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I keep my eyes focused on Kira as she discusses which brand of detergent is best for baby clothes.
Because if I so much as look at my husband, the tears will come.
37
ARSEN
“Where in the fuck is that little bastard?” I scramble around on my knees, searching for a screw I’m not even sure exists.
Or maybe it does exist, and not only will the shelf I just built for my daughter fall apart in the middle of the night and bury her in her crib, but she’ll eventually find the screw in the carpet and swallow it.
Dominik and Kira have a woodsy wonderland filled with diapers and pacifiers and whatever the hell else a baby needs. Meanwhile, I’ve got a death trap filled with loose screws.
Grade-A parenting, Dad. Nice work.
“Ah-ha. Got ya, motherfucker.” I snatch the screw up from where it rolled under the crib and finish assembling the shelf.
When it’s ready, I hang it in the corner and start pulling supplies out of the closet. Boxes and boxes of diapers and wipes and onesies.
I fill the shelf, but she’ll need more. Babies go through… a lot of diapers per day. Probably. Five? Twenty? I’m running through a list of supplies in my head when the door opens.
“Arsen…?” Polina is in a long dressing gown, blinking against the brightness.
“I didn’t mean to wake you.”
She scans over the chaos of the room. “You’re setting the nursery up now? It’s late.”
I know. That’s the problem.
“The baby is due in a few weeks. I should have done all this ages ago.”
I ordered everything, but then it just sat in this room, untouched. I thought maybe I’d tell Laila about it, let her design the nursery. But the time never seemed right, and now, it’s too late.
I waited too long.
“I didn’t even think about the walls.” The blank white walls feel like a jail cell. I can’t believe I didn’t order wallpaper or hire painters. Is there still time? How long are paint fumes dangerous?
“What was that?” Polina asks.
I wave her off. “Go back to bed. It’s not important.”
“Is this why you came back from Dominik’s dinner early? If so, it seems like it might be pretty important.”
After dessert, Kira was talking about pulling out a game or pouring Dom and me another drink while she and Laila madetea. It’s been years since we’ve let one drink turn into two and three, laughing and drinking until the sun came up. But the longer I sat there, the more I could feel the countdown hanging over my head.
Instead, I stood and offered Laila my hand. “We have to go.”
Her face fell, but Laila let me pull her to her feet. Her hand in mine seared my skin the same way her fingers on my thigh had. The same way her touch always does.
I can still feel it even though we’ve been home for hours.
“Did you get everything on the list I gave you?” I ask suddenly.
“Months ago,” Polina says calmly. “Just like you asked.”
“Well, double up on everything. I want extra.”
Polina moves into the center of the room, her hands on her hips. She reminds me so much of Mom sometimes that it hurts. “Maybe you should get some rest, too.”
