Until November

Chapter 13

Jocelyn

If I could go back and not sign the contract, I think I might. It's another bird-chirping, sun isn't quite up yet morning and Noelle is crying. Ben is sleeping. Not surprised. I get the bottle ready as her cries wake up the house, giving my roommate half a glance on the way as he turns on the couch and mumbles something about the 9th hole.

Standing in the archway and watching my 6-foot-something roommate with a steady, hot flame rising in the depths of my heart. He's like an oversized human on doll furniture, my couch not quite big enough to accommodate him. My teeth ground together. My hormones jacked up and tears ready to flow. All of this while waiting for the bottle warmer to whir and heat the formula, my body still so tender and aching.

What time did he come home last night? He was out. Again. Drinks at the golf course? Or midnight sleepover at some eager woman's hotel room? My eyes slide over him, his smooth jaw, his lips parted, the arrogant way his mouth tips up even in sleep, and further, my gaze extends to the coffee table. Car keys. His phone. A couple of condoms. I cried in my cheap pasta and cursed his name last night while he was probably getting it on with Serena.

Overwhelmed, even now, to the point of calling Leona soon as the sun is all the way up and asking if she can come help today. Tears burn hot at the back of my eyes. I am so disappointed in Ben. So. Utterly. Disappointed.

The bottle warmer ticks, indicating it's ready. I turn on my heel and spot the smoothie maker. Then, because I know it's my only move, even if childish, I take the blender, the motor, and gather all his expensive organic kale and spinach and frozen whatever he bought. I open the back door and slam it nice and loud and go around to the side of the house. I dump all of it in the garbage can.

When I return, he's sitting up, stretching, his hair slightly stuck up to one side and creases imprint the side of his face. We make eye contact, more like a battle gaze, as he saunters into the kitchen and watches me close the door.

"She's crying," he says. "Do you want me to—"

The bottle holds all my focus. Ben doesn't make a move. "No. I'll take care of it. I wouldn't want to place too many demands on you." I storm past him but his hand lands on my arm.

"I'm offering to help."

My gaze holds his, my breaths irritated puffs of air. "If you wanted to help you would have been here last night instead of using up your condom supply. And if you wanted to help you would have baby monitor on the coffee table and you would be up first. And if you wanted to help you would have been here yesterday when I took her to the doctor." I break my arm away from his tender grasp and move quick as my body allows to get Noelle before her cries cause the walls to weaken.

Halfway up the stairs my smile zings from head-to-toe at Ben's, "Where's my smoothie blender?"

Noelle's cries stop soon as she's changed, swaddled, and in my arms. I soothe her little forehead with my fingers and sit in the uncomfortable chair in the nursery. There was an issue with the glider and it was returned before it ever arrived, so I went with something cheap and easy to put together, though my back is crying out for a cushion. Noelle goes right back down into her blissful sleep, but I'm awake and if I am, then so is Ben.

Taking care of a few hygiene related items including the breast pump, keeps my routine in tact.  Pumping oddly is like having me time but nowhere near an amazing spa day. Change into comfy clothes...get approximately three minutes to myself and hog the bathroom. Brushing my teeth is interrupted by a knock at the door.

"I need the shower." Ben's voice is right on the other side of the door. 

"I'm going to be awhile." Think I'll take my sweet time.