I've taken Charlotte up there once or twice, and she dutifully falls asleep in her car seat, but then Fitz and I spend all our time comparing notes on how much she eats and sleeps and marveling at each ounce she gains and each little change in her tiny face that we don’t talk about anything else.
The tension between us is so thick that we can’t trust ourselves to talk about anything else. We stay hyper focused on Charlotte because all the emotions and unresolved feelings make any other conversation impossible.
I know he’s been busy changing over some of his crops to more drought-tolerant varieties and retrofitting his watering systems to use less water, but I’ve barely had a chance to ask him about any of it.
“So how's it really going?” Hannah asks.
“Oh well, I'm exhausted, like you said. Burning the candle at both ends. Feeling like I’m shortchanging my career if I ignore it to focus on her, and shortchanging her if I take a second away from being with her.”
“Sounds like new motherhood. Sounds like all motherhood, honestly. I don't think I've slept in five years.” She laughs. I’d think she was kidding except that I recognize the tired lines around her eyes. I now have them myself. It gives me a newappreciation for what she's been through over the past couple of years as a single parent to Dexter. Even though she has shared custody, she still seems to do a lion's share of the work.
“How are you doing with this arrangement you set up with Fitz”? she asks.
I don’t intend to let out the long sigh that probably answers her question, but I’m barely in control of anything these days.
“Well, it's harder than I thought in most of the ways, which, as you know, doesn't make me happy. I like to prepare.”
“Oh, I know you do. You always have. Even though it's not really necessary for
you to carry the weight of the world. You know the rest of us can take care of ourselves, don't you? Especially now. We're not kids anymore. Tess, you've got to let us take care of ourselves a little bit more.”
Charlotte looks like she's dozed off in Hannah's arms, so we carefully put her in her crib so she can take her nap and creep out of the room. I listen at the door for signs she’s still awake, but I hear her gentle breathing and gingerly close the door.
Hannah points me to an armchair and starts bustling around my kitchen, preparing a snack for us and pouring glasses of ice water.
“You don't have to do that,” I tell her.
“Please. I came here to help. Let me help you.”
“Okay. I sit down in the armchair and put my feet up for what feels like the first time in a year. “Hard to believe it's only been a month and I'm this tired from taking care of someone who weighs ten pounds.”
“Yeah, it's crazy, right?” She carries a plate with cheese, crackers, olives, and little pickles. I don't know how she's thrown something like that together so quickly when I don't even know half of what's in my refrigerator. I don't know half of anything right now. I'm in such a blur.
It's a wonder I've been able to get myself out of bed half the time and stay semi-focused on my cases, even though I'm technically on maternity leave. I had the option of not working at all, but that’s not in my DNA. It's hard to leave everything behind and entrust it to someone else. So I'm sort of doing a part-time situation that allows me to work from home.”
“You realize you're trying to do two full-time jobs, and that's impossible, right?” Hannah asks. “You need more than a part-time nanny.”
“I know, but I'm not ready to entrust her to someone else every day. I can barely leave her in her room right now while she's sleeping without wanting to creep in and just stare at her.”
“So how has it been when you've handed her off to Fitz for a couple of days and you don't see her at all?”
“It kills me,” I admit. “This co-parenting seemed like the best of both worlds when we agreed on it. Parenting while keeping our independence and having a life. I don't know why I didn't realize that co-parenting would mean I'm losing half my time with her. And when she's this little, each tiny development seems like a major milestone. What if she starts smiling during the couple of days when she's bonding with Fitz? What if she rolls over? What if she learns to stand or walk? Am I going to miss all of those things?”
“I don't know. It's possible.” Her brow creases, and she gets a faraway look on her face. I realize I’ve just stuck my foot in my mouth. Of course she knows what I’m talking about because she’s co-parenting herself and probably missing her share of milestones.
“Sorry, I know it’s gotta be hard for you. I understand it now.”
“Yeah, there are days when I pick Dexter up, and Johnny tells me that he learned how to ride a bike or kick a soccer goal or something that somehow I wasn't a part of. It kills me.”
I hate the sound of that, even though it’s what I agreed on, and I’m the one who keeps insisting that it makes the most sense.
“You could talk to him, you know. Maybe this isn't the only solution. Maybe he's equally miserable. Maybe you guys want to do this in a more traditional way.” Hannah puts a slice of orange cheese on a cracker and hands it to me.
“There's no way I'm going to suggest that. He takes his responsibilities seriously—his ranch, the town, his brother. He’s built these walls that I can’t penetrate. He's been telling me that from the minute we met, and I know him well enough now to see that it’s true. I think the only reason this is working at all is that I'm sticking to my end of the agreement.”
I take a tiny nibble of the cheese, and it reminds me how hungry I am. I pop the rest of the cracker into my mouth, and Hannah hands over the entire snack plate, which I balance on my lap.
“Okay, let me ask you something. Do you love him?”