“Don’t do that calm thing.”
***
That night, after the boys finally fell asleep, I sat at the kitchen table with my aching arm resting on a folded towel.
Earlier, Luke had reached for me, and I’d had to ask Derek to lift his own child.
I opened my notebook.
- Baths.
- Evening bottles.
- Carrying the boys upstairs.
- One nighttime waking.
Luke had reached for me.
I stared at the list.
These weren’t favors. I physically couldn’t do them safely.
***
The next evening, I slid the page across the table.
Derek glanced down. “What’s this?”
“What needs to change while my arm heals.”
He read the first few lines.
I physically couldn’t do them safely.
“You made me a schedule?”
“I made us a plan.”
He pushed the paper away. “I’m not doing shifts in my own house.”
I looked at him. “Then tell me what you will do.”
His expression tightened.
“Hope, I work all day.”
“You made me a schedule?”
“I know. I’m asking what happens when you come home.”
He didn’t answer.
I tapped the paper.
“I can’t carry both boys. I can’t do baths alone. Last night, I tried to settle Luke by myself because you wouldn’t get up.”
That got his attention.
“I’m asking what happens when you come home.”
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
“I shouldn’t have needed to, Derek. But you gave me no choice.”
Derek looked away.
“Will you take these things over until I’m cleared?”
“No.”
I’d spent days calling his refusal a misunderstanding.
“But you gave me no choice.”
That word stopped me.
“All right.”
He frowned. “What does that mean?”
“It means I heard you.”
I folded the page and stood.
“What does that mean?”
***
In the nursery, Luke stirred when I reached for the diaper bag. I froze until he settled again.
Then I called Mom.
“Can the boys and I stay with you for a few days?”
She went quiet.
“Did something happen?”
“Nothing new. That’s the problem.”
