling me whatever it is she needs to say. Tori doesn’t cry often. I’ve only known her to cry a few times in the year and a half we’ve been together, and it’s been due to a friend’s death, the day she found out she was pregnant, and the morning after the first sleepless night with Gavin.

“I feel like I’m living a lie,” she says.

“Like…your name isn’t Tori, or you’re a distant cousin kind of lie? What do you mean?” I ask, trying to sound a little less anxious than I feel.

“AJ.” She closes her eyes and pulls in a long shuddering breath while shaking her head to shoo me off. “It’s nothing, forget I said anything.” Yeah, like that’ll happen. Why do women always say stuff like that? Obviously I’m not going to forget she just said that.

“No, tell me what’s going on in that head of yours, T.”

“I’m just overtired and I don’t know what I’m thinking right now. Can we just drop this?” she pleads.

Now it’s my turn to give her the silent nod. Yeah, we can dodge another one of these blank confessions she so often has. “You must have gotten a little sleep last night though, right?” Gavin is only waking up once in the middle of the night now but...I was the one who got up to feed him last night, the night before that, and the night before that. And...yeah, I get it, though. I do. She housed the kid for nine months and now it’s my turn. I want her to sleep. She’s happier when she’s rested, but I guess she’s not as rested as I thought.

I peer down at my watch, checking out the blaring nine o’clock warning. A warning because, in about five minutes, Hunter’s going to be calling me, wondering where I am. That guy and his schedule are untouchable, but I understand. Kids, school, dinner...it all owns a time in the day.

“What time will you be home tonight?” Tori asks.

“Usual,” I say, grabbing my coat from the couch. “I’ll pick up something for dinner on the way home so you don’t have to cook anything. How does that sound?”

“Oh,” she says, wringing out her hair with a towel. “I actually had plans to go out with Pamela tonight. Girls night, you know?” Right. Tuesday night is girls’ night. Has been and always will be, even with a baby at home. “And Rose is staying with Gavin for the day since I have some appointments and other errands to run.” Rose is our next-door neighbor who might be too old to see or hear our child, but she offers to watch him for free because she was never graced with grandchildren. So, Tori takes her up on the offer quite often.

I shake off my unsettled feelings and lean forward to give Tori a kiss as I hand Gavin to her. “I love you, babe.”

She covers her mouth and leans back a bit, saying, “I’ll spare you my morning breath.” With a kiss on my cheek, she takes Gavin from my hands and carries him over to his baby swing where she settles him down. “I’ll see you tonight.” With a faint smile, she heads back upstairs for the bathroom.

“See ya.” I step over to the baby swing and place a kiss on Gavin’s head. “I’ll see you tonight, little man. We’ll have a couple of beers and watch the game, just us guys, okay?” He gives me his little smile and goofy, giggly laugh, which makes it so damn hard to leave him here swinging alone in this big, open room. Hunter is going to kill me today. I look around the room, trying to find something to entertain Gavin with while I leave, but man, I can’t stand the thought of leaving him here in this room alone while Tori is upstairs with the hair dryer on. What if he finds something to grab and chokes on it?

I throw my head back in defeat. You know what? Hunter basically raised Olive, his daughter, on our job sites. This little guy sleeps so much during the day, it wouldn’t make a difference if he was sitting with me or sitting here. So, screw it. “You’re coming to work with Daddy today, big guy.” I take Gavin from his swing and hike up the stairs with him, poking my head into the bathroom. “It’s uh...bring your kid to work day, so you can let Rose know she’s off the hook today.”

Tori shuts off the hair dryer and looks at me like she didn’t hear a word I said. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m taking Gavin with me today,” I repeat.

“You sure?” she asks, opening the door further so she can kiss Gavin goodbye. “Well, I’m sure he’ll be happy to spend the day with you.” Tori’s smile is larger now, and she waves us both off as if she were setting sail on some fancy cruise ship.

I never thought it would be like this. Everything was perfect until we found out she was pregnant. Neither of us wanted children, but life happens. That’s how I looked at it. I came around to the idea of a baby almost instantly, but it feels like that still hasn’t happened for her. Not that she’s come out and said that or anything, but the feeling I have is pretty strong.

Of course, asking her What’s the matter? and Did I do something wrong? got old and tiring after Gavin’s first month, so I stopped asking. It kills me to see her like this, so disconnected from us—from Gavin. I’ve read about this shit, and I think I know what’s wrong, but she has promised and guaranteed me that she is not suffering from postpartum depression. Do women always know when they’re experiencing it, though? Admitting to a problem is hard for every person, never mind a hormonal new mother. I was careful with the way I approached it but she shooed me off, telling me it was nothing like that, and she’s just adjusting to this new life. The waiting period kind of sucks for me, though. I feel like I’m navigating this new parenthood road all alone. Through thick and thin. Through good and bad.