If you're this far, I assume that at some point you've been on Reddit looking up "how to kill Sims character." Welcome back, sickos.
February
"Hey," Chrisette answers the phone. I can tell that it's Todd on the other end. "Do you need anything?"
I go back to my computer.
"I wish I could, sweetie, but I'm headed to work right now. Babe could bring you some." I look at her sharply with a protest locked and loaded, but Chrisette shushes me with a wave of her hand. "Uh huh. Mkay, sure thing. I'll give him your address."
I let her say her goodbyes before I start protesting. "Chrisette--"
She's barely paying attention to me as she grabs her purse and sunglasses. "His mom died yesterday, Jesse.
Yesterday.
Just bring the man another box of tissues."
"I thought all his family was already dead."
Chrisette gives me a curious look.
"That's what he told me." I try not to squirm.
"It's his foster mom, the one he spent most of high school with. They were super close."
"Oh." Nothing I learn about that guy is fun. It's never
Did you know that Todd was a national yo-yo champion in middle school?
and always
Todd survived the foster care system.
But still, I don't see why I'm the best person for, like, grief duty. So I try, "Well...I also have work. Like, a lot of it."
"You can literally work whenever you want to," Chrisette scoffs, kissing my cheek. "Take half an hour to act like a human."
I'm not done whining. "He has a girlfriend!"
Placing her hands on either side of my face, my beautiful wife speaks sternly to me. "Listen, baby. Sasha is coming back from Chicago tomorrow. You know I can't miss more work until my maternity leave starts. All I'm asking you to do is bring my friend some Kleenex so he's not crying into his sleeves." Chrisette kisses me. "Can you do that for me?"
I pout exaggeratedly to make her laugh and grumble, "Yes." She bites me playfully and escapes out the door.
I don't know why I got the biggest pack available, but an hour later I'm in one of the nicest lofts in town with an assload of tissues in my arms. I can't really knock, so I just kick the door a couple times.
"It's Jesse," I call.
The lock clicks and the door opens up a crack. "Come on in," Todd says hoarsely, and leaves my line of sight.
Following him into his apartment, my heart pounds like I'm entering a cage match. Honestly, the last time I saw the guy was at my wedding. I'm breaking my winning streak of Toddlessness.
He waves me to the large sectional and collapses in the middle of it. It's so fucking uncomfortable to watch him try to think of something to say to me, so I busy myself with opening the pack of tissues. Should I compliment his apartment? Or ask him about his foster mom? Am I supposed to ignore how bloodshot his eyes are?
I sit on the other end of the couch. "Here."
Todd takes the new box of tissues I hold out and puts his forehead on his knees. Can I leave yet?
"Uh, do you, like, need anything?" I ask awkwardly.
Todd shakes his head. I sigh. I don't like Todd. But he's weeping silently into his sweatpants, he's wearing a fucking hoodie, and it looks like he hasn't slept in days. Chrisette told me to act like a human.
"Do you want me to go get you a burger or something?" When Todd doesn't respond I touch his shoulder "Hey--"
Todd grabs me in this bear hug, like, fucking wraps himself around me, and starts bawling like a baby. That's just pitiful. I can't not let him cry it out now, no matter how punchable his face is normally. I pat his head and rock him a little; it's good practice for when my kid is born, at least. I never thought it could happen, but I actually feel some sympathy for him. It's hard to fake snotting into someone's shirt.
I don't know what to say. My family is so small and everybody's alive even if we don't get along; how could I possibly comfort this grieving man? I don't know what kind of relationship he had to his foster mom, but whether they were tight or not he's clearly torn up about losing her.
Patting his back, I tell him, "I'm really sorry about your mom."
Todd's response is to hug me even tighter. He's basically in my lap, wailing and shaking, and I don't know what to do or say.
Quit overthinking,
I eventually tell myself after all the patting and rocking side to side hasn't calmed Todd down.
Treat him like any other sad person. Be nice.
"Hey," I say in what I hope is a soothing tone. Todd lifts his face a little and wipes a tear from his cheek. His lashes look even longer when they're wet, and his pale eyes are less calculating. "You're not alone, you know?" He nods, sniffling, and I kiss his salty mouth before letting him bury his face in my neck again.
Why the fucking fuck did I kiss him just now?
That's something I would have done if Chrisette was sad, something to comfort her. Not Todd. Never fucking Todd. But I just kissed Todd of my own free will because he looked miserable and his face was close to mine.
We stay in that position for an hour, Todd occasionally reaching for another tissue, and I shift now and then so that he isn't cutting off my circulation. He talks about his mom, how she showed him what parental love could look like, how she wanted to adopt him but it was such a slow process that he aged out of the system. She helped put him through college. Todd used his first paycheck to take her out to dinner and she scolded him for wasting money on her.
I don't want to know any of this. I don't want Todd to be a real person with problems or a history or feelings. However, my hands keep stroking his back while he talks, soothing him when he gets choked up. I make encouraging noises right when I should shut up and let Todd stop talking. There's work waiting for me at home, and I'm going to have to send apologies to a couple of clients, but I stay on that couch, holding fucking Todd like he's a teddy bear.
Chrisette texts me to see how things are going, then sends a picture of her prenatal vitamins with the caption, "Gonna do a couple lines at work." I show the photo to Todd, who chuckles, and then we go right back to...cuddling? Are we cuddling? It's a cuddly position, but Todd is still a rat bastard.
When I finally leave Todd only says, "Thanks, Jesse," which for some reason feels like the most loaded sentence he's ever said. I go home feeling more sad and guilty than my wedding night, and tell Chrisette that I've been with Todd the whole time. She suggests that I'm more sensitive to feelings because I'm gonna be a dad. Maybe she's right.
March -- October
I feel bad that Chrisette hates being pregnant so much when I've never had more fun. Finally I'm not the only sober one at parties. We spend way more time together now that she's helping convert the office into a nursery. I build bookshelves, and give massages, and take her to appointments, and it's fun because we're gearing up for the next phase of our family. It's like, this is the time when I prove that she didn't settle for me. Her mom was all, "Jesse seems very attentive," and Chrisette goes, "Yeah, he's been amazing," even without knowing I could hear her. Plus, she gets crazy horny at random times. It feels like when we first started dating, only we're both trying as hard as I used to. She doesn't even make fun of me that much when I ask her to be a little aggressive with me.
Best of all it feels like Todd has finally developed some sense of boundaries. He isn't calling Chrisette up all the time, or dropping by just whenever, or cornering me to stick his hand down my pants. When he's not around Chrisette and I are just in love, just us as we're supposed to be. Nearly nine months of unadulterated bliss, minus Chrisette's morning sickness and tiredness and the general discomfort of growing a human in her uterus. Then the sole proudest day of my life, and then three weeks of trying to set a regular sleep schedule for baby Seth and coaxing Chrisette to take her postpartum medication.
Chrisette starts going out again. I encourage it so that she can see her friends; she hates feeling cooped up at home but doesn't like taking Seth with her because she gets anxious about him. Sure, it means that she's hanging around Todd again, but as Chrisette puts it: "My pussy still feels like a gaping wound."
At least if Todd is around he has enough sense to stay out of our house. I mean, it's not like I miss having sex with him. That would be fucking insane. Chrisette is probably keeping him away on purpose anyway. Who would trust that snake with an infant?
I know it's the first-time-parent paranoia, but I can't stand to have my child out of my sight for long when Chrisette isn't there. So Seth and I hang out a lot. He becomes an extension of my body; I have him on me during meetings, when running errands, and the bassinet is in arm's reach when I cook. All the practice I did with diaper changes pays off, and though I'm not getting much work done it doesn't seem to matter when a tiny human being is morphing and growing in front of my very eyes. However, I'm fucking exhausted all the time. It barely registers when Chrisette starts working weekends.
"It's like they didn't know what to do with my cases, so they just stalled until I was back. The whole thing is a mess," she complains as she nurses Seth one morning.
"It's a corporate merger; shouldn't they have a whole team of lawyers to help?" I ask, though when I see her expression I clarify, "It's not fair to you, is all."
She sighs. "I wish, Babe, but we're in crisis mode."
I don't know jack shit about lawyering, so I trust her on that. TV would have me believe that lawyers are always in crisis mode, so I'm grateful for any time Chrisette spends at home. There's one time when her assistant messages me to say that he can't get a hold of Chrisette. I'm trying to feed Seth and myself at the same time, so I write back,
She's probably still at lunch.
And he says,
Oh sorry. I thought she said she was running home.
The baby in my arms distracts me from thinking too much more about it, but when I plug my phone in that night I see the text chain.
"Oh hey," I yawn as Chrisette crawls into bed, "did the office get a hold of you today?"
"What?" she asks. Her tone tells me that I'm close to catching a stray for her work being overbearing, so I wave it off.
"Nothing big. Aiden texted me that he couldn't reach you," I say through another jaw-cracking yawn, "and thought you might be home for lunch."
"Oh! I was at the doctor's office and left my phone in the car," Chrisette explains. I'm so fucking proud of her that she actually went to an appointment, but sometimes Chrisette gets irritated when I congratulate her for doing something she already knows she's supposed to do. She says it makes her feel infantilized, which I can understand. Instead I ask, "Any updates?"
It's Chrisette's turn to wave her hand dismissively. "It was just to renew my prescription."
In the morning, when I'm updating our shared calendar, I see the appointment missing from yesterday's schedule. But I'm a good husband, so I mark it down with a reminder in twenty-eight days to go back for a refill.
November
The week before my wedding anniversary, Sasha is the last person I expect to show up on my doorstep. I don't know her well enough to read her expression, but she seems tense.
"Uh, Chrisette isn't--"
"I know," Sasha interrupts. "I need to talk to you." She brushes past me before I can fully open the door. My brain starts racing at the kind of bad news she might be delivering. "Is someone hurt?"
"No." She huffs at herself. "Well, maybe my ego."
