"Been so long since I've been held,
really since I was his
Probably just need to be held,
that's probably all it is."
- Ani DiFranco, "Recoil"
Middle of the night and she awakes to Jack's hand on her shoulder. Hears the baby crying before she's fully awake, can only feel the way the bed dips as Jack kneels forward, leans closer, and Juliet rolls onto her side, reaching out for the baby. She's getting better at this part, anyway, figuring out how to feed him while lying down. And Jack, well, it's not like he hasn't seen everything already, and she's too tired to be shy about it anymore.
That first afternoon after she'd gotten home from the hospital, Rachel had glanced from Juliet to Jack hesitantly. "So... how do we wanna do this?"
"...What?" Juliet had asked, still too wrapped up in the mere existence of her newborn to be paying much attention to anything else.
"Well... like... Jack, do you want me to stay here every other night and alternate with you or something?"
"Wait a second," Juliet had said slowly. She was on the couch, nursing the baby, and she raised her face to look at Jack. "I really don't need..."
"Well, Juliet, we're not just going to leave you on your own," Jack had said slowly, surprised. Confused. Maybe a little hurt.
"Really, I'll be fine."
Rachel rolled her eyes. "Dumbass, you're still recovering, you think we're just gonna leave you with a baby?"
"Rachel, you need to take care of yourself right now."
"And I will. But I don't see why I can't help you guys. At least sometimes. I mean, I'm here, right?"
Juliet pretended to be inspecting David's fingernails for imaginary specks of dirt. Rachel obviously expected Jack would be staying over. And it was one thing to have her sister stay over, of course Juliet sort of wanted that, but... Jack too? If she hadn't ended up in the hospital for more than two weeks, there was no way he would have ended up this involved; there's no way she would have let that happen. But it hadn't been so bad, had it? She'd needed him, depended on him, and the entire time (OK, New Year's Day excluded), he'd been there for her, helping her in ways that were not the sorts of grand gestures that would drive her crazy. Just normal, helpful, not-over-the-top things. Food from outside the hospital. All those books. Someone to talk to, someone to watch TV with. Someone to look forward to seeing. (Shit.)
She'd finally looked up, immediately struck by the hesitance in Jack's eyes. Not something she had often seen there, after all. "I'll sleep on the couch, of course," he said. "Just let me do this. At least until things settle down here."
Juliet had glanced back at her sister for a second, then back toward Jack. "OK," she'd said, like they were negotiating a truce.
Now Juliet's swimming up out of sleep, David's head on her arm, her eyes adjusting to the streetlight peeping in from the blinds. The baby's quieting down as he latches on, hungry and greedy, and she whimpers a little; it's not like David's really all that concerned with her comfort. Jack's still crouched on the bed next to her in the dark. "You all right?" he asks, concerned.
A shiver of exhaustion runs through her. "Just sore. What time is it?"
"A little after four."
She sighs a bit too heavily; wasn't she just up at 2:30? Or wait, 1:30? She can't remember. Maybe at 1:30 he woke up and she went back to sleep at 2:30? Jack wasn't there for that one; he must have slept through it, out on the couch. (This is worse than every finals week she's ever had, combined.) David's only ten days old and she's already not sure how much longer she's going to be able to do this. How did her mother do this? How is Juliet supposed to just...? "Bad night," she mumbles.
"He must be having a growth spurt." Trying to sound supportive.
Can a ten-day-old baby have a growth spurt? Isn't his entire existence a growth spurt right now? "I'm so fucking tired" and she's almost crying, or would be if she had the energy to.
Jack smooths her hair from her forehead. "We can give him formula, you know. If you need to. Formula takes longer to digest. Or you could pump. I could do some of the night feedings."
Maybe Jack should have had the baby; he'd be too stubborn to give in and use formula. She's so tired the concept doesn't even seem funny to her. They'd need to get a breast pump, and those things are expensive. "Maybe, I don't know. I just, it, I think..." What was she fucking thinking, having a baby? How is she supposed to start classes in a couple more weeks? Weeks? Is she insane? But if she quits school...? Why hadn't she understood how this was going to be? Three diapers in an hour tonight, how's that even possible? And he wants to be held all the time. ALL THE TIME. Jack helps as much as he can, and she still feels like the walking dead. Like a total failure. "I can't do this." And now she maybe is crying, because she doesn't think she's ever said that out loud before. Not in the hospital, not during labor, not all this very long, long week.
Jack lowers down onto the bed next to her, lying down on his side, curled toward her and the baby. "You're amazing, Juliet. I know you can do this." Almost as an afterthought, he moves closer to her, rests his cupped hand over the back of the baby's head, stroking the soft, fine hair. She can hear David sucking away contentedly. His tiny warm body snuggled up next to her, his fingers splayed wide, his hand over her arm. Thank you for believing in me, she thinks to Jack. Almost says it. But can't. Too tired. Or something else. She doesn't know. She closes her eyes again.
Somehow she manages to wake up on her own in the morning; she's starving and thirsty and the baby is sound asleep, both arms thrown above his head. He's working his mouth in his sleep and Juliet wonders if he's going to want to eat soon, or he's just having a dream about eating. Do newborns dream, though? She doesn't know.
Jack would know.
Juliet creeps out to the front room, drinks a big glass of water. The plastic lining on the cereal box crackles a bit too loudly, but she's watching Jack sleeping on couch. Both arms thrown above his head. Holy shit, she thinks, what have I done? And she's not sure if it's with a jolt of shock or despair or utter amusement. Her emotions are all crumpled up and twined like DNA, and nothing makes sense these days, and yet in another way, it all does.
Anyway, now she's sort of stuck. She can eat in here and risk waking Jack, or eat in bed and risk waking the baby. Jack it is, she decides, and eases down into a chair at the small, round table in the corner, squeezing her eyes shut for a second at the discomfort. Maybe she'll have time to take a shower before the baby wakes up. Jack snuffles a little in his sleep and she wonders why she's remembering waking him up in a tent. They never went camping together, did they? She's way too tired to figure that one out.
(Things are less confusing the nights Rachel stays over.)
She eats a banana, drinks another glass of water, then goes into the bathroom and turns on the shower. Getting undressed is another matter; she can't stand to see herself naked right now, feeling fat and deflated simultaneously, stretchmarks crossing under her navel, and she ducks under the water before she can see herself in the mirror, trying to swallow the recurring wave of panic that no one is ever, ever going to want her again.
She feels ruined, somehow. Marked.
David's stretching and fretting by the time she gets back to the bedroom, and she shoves aside everything else that's swirling around her brain, cooing at him and laying him down on the changing table that Jack had assembled when she was in the hospital. He'd hung a long, low poster of Noah's ark animals on the wall behind the changing table, a mobile over the bassinet: a horse, a bunny, a bird, a dolphin. ("I love it," she'd told him, and meant it.)
She changes David's diaper, wipes pee off his back (at least it's just pee this time, but even so, how does that happen?) and pulls a clean onesie over his head (he hates that, amping up the volume, turning his head to the side), tiny navy blue sweatpants. He kicks his legs and she has to catch his foot for the first sock, holding it firmly in her hand, and he doesn't like that either. The socks have tiny spaceships on them, ridiculously fucking cute. (She feels yet another piece of adulthood/parenthood worming its way into her brain.)
There's a glider in the corner now, and once David is changed, she settles down with him. And then David's just looking up at her; a complete blank slate, tabula rasa, and his blue eyes so open and trusting, and everything feels OK again.
Later Jack knocks softly on the door.
"Come in," she whispers. David's almost dropping off to sleep again, his eyelids heavy.
Jack's hair is tousled from sleep; she's still not used to his longer hair. "Morning. You hungry?"
She shakes her head. "Already ate."
Jack nods, hesitates before stepping further into the room. He looks down at the baby, and she sees something like sadness cross his face. "I have to meet with a professor around 11."
"That's fine." She's rubbing the palm of David's hand with her thumb, watching the way his fingers are slowly curling inward. "He's sleepy this morning."
Kneeling down in front of her, he reaches out to stroke the back of the baby's neck. "You're sure I can't get you anything?"
For some reason she wishes she could think of something. "Other than a full night's sleep, no." She looks at him now, tries to smile encouragingly. "Jack, we'll be fine. Rachel will be here later." David's head drops away, his mouth still hanging open a little, and she hastily pulls down her shirt. Awake and not on the verge of crying herself, she can at least attempt modesty. Poorly, but still.
"Have you thought about what you're going to do with your classes?"
"I really don't - I can't - I can't think about that now." She should never have moved into student housing. She'll be totally screwed if she doesn't at least start school this semester.
Jack's still kneeling in front of them. He touches her ankle. It's strange, in a good way. "Don't worry about it."
(Easier said than done.)
That's the day that Juliet gets a package in the mail: a long, narrow white cardboard box. The return address has Michelle Burke's name on it.
She glances over at David, asleep in the baby swing. Punctures the tape with a fingernail, drags it along the edge. Inside is the baby blanket they'd started working on together, blue and yellow and green squares, all finished, all the pieces together. Her work had disappeared in the chaos of the hospital. At the time, she's been a little disappointed, but hell, it wasn't like she didn't have a million other things going on.
Sorry for stealing this, the note on top says. I just hate to see a project go unfinished, and by now you have your hands full. Congratulations, and good luck this semester.
Best, Dr. M. Burke.
It takes her another week, classes already well underway, before Juliet puts David in the sling, ventures as far as the ground floor. At the lobby bulletin board, she sorts through the babysitting advertisements, ripping off phone numbers. David is sucking on his fist, his eyes closed. Rachel's cooking for them tonight: spaghetti and homemade tomato sauce, garlic bread and salad. They're going to attempt to watch a movie. She's already looking forward to it.
Across the lobby, a girl (woman?) with a toddler on her hip smiles at them.
OK, she thinks.
Halfway through "The Blue Lagoon" (which, by the way, is probably the stupidest movie Juliet has ever seen), David starts shrieking. Nothing is calming him down, and he just keeps crying, his face getting redder and redder as he draws his knees up toward his stomach. After an hour, Rachel is pacing right along with the two of them. "Maybe you should call Jack."
"What is Jack going to do?"
"He's a med student."
"He didn't even finish his pediatrics rotation."
Rachel rolls her eyes. "You're calling him."
Jack shows up in fifteen minutes, way too fast, and he's lucky he didn't get a ticket, but he looks good and freaked. He moves his hand over David's belly, rubbing in circles. "When was the last time you fed him?"
"About two hours ago."
"And he's not hungry again?"
"No."
"And you tried burping him again once he started crying?"
No, I was out at the bar, trying to pick up a man with lousy taste. "Of course I did."
"While he was on his stomach?"
"Yeah."
Jack takes over pacing with the baby for awhile. Juliet sits on the couch, staring at the floor and feeling somehow like she's failed. Rachel sneaks off to the kitchenette, starts washing dishes.
"Maybe..." Juliet begins.
"It's just gas," he says firmly.
"Maybe we should call your mother?"
Jack looks at her like she's just suggested they bring the baby to Vegas and try to solve the problem with booze and loose women. "What would she - "
"She's done this before."
He wants to argue, she can tell. But this is their baby they're talking about, and he's obviously in pain, and they have no fucking clue. He hands David to Juliet, dials the phone. Rachel glances over her shoulder and smirks at Juliet. Jack dials his parents' house, explains the situation. "No, we tried that... no, Juliet did that. Yeah. ...OK, hang on." He cups his hand over the receiver. "Lay him down on the couch."
She does what he tells her, and the baby just starts crying harder, screwing up his face.
Jack props the phone between his chin and his shoulder. "Move his legs around like he's riding a bicycle."
Juliet grabs the baby's feet, and it doesn't take long before he expels an absolutely horrifying noise.
"Oh my GOD," Rachel comments, leaning against the wall. "What the fuck was that?"
Juliet's not sure whether to laugh or cringe, but she and Jack exchange looks of immense relief and then, that's it, they're laughing. Jack thanks Margo, hangs up. David is wriggling on the couch now, completely content again, and Jack scoops him up - he's been getting better at it lately - and covers his face with kisses. "That was pretty rude, baby," he says proudly, and looks over at Juliet again. "I'll go change him."
Rachel stands awkwardly by the kitchen entrance, still holding a dishtowel. "Maybe I should go."
"What? Why?"
"Jack... like, really wants to be with the baby. I'd feel bad kicking him off the couch 'cause you and I were trying to watch a shitty movie. You guys should be together tonight."
Part of her wants to protest, like her sister shouldn't be getting squeezed out of her apartment-slash-life just because Jack wants to spend time with David. But then there's another part of her that wants to let this happen, wants to let him stay because, fuck, David is Jack's kid too. And... and...
Why does this entire thing have to be so damn complicated?
Middle of the night and she awakes to Jack's hand on her shoulder. Hears the baby crying before she's fully awake, can only feel the way the bed dips as Jack kneels forward, leans closer, and Juliet rolls onto her side, reaching out for the baby. "Mmph. I didn't hear him?"
"I had him out in the living room in the swing."
They lock eyes in the semi-dark of her bedroom for no good reason, then glance away. Jack stays with them again, like the other night. When David's finished, she reaches out a hand to Jack... who's now totally asleep on her bed. O...K. Juliet gets up, changes the baby, tucks him into the bassinet.
Now what?
It's not like she's going to sleep on the couch. So she slips back into bed, under the covers while he's still on top of them, a sort of Berlin Wall between them. She feels oddly self-conscious despite Jack's deep slow breaths, his tightly shut eyes, and she shifts onto her side, facing the other direction.
She's nearly asleep when Jack moves toward her, sliding an arm across her ribs. Juliet freezes, tense and totally awake again, listening for his breathing. He's still sleeping... right? But his arm is right where it always used to be, back when... when..., well, anyway, his fingers are curving between her side and the mattress, and it feels so good and so comforting (and wasn't that how she'd gotten into all this in the first place?).
She stops breathing for a few seconds. Forces herself to start again. Counts to five, just like Jack had her do when she was in labor. A slow count, releasing her breath slowly, in time with his. Gradually she relaxes.
They both wake up the next time David cries. Jack looks embarrassed, the hair on one side of his head squashed, his eyes darting away.
It doesn't happen again.
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