“This is between me and my wife.”
Then Ethan asked, “Why are you packing?”
“I’m going home, Ethan!”
“What?”
“My wife struggled when I went back to work, and we had one baby. You left Kyra with three.”
Ben said, “I’m leaving too.”
“You’re siding with her without hearing me.”
“We heard you,” Marcus said. “That was enough.”
“I’m going home, Ethan!”
A door closed.
Ethan came back to the phone.
“They walked out on me.”
Tessa cried from her bassinet.
“Now you’ve got the solo trip you wanted.”
“I’ll stay the full two weeks just to spite you.”
“That’s your choice, Ethan. I can’t stop you.”
“They walked out on me.”
“You can’t stop me from coming home.”
“I’m not trying to.”
I lifted Tessa.
“But when you come home, you won’t move back into the guest room and live like you’re single.”
“It’s my house too.”
“Then come home and live like it.”
“Kyra, listen to me.”
“I’m not trying to.”
“Tara is changed. Timothy has eaten. Tessa needs me now. I don’t have time for your tantrum.”
I ended the call.
My hand shook after I put the phone down.
I didn’t feel brave.
I felt terrified.
But terror wasn’t the same as helplessness.
I didn’t feel brave.
Two days later, the front door opened.
Ethan stepped inside with a duffel bag.
He stopped when he saw Ben placing food in our fridge.
“What are you doing here?”
“Dropping off dinner, Ethan,” Ben said stiffly. “Someone has to help Kyra.”
“You left me there and came here?”
The front door opened.
“Yes.”
Ethan looked at me.
“You let people into our house to judge me?”
“They came because you left.”
Ben picked up Timothy’s bottle and held it out.
“Your turn.”
Ethan took it without thinking.
Ethan looked at me.
Then Ben grabbed his keys.
“I’ll bring more food tomorrow, Kyra.”
“Thank you, Ben. I appreciate it more than you know.”
When the door closed, Ethan set the bottle on the counter.
“I’m sorry things got this far, Ky.”
I looked at him.
“I’ll bring more food tomorrow, Kyra.”
“Things didn’t get this far. You took them there, Ethan.”
“I was overwhelmed. I wasn’t coping with being a father.”
“You were allowed to be overwhelmed. You were allowed to be tired,” I continued. “You were allowed to be scared. You were allowed to admit that you didn’t know what to do.”
“Then why are you treating me like I’m the enemy?”
“Because you weren’t allowed to make me carry your share while calling it my choice.”
“I was overwhelmed.”
His eyes dropped.
“I want to fix this.”
I pulled a sheet of paper from the counter.
“What is that?”
“A schedule.”
He read the list: evening feedings, bottles, laundry, overnight shifts, appointments, and time for me to eat, shower, and sleep.
“I want to fix this.”
“This feels like punishment.”
“Responsibility often feels like punishment when someone else has been carrying yours.”
“And if I refuse?”
See more on the next page