15. Fallon

Fallon

Sleep when baby sleeps. Enjoy every moment, they grow up too fast. Fed is best. Can't spoil a newborn. Days are long, years are short. Happy mom, happy baby…

Stacks of parenting books are piled around the couch, and I'm strewn across it, worn out and empty. Last night, between bouts of crying, I looked through every book I could get from the library that even touched on raising a kid.

Gerald is helpful, and my roommates are doing everything they can, but I still can't shake the feeling that I'm doing everything wrong.

Last night, part of the money from my trust was wired into my account. I'd gotten a voice mail from Mr. Blackstone, explaining that since my account was with a credit union, they would only be wiring the maximum insurable amount to me. To get the rest of the money, I'll need to open more accounts with bigger limits.

The thought takes my breath away.

But what I got from the trust was enough to pay back my roommates and Gerald, and to pay for the baby's medical bills. Gerald brought up getting the baby health insurance for the future, but I have no idea how to go about doing that.

Cassidy said that I would need to formally adopt her. Legally.

Which will, of course, be a lengthy and expensive process. But I can't think about it. I can hardly think about anything , after staying up with the baby all night long.

The only saving grace of this moment is that the baby is finally, finally sleeping, her little head turned to the side, her body scrunched up as she breathes.

When I look at her, sometimes I get irrationally afraid of touching her. Like just by doing it wrong, I could cause damage. Could ruin the rest of her life just by brushing the backs of my knuckles over the top of her head.

Last night was torture. The nurses warned me that the baby might have trouble sleeping after surgery, but I didn't think that meant that she would forgo sleeping altogether and spend the entire night screaming. No matter what I did—bottles, diapers, back rubs—she cried, and cried, and cried.

I've been sleep deprived before. I was in college and grad school. I know all about that creeping ache of desperation that weighs your body down when you're tired, the relentless chant inside your head to just rest, to just sleep, just for a moment. The kind of near-tantrum you get when all you want is to doze off, but you can't.

But the past few weeks is like nothing I've ever experienced. Once, in high school, we read a book about a war prisoner who was tortured with sleep deprivation. Each time he started to drift off to sleep, his enemies would drop cold water on his face, or poke him in the side. He lost his mind.

That's what this feels like. Like this little baby is holding me captive.

And yet, now, looking at her while she's sleeping, it feels okay. Like she's the poison and the antidote.

I'm still on the couch, just drifting off and an hour later when there's a knock on the door. I can hear Joey moving around in the kitchen as quietly as possible, and when he pokes his head out into the hallway, I make slow eye contact with him.

I got it , he mouths to me, before walking down the hallway in his socks. I settle back down, praying the baby doesn't wake up, setting my head against the arm of the chair, when I hear a familiar voice at the door.

"Good morning. I'm Solomon Blackstone from A&P Law. According to our records, this is the residence of Mrs. Ratcliffe. Is Mr. Ratcliffe here as well? I was hoping to gain an audience with them."

I sit up, holding the baby carefully, willing her not to cry. I can barely breathe.

He's here. Looking for me and Brett. My husband. The lawyer's words from the other day run through my mind.

You would not believe the number of people who enter into fraudulent marriages without realizing that the estate will investigate…

He's here to investigate my fraudulent marriage. The marriage in which my husband lives somewhere—God knows where, actually, I've never been to his house—and I'm here with my gazillion roommates. When I get to my feet, Chloe comes around the corner in her pajamas staring at her phone in horror.

She tip-toes into the living room while Joey stands at the door, clearly trying to stall the lawyer.

"You know, you just missed her," he says. "She stepped out a minute to—to get the mail."

"To get the mail?" the lawyer asks.

"Yes! At the post office."

Joey is doing his best, but I can already tell where this is going. Getting the mail is not nearly a long enough errand to keep me out of the house for long.

"Got a text from Randall," Chloe whispers, looking panicked. "Said he heard through the Ring camera that a lawyer is here. Cassidy said you have to get out of here. He can't know that you're still living with us!"

"I see," the lawyer says, and I can hear Joey shuffling, like he's trying to block the man's view. "That's unfortunate, but I'm assuming she'll return soon. It's rather important that I speak with her."

"Who can say?" Joey sighs, his voice pitching higher than normal. Chloe rolls her eyes, and I feel a shock of panic roll through me. Joey is the worst liar. "Errands can be so unpredictable, can't they?"

I nod and nod while Chloe grabs a diaper bag from the floor and starts stuffing things inside.

"Indeed. Well, perhaps I could wait inside for her?"

"Oh," Joey says, laughing nervously. "I don't think that would be a good idea. We're in the middle of some—urgent house repairs. Very messy, lots of dust. Wouldn't want to subject you to that—"

"Urgent repairs?"

"Yes a—a pipe broke, and a wall caved in—"

Randall appears and helps me strap on the baby backpack thing that Gerald bought. A moment later, I have the baby strapped to me, a bag of my things, and a bag of hers.

"I called a car to pick you up at the end of the street," Chloe whispers, flashing her phone at me before she and Randall shove the sofa out of the way and unlock the sliding back door we never use. As quietly as they can, they shove the door open just wide enough for me to slip through with the baby, my hand on her head protectively.

I'm running to the end of the street, knowing I look insane, praying all the jostling doesn't wake the baby. The car is waiting there, just like Chloe said it would be, and when I practically fall inside, the guy looks at me like I've lost my mind.

"Where to?" he asks, raising an eyebrow at the baby strapped to my chest. I straighten up and reach around for my seatbelt, shrinking down in the seat when a car goes by.

"Uh, I actually don't know? Can you just start driving, please?"

He gives me a bewildered look, but puts the car in drive. I dig into my pocket and get my phone out, hoping it has enough battery left for me to make a call to my husband.