Welcome back, sickos. No reward in this one for your endurance, I fear. The next couple of chapters, tho...
April
"No, Scott just got out of surgery and I'm going to visit," I remind her. "You're supposed to watch Seth tonight."
"I'm going out," Chrisette repeats stubbornly. "Tell Todd to watch him. He's super good with Seth."
That is one trait of Todd's that we can actually agree on. He is super good with our son. However, Todd is on some job site four hours away, and he's not getting back in time to babysit.
"He doesn't get back until after the visiting hours are over. Scotty's sister put a whole meal train signup together. I told you about this." I sound so whiny. "It's on the calendar."
Chrisette responds by kissing my forehead as she puts her earrings in. "Get something delivered or visit tomorrow during the day. Rowan's only in town tonight." She's out the door before I can form my next protest.
Running through my list of childless friends in town takes about eight seconds. I haven't seen most of them since the wedding; it'd be too weird to call them suddenly to come sit on my couch for an hour while Seth sleeps. And then if Todd came back while I was still out, and then he's the one to explain why he has a key to my house? The most I tell anybody is "He's staying with us for a while," but even that leads to more questions, so...I guess I haven't been talking to anyone, really.
It's fine. I text Scotty and his sister, update the meal train calendar, and scoop Seth up for bedtime. He's been fussy all day but doesn't have a fever. We rock in the dark of his bedroom--I can't remember any lullabies so I sing him "Stacey's Mom" for an hour--but my poor baby won't settle down. He's usually a good sleeper. Is he okay?
I even text my mom.
Hey, can you think of any reason why Seth would be crying after months of sleeping well? I don't think he's sick.
Mom must be off work tonight, because she replies immediately.
Babies will go through sleep regression every now and then. As long as he's fed, clean, dry, and warm then he'll be fine. If he's teething you can give him Children's Tylenol.
Okay, so I just didn't come at this from the common sense angle. No new teeth seem to be coming in, but I give my kid some Tylenol anyway. "Sleep is for champions," I whisper encouragingly as I set Seth in his crib. He's screaming at me before I'm out of the room.
Maybe I'll get some work done. I'm not behind yet, but lately it feels like my brain is going bad. Everything takes longer. Tonight, though, I can at least put together some mood boards for one of my clients.
Seth finds a new decibel and I give up quickly. I can't focus with my kid bawling his eyes out twenty feet away. Am I being too harsh? What if he pooped and I'm just ignoring it? But he just went, so he should be good for a few more hours...Seth is still wailing when Todd walks in.
"Do you need me to tag in?" he asks.
I shake my head. "He needs to cry it out and go to sleep." My voice shakes, which makes me realize that my hands are shaking, too. I clench them. "He's fed, dry, and clean. He doesn't have a fever."
"Is Chrisette out?"
"Yeah." Why am I having so much trouble breathing? Am I having a heart attack? I'm not even thirty!
Todd puts his bag down on the kitchen table. "Dude, are you okay?"
"Fine." Not fine--my airway is shutting down. I'm gonna throw up.
"You sure?" He reaches for my head area, probably just to clap me on the shoulder, but I knock his hand away. He gives me
calm down
hands.
"Just...don't touch me right now."
"Okay, I won't."
I clasp my hands above my head to try and open my ribcage. My nose is tingling and my eyes feel weird. Air seems thinner; my lungs can't get enough. I'm sweating even though the house is cool. My heart beats erratically. "My chest--I think I might be having a heart attack."
Todd approaches slowly. "Jesse, hey, let me help."
He's walking like he's Chris Pratt in a fucking raptor cage, and also I can't stop gasping long enough to tell him to fuck off so I let him get close and the guy...I almost laugh, because his whole "help" business is to give me a fucking hug. He's all careful about it, too, like I'm gonna freak out on him or something. I mean, it'd be funny if that isn't when I realize I'm crying.
"This is a panic attack," Todd says. "You aren't dying. Hang onto me."
What if he's wrong and I am dying? Does a panic attack mean that I have anxiety? Do I need meds? What if Chrisette's issues are because of my bullshit and I should have been the one seeing a psychiatrist? How am I gonna be a fucking dad if I can't get my shit together? I can't even fucking get goddam air in my fucking lungs!
"You're so stressed that your brain and body are out of sync," Todd continues, apparently unbothered that I'm literally dying in his arms. "This is a panic attack. You can breathe. I can feel it."
"No, I can't." My lungs are shriveling up; I can tell.
"It's a panic attack. You can breathe with me. Can you feel my chest moving?"
"Yeah."
"I can feel yours. Let's take some big breaths together."
I try, but I'm shaking and also I'm probably dying and Seth will be alone and I'll be alone and dead.
Todd places his hands on my back just below my ribs. "On this next breath I want to see if you can press against my hands. Can you do that?"
I nodded.
"Okay, try with me. Good. While we breath out, we're going to count to seven. I'll do it with you."
I don't know how long we stay like that, Todd wrapped around me, my fists clenched by my sides, before I realize I can get air into my lungs without trouble. Fucking embarrassing.
"Sorry, dude," I say, pulling away. "It's been a long day." It's been a long year.
Shrugging, Todd guides me to the couch. He repeats in that soft, soothing tone, "Keep taking even breaths," as he sits me down. I feel strung out.
He gets me some water and puts one of Chrisette's fuzzy throw blankets around my shoulders. I'm not cold, but the weight is nice. I wish I had one of those Temple Grandin cow-squeezing machines.
"Can you," I start, but my voice is garbled. I try again. "Can you, like, put some pressure on me?"
"Absolutely," Todd says, and sits so that he can pull my back against his chest and wrap his arms around me. He squeezes so that my arms are trapped, and like Seth in his sleep sack I find this immobility helpful. He pulls his feet onto the couch so that he can cage me in with his knees. "Like this?"
"Yeah. Just, um, hang on."
I don't actually know what I mean but I think Todd gets it since he nudges my head back onto his shoulder so he can press his cheek to my forehead, too. "I got you," he says repeatedly. "I got you."
I think I'm broken.
The next sound I register is the front door opening. My head is on a pillow, but it really feels like I took a nap on Todd. Like the pillow is on him.
"What the hell?" Chrisette giggles drunkenly.
Todd shushes her and pats my back, which I realize he's been doing for a while. I am in his lap. "Babe had a really, really hard day," he whispers. "He's been asleep for about an hour."
"Seriously?" Chrisette's boozy breath brushes my cheek when she leans over the back of the couch. "Leave him there and come to bed." She kisses Todd, and the wet smacking sound makes me want to scrub my ears.
"Ugh, go brush your teeth," Todd replies.
Chrisette breathes on him exaggeratedly before stumbling down the hall. She's a happy drunk, at least. While the water runs I feel Todd slide out from under me. He takes my shoes off, my belt, unbuttons my jeans and pulls a blanket over me. The tap shuts off in the bathroom.
"Todd, come on," Chrisette whines from the hall.
I open my eyes to see Todd's light-colored gaze directed at me. I am too fucking tired of everything to do more than blink at him.
Please tell her no for once.
Todd sighs and stands, briefly puts his hand on my head, and then walks down the hall.
I lie on the couch, listening to my wife fuck her boyfriend in our bed. At least the baby is quiet.
Later that week Todd pops his head in Seth's room during our morning routine. "When you were working out, did you go to a gym or do it at home?"
Seth
abbaabbaabbaa
's at Todd, clearly tired of this diaper change, and flails happily.
"Stay still, dude! There's still poop on you!" I address my kid before answering Todd. "Uh, mostly at home. The weight rack was in the garage, but then you had stuff, so..."
Todd ignores the dig. "My gym has childcare from six to ten. Bring Seth and come before work. You're up anyway."
"I don't have--" I start to protest, but Todd cuts me off.
"Hey man, if you only stay in this house and stress about everything then you're gonna keep having panic attacks." He raps the doorframe with his knuckles like the matter is settled. "I'll put all of us on my membership, so just come. I'll drive."
Am I going to turn down free-ish childcare and the chance to leave my house? Yes I would, except the next morning Todd has packed the diaper bag and a gym bag for me by the time Seth is finished with breakfast. Three days a week we all go to the gym. Todd doesn't try to talk to me unless it's about house stuff.
A few weeks later Chrisette eyes me as I'm setting the table. "Arm day is working, Babe," she says appreciatively.
I glance up at her in surprise. "Thanks." She sounds like she used to, like when she would walk up and bite me for no reason. It was weird and I loved it and I didn't realize I missed it.
"You seem less mopey, too," she goes on. "The endorphins are doing their job."
I up the gym visits to five times a week.
July
Even with the sun down it's too hot to be outside, but that means everyone else is indoors. There are so many fucking people in my house right now. The sticky night air is heavy in my lungs, which turns each swallow of soda into syrup. If I drank alcohol, this would probably be a good night for a cold beer.
Laughter swells inside the house, which is good because it means no one is going to come looking for me. I smiled as much as I could already. Chrisette made a bunch of new friends since she and Todd got together--pissed Sasha off and blew up their friend group--and I don't want to answer a single question or learn a name. Maybe I'm being a little bitch, but at least I'm not spoiling the party, right?
The swish and click of the sliding door announces an intruder. Who else would it be aside from Todd?
