He stood there staring at the brochure still tucked into the side pocket of his briefcase.
Daniel loosened his tie. “We don’t have to decide this second.”
“I do,” I said. “I’m twenty-four weeks pregnant with triplets. There is no trip.”
He stood there staring at the brochure still tucked into the side pocket of his briefcase.
“I already cleared the time off,” he said finally.
I looked at him. “Daniel.”
“I’m just saying I need a minute.”
Instead, an hour later, I heard the bedroom closet door slam and the sound of zippers.
He came halfway into the hall with a suitcase in one hand.
I pushed myself upright on the couch. “What are you doing?”
He came halfway into the hall with a suitcase in one hand.
“Packing.”
I honestly did not understand him at first. “For what?”
“The cruise leaves in three days.”
I stared at him.
He set the suitcase down and rubbed his face.
“You cannot be serious.”
He set the suitcase down and rubbed his face. “Helen, listen to me before you start crying.”
“Before I start crying?”
“This was supposed to be our one good thing,” he said. “Everything has been one expense after another, one problem after another, and now this—”
I put a hand over my stomach. “These are our babies.”
“Maybe I go, come back rested, and then we deal with everything.”
He looked away.
“Maybe I need the time to clear my head,” he said. “Maybe I go, come back rested, and then we deal with everything.”
“You need me calm more than you need me trapped here panicking,” he added.
“You want to leave your pregnant wife on bed rest so you can clear your head?”
“I’ll call. I’ll check in. It’s not like I’m disappearing.”
“Who is going to help me?” I asked. “Who is going to get groceries? Drive me if something happens? Cook?”
My water broke just after midnight, and by dawn I was in surgery.
He gave a helpless shrug.
“You always figure things out.”
“Please don’t go,” I said.
“I need this trip, Helen.”
Then he walked out.
My water broke just after midnight, and by dawn I was in surgery.
I left him a voicemail from the hospital.
I lay in recovery with my phone in my hand and called Daniel again.
No answer.
I left him a voicemail from the hospital.
“My water broke,” I said. “They came early. Please call me back.”
He did not.
Later, when I was finally wheeled into the NICU, I took a photo of the three incubators and sent it to him.
