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I’m a man, too, a human with wants and needs and interests, and I’ve denied those things for so long that this feels like I’m sucking in the most delicious air after holding my breath.
Later that evening, as I’m standing in the shower and rinsing off the dirt and clay and glorious sweat from my body, I think back to what I told Emily when I was trying to convince her to move in. That shit about her being the one saving us.
Suddenly, it starts to feel a lot more true. I might have said it to her so she didn’t feel like a charity case moving into my house, something I could tell was important to her. But now, after having her as a nanny for about a month, having her living with us for just a few days, I’m realizing just how true those words were.
Emily really is saving us, and she’s doing it by giving us a chance to awkwardly and uncomfortably navigate this new life. Like giving me time to actually make new friends in this town, or helping Teddy figure out how to sleep on his own.
Though there is a part of me that thinks Teddy might need more than just a steady, consistent reminder to get back in his bed in the middle of the night.
“Do you think Teddy might need therapy?”
Emily glances over to me the following evening as we’re sitting down to dinner, surprise on her face.
“Honestly? Yes.”
“He’s not too young for that?”
She shakes her head, handing me a fork and a napkin and then taking a seat across from me at the kitchen table. Her eyes shift to my son and then back to me.
“He’s aware that his mom is gone, and if I’m guessing correctly, he’s dealing with fear that you will disappear, too. That’s probably why he wants to go to your room at night. It couldn’t hurt to have him talk to someone about it, someone who knows how to help kids as young as he is deal with loss.”
I nod my head, my heart tight with sadness at the things my son is going through that I don’t know how to solve.
“I just wish I could fix it myself,” I tell her, watching him as he happily forks up pieces of his chicken.
When Emily doesn’t respond, I look her way, finding her watching me with a contemplative look, like she wants to say something but isn’t sure she should.
“I don’t know if I should say this,” she begins, and it almost makes me want to smile…until I hear what it is she says, “but I think therapy would be good for Teddy but great for you.”
My brow furrows and my head jerks back.
“I don’t know what things were like between you and your wife, but I’ve heard plenty of rumors, and I can only imagine that if any of those contain even a bit of truth, it would be good to talk to someone about it.”
My tongue slides along my teeth, and I set down my fork, clasping my hands together above my plate.
“You’re right,” I tell her.
Emily’s lips tilt up slightly.
“You don’t know what things were like between Mel and me,” I continue, watching as Emily’s smile disappears. “Your job is to nanny my son, not me. So please keep those opinions to yourself.”
I watch her nostrils flair, and for a second, I think she’s going to say something back to me. Give me that sass I’m so familiar with. I already know I deserve it.
But instead, she stands from the table and takes her half-eaten dinner to the counter. I watch as Emily tugs out a roll of tin foil, covers the plate, shoves it in the fridge, and then leaves the room without another word.
My head falls back and I let out a long, frustrated sigh.
How the hell did I go from reminding myself that Emily is literally here saving us to telling her to mind her own fucking business?
***
I knock softly on Emily’s door, listening to the sound of rustling papers and then her feet padding softly across the floor.
When her door opens, she stands stoically with it cracked only as wide as her body.
“Yes?” she asks, making it clear that I’m interrupting.
I take a deep breath then let it out.
