A Missing Heart Read online

  Today is her birthday—my daughter. She’s twelve years old. I don’t know what state she lives in. I don’t know if her parents are good to her. I don’t know if she got exactly what she wanted for her birthday and I wish I could send her a gift—a card and tell her that today is the 4,380th day I have woken up, praying for her happiness and wishing I could see her again.

  “AJ, GAVIN IS crying again,” Tori grumbles as she tears the thick, warm blankets off my body. “It’s your turn to feed him.”

  They warned me about this. The sleepless nights, the crabby wife, the sleepless nights. When is it going to end? I feel like I have the flu, except I don’t have the flu. I have a four-month-old who won't sleep through the night. I haven’t slept more than five hours in four months. Or is it four hours in five months? How old is our son? I can’t even remember, I’m so delirious right now.

  With my feet hanging from the bed, I clumsily slide the rest of my body off and hang on to the wall for support. Every night I lose sleep, my eyes take a little longer to adjust to the opaqueness of this house at three in the morning. I don’t bother trying to open my eyes anymore. Instead, I feel my way around through the house until I make it down into the kitchen. I reach for the fridge, remove the bottle, carry the bottle to the bottle heater, click the switch, and rest my head on the cool counter until the damn thing beeeeeeeeeeeeps. Some nights, I think Gavin just wants to hear the beep, because by the time I get into his room to feed him, he’s stopped crying and he’s back asleep. And I’m awake, walking down the hallway like a zombie trying to find my bed again.

  I don’t think that’s the case tonight since his screams have only increased in volume since I got up. Removing the bottle from the warmer, I hold it over the sink and let the drops of breast milk, yup, that’s my life now, fall onto my wrist so I can make sure the liquid my hot wife pumped from her breast six hours ago is not too hot. Yup. Breast milk, not too hot. It’s perfect. For Gavin.

  With the bottle in hand, I grab a burp cloth from the pile of laundry stacked up on the living room couch and head upstairs to Gavin’s room where the piercing noise begins puncturing tiny holes in my ear drum.

  I scoop up my little guy and carry him over to the rocking chair Hunter was nice enough to lend me. What are brothers for? Other than to lend each other rocking chairs. Who am I right now? How did Hunter and I reach a point in our lives when we lend each other rocking chairs?

  The second the nipple, which isn’t a sexual word anymore, fills Gavin’s mouth, his cries stop and his body relaxes into my arms. I look down at him and the soothing look on his face, and I fall in love with him all over again, just like I do at three in the morning every single night. I might be tired as all hell, but I’d do pretty much anything for this little guy. It would be nice if he understood this and did me a solid by drinking this bottle a little faster, but what can I say, the kid takes after his dad and savors good food.

  Keeping my eyes open is the only task at hand right now. Thirty minutes of staring at a dark wall goes by and the bottle feels light in my hand. Gavin’s mouth has released the nipple and he’s sound asleep. But I have to wake him up to burp him. Those are the rules I’ve learned. They’re really stupid rules, but something about him throwing up and falling asleep in his own vomit, then drowning in it scares the life out of me, so I’ll do what I’m supposed to do. I wake up my sleeping baby, who otherwise would probably just let me sleep the next three hours in peace and quiet.

  Within a minute of lightly tapping my hand over his little back, I hear the small gas pocket pop in his belly and I lift him up to place him back into his crib. Except, now he’s looking at me. He’s smiling at me. Maybe it’s gas, but I think it might be because he knows he’s about to keep me up for the next three hours.

  Before Gavin came along, I was never aware a person could actually sleep while standing up. I have now proven that this can actually work if I’m exhausted enough. But now…either Tori is shaking me or there’s an earthquake. Nevertheless, I’m not sure I have the strength to peel apart my eyelids. When I receive an elbow to the gut, though, my eyes flash open and I find myself hanging over the side of the crib—an empty crib, and my back screams with pain as I straighten up to face Tori. She appears rested, as I probably would if I had slept in a bed since three in the morning, but I know she needed it more than I did.

  “You look miserable,” she tells me. I’m tired. I have to be at work either now, an hour from now or an hour ago depending on what time it is.

  “What time is it?” I ask her. God, it sounds like I have a rusty nail lodged in my throat. Why is she looking at me like that? Like I should be smiling and standing here with a cup of coffee, reading the paper, instead of hunched over our son’s crib.

  “It’s eight,” she says, unemotional and detached, as she has been for months now. We’ve been married less than a year and for most of that time, I’ve been trying to decode her.

  I know she loves me and I love her, but this parenting thing is obviously wearing us both thin. I suppose this is why it’s typically suggested to get married and start a life together before starting a family. As unplanned as my life has always gone, this is no different. Doing the right thing has never been a question in my mind, but I don’t know if the right thing is ever really the right path in life. This time, I’m making this the right path, though—I’m going to be a good husband and the best dad Gavin deserves.

  “I was hoping to take a quick shower before our playdate this morning,” Tori says. It’s eight and I have an hour to get to the job site Hunter and I are scheduled for today. “I know you have to leave soon.”

  Tori hands Gavin to me and offers a pathetic smile. I guess telling her I’d like to take a shower before work won’t go over well right now. With Gavin in my arms, I take him downstairs into the living room and plant my ass down on the couch—the only piece of furniture I had a say on when we moved in— and melt into the plushness as I power the TV on. Maybe I can at least catch some of the replays from the game last night.

  The second I lean back into the couch; my eyes fight the familiar battle of exhaustion. I am so damn tired. Caffeine probably can’t save me now. Maybe just a few minutes of sleep will be okay…Gavin is out, and God knows Tori will be in the shower for a half hour.

  Or not.

  “AJ,” she says quietly.

  I open my eyes and perk up, finding her standing in a towel, dripping wet, with tears running down her cheeks. “Babe, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Did something happen?” I’m up, on to my feet holding Gavin and repositioning him so he doesn’t wake up.

  “I’m just—I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting.” What suddenly brought this to the surface for her? She’s been acting “off” since she was seven-months pregnant.

  “We’ve had a lot going on. I understand. You don’t have to apologize,” I offer. “There’s nothing easy about being new parents.”

  “Do you think we’d still be together if it weren’t for…” she peers down at Gavin, who looks so peaceful right now, “…him?”

  I look right at her while she’s asking me this question. It’s a question I’ve debated the answer to many times before. We had been dating for only a few months when we found out she was pregnant. Things were incredible—the connection between us was something I hadn’t felt since I had been with Cammy, and I did think things were going to work out with us for the future. I even kept her existence hidden from the family for a few months, in fear of someone saying something to mess things up with her.

  “Why are you asking me this now?”

  She glances down toward her polished toes and the short strands of her wet, midnight-black hair fall in front of her face as droplets of water hit the ground. “There’s something I need to tell you. I’ve needed to tell you for a while, but I haven’t had the strength to say it.” Why won’t she look at me?

  “T, look at me,” I tell her. “What is it?” Whatever it is, there’s anguish s
wimming within her large emerald eyes, and for the life of me, I don’t know what it could be.

  “I have this guilt,” she begins to explain. Guilt? Did she cheat on me or something? If she did, it definitely wasn’t any time recently, I don’t think. All she has been doing is talking about the stretchmarks lining her body and the extra weight she can’t manage to get off. Personally, I think she looks amazing, especially given the fact that she gave birth to our nine-pound chunker just a few months ago, but Tori was one to care deeply about her looks and what people thought of her looks. Not in a shallow type of way but an insecure kind of thing. Since the day I met her in the supermarket, she’s been drop-dead gorgeous. Nothing has changed. I wish she’d believe that, though.

  “You can tell me. It’s okay. Whatever it is, we can work through it,” because we’re together until death do us part. I hope.

  “It’s ridiculous,” she tells me, laughing awkwardly.

  “If it’s so ridiculous, why are you crying?” I ask her, starting to feel a little nervous about her difficulty in telling me whatever it is she needs to say. Tori doesn’t cry often. I’ve only known her to cry a few times in the year and a half we’ve been together, and it’s been due to a friend’s death, the day she found out she was pregnant, and the morning after the first sleepless night with Gavin.

  “I feel like I’m living a lie,” she says.

  “Like…your name isn’t Tori, or you’re a distant cousin kind of lie? What do you mean?” I ask, trying to sound a little less anxious than I feel.

  “AJ.” She closes her eyes and pulls in a long shuddering breath while shaking her head to shoo me off. “It’s nothing, forget I said anything.” Yeah, like that’ll happen. Why do women always say stuff like that? Obviously I’m not going to forget she just said that.

  “No, tell me what’s going on in that head of yours, T.”

  “I’m just overtired and I don’t know what I’m thinking right now. Can we just drop this?” she pleads.

  Now it’s my turn to give her the silent nod. Yeah, we can dodge another one of these blank confessions she so often has. “You must have gotten a little sleep last night though, right?” Gavin is only waking up once in the middle of the night now but...I was the one who got up to feed him last night, the night before that, and the night before that. And...yeah, I get it, though. I do. She housed the kid for nine months and now it’s my turn. I want her to sleep. She’s happier when she’s rested, but I guess she’s not as rested as I thought.

  I peer down at my watch, checking out the blaring nine o’clock warning. A warning because, in about five minutes, Hunter’s going to be calling me, wondering where I am. That guy and his schedule are untouchable, but I understand. Kids, school, dinner...it all owns a time in the day.

  “What time will you be home tonight?” Tori asks.

  “Usual,” I say, grabbing my coat from the couch. “I’ll pick up something for dinner on the way home so you don’t have to cook anything. How does that sound?”

  “Oh,” she says, wringing out her hair with a towel. “I actually had plans to go out with Pamela tonight. Girls night, you know?” Right. Tuesday night is girls’ night. Has been and always will be, even with a baby at home. “And Rose is staying with Gavin for the day since I have some appointments and other errands to run.” Rose is our next-door neighbor who might be too old to see or hear our child, but she offers to watch him for free because she was never graced with grandchildren. So, Tori takes her up on the offer quite often.

  I shake off my unsettled feelings and lean forward to give Tori a kiss as I hand Gavin to her. “I love you, babe.”

  She covers her mouth and leans back a bit, saying, “I’ll spare you my morning breath.” With a kiss on my cheek, she takes Gavin from my hands and carries him over to his baby swing where she settles him down. “I’ll see you tonight.” With a faint smile, she heads back upstairs for the bathroom.

  “See ya.” I step over to the baby swing and place a kiss on Gavin’s head. “I’ll see you tonight, little man. We’ll have a couple of beers and watch the game, just us guys, okay?” He gives me his little smile and goofy, giggly laugh, which makes it so damn hard to leave him here swinging alone in this big, open room. Hunter is going to kill me today. I look around the room, trying to find something to entertain Gavin with while I leave, but man, I can’t stand the thought of leaving him here in this room alone while Tori is upstairs with the hair dryer on. What if he finds something to grab and chokes on it?

  I throw my head back in defeat. You know what? Hunter basically raised Olive, his daughter, on our job sites. This little guy sleeps so much during the day, it wouldn’t make a difference if he was sitting with me or sitting here. So, screw it. “You’re coming to work with Daddy today, big guy.” I take Gavin from his swing and hike up the stairs with him, poking my head into the bathroom. “It’s uh...bring your kid to work day, so you can let Rose know she’s off the hook today.”

  Tori shuts off the hair dryer and looks at me like she didn’t hear a word I said. “What’s the matter?”

  “I’m taking Gavin with me today,” I repeat.

  “You sure?” she asks, opening the door further so she can kiss Gavin goodbye. “Well, I’m sure he’ll be happy to spend the day with you.” Tori’s smile is larger now, and she waves us both off as if she were setting sail on some fancy cruise ship.

  I never thought it would be like this. Everything was perfect until we found out she was pregnant. Neither of us wanted children, but life happens. That’s how I looked at it. I came around to the idea of a baby almost instantly, but it feels like that still hasn’t happened for her. Not that she’s come out and said that or anything, but the feeling I have is pretty strong.

  Of course, asking her What’s the matter? and Did I do something wrong? got old and tiring after Gavin’s first month, so I stopped asking. It kills me to see her like this, so disconnected from us—from Gavin. I’ve read about this shit, and I think I know what’s wrong, but she has promised and guaranteed me that she is not suffering from postpartum depression. Do women always know when they’re experiencing it, though? Admitting to a problem is hard for every person, never mind a hormonal new mother. I was careful with the way I approached it but she shooed me off, telling me it was nothing like that, and she’s just adjusting to this new life. The waiting period kind of sucks for me, though. I feel like I’m navigating this new parenthood road all alone. Through thick and thin. Through good and bad.

  With Gavin settled in his car seat, I head over to the job site, which fortunately, is only a couple miles away today. Hunter’s waiting outside for me because...I was the one with the key to the place. Oops. Forgot about that one too. This sleep deprivation brain fog sucks. I get the typical peering down at his watch gesture from Hunter emphasizing he knows I’m late. Though, his straight posture breaks when he sees me pull Gavin out of the backseat. A smile creeps across his five o’clock shadow—the dark hairs that are suddenly turning a little salt and peppery. My big bro is getting old at his ripe old age of thirty one. We can thank Princess Olive for that—the seven-year-old with a fifteen-year-old’s mouth and attitude, who rules this man’s world. I think Hunter misses the days of having a quiet little baby sleeping in a car seat—a kid who never talks back. I call them the easy days, but nothing was easy for Hunter when Olive was a baby. Raising her on his own after Ellie died just minutes after giving birth hasn’t left him with many memories from the early days, ones he likes to hang onto or reminisce about, anyway. He’s more of the live in the moment type with no need for old photographs or home videos. To each their own. Whatever he does to survive, I support. “Where is my little wingman?” Hunter softly growls at Gavin. He takes the car seat from my hands, not once asking why I have him with me at work today. Being brothers, and as close as we are, Hunter knows why I do what I do, whenever I do it, which makes things easy when I don’t feel like explaining myself.

  “Can you unlock th
e place?” Hunter asks. I grab my tools from the truck and head on over to the front door. “Bro, is Gavin okay today? He’s feeling kind of warm.” Hunter has the car seat down on the driveway, and he’s pulling Gavin from the seat, curling him up under his arm as he places the back of his hand on his forehead.

  “I mean, besides the beer I gave him on the way over here, he was fine when we left the house,” I joke. “It was probably too hot in the car. I was worried he was going to get cold, so that could be it.” Hunter tends to worry. It’s what he does best, actually. While I pick and choose what to worry about, I tend to wait until there’s a real reason to get worked up. Keeps me sane.

  Hunter brings Gavin inside, quickly making himself comfortable on the bottom step of the hall stairwell. “Dude, I was kind of hoping he’d go to sleep so we could get this job started.”

  “Carpets can wait five minutes. I haven’t seen him in two weeks, and he’s gotten huge.”

  “You and Charlotte need to pop one out already,” I tell him, knowing that’ll get under his skin.

  “We’ve been married less than six months and in case you forgot, we both started our marriage with one daughter each, so that’s two. We have two, loud seven- and eight-year-old daughters. That’s like the equivalent to fifteen kids right there,” he tells me.

  I tear the plastic off the roll of carpet that was waiting for us and look back over to him. “You two strike me as the type who should have twenty kids or something. Yeah, you should just keep popping one out every year until she becomes infertile. Then you’d never have to miss that fresh baby smell or the cute little cries you warned me about in the middle of the night. Plus, after a while Olive and Lana will just take care of the new ones, you know?” Cute little cries…more like the sound of wolves howling. Same thing, really.

  Hunter picks his head up, and the smile he had for Gavin melts into a straight line across his face. “Funny.” With my not-so-obvious hints to put my kid back to sleep, he lays Gavin back into his car seat and gently swings him back and forth for a minute until his eyes close. “He’s a good baby.”