✅ My Cousin's Keeper [NaNoWriMo 2021]

5. My Restless Night

I woke up pretty early in the morning. I've always been a light sleeper, and knowing that it was the first night with my little one in the house had me a little nervous as well. I wondered if I should have taken half of one of those sleeping pills myself, because I woke up more than once in the night wondering how Tess was sleeping. I wanted to be sure that she was comfortable, but I didn't want to disturb her.

I hadn't been able to resist checking on her before I went to bed. I assumed that she would be asleep already, as I'd taken fifteen minutes clearing up and making sure that everything was ready for the morning since she turned in. But still, I was nervous. I pushed the nursery door open with one finger, glad that she trusted me enough to have not actually closed it. If she made a sound, then I could easily walk away and she'd think it was just the draught moving her door. But there was no sound. She was lying back in bed with eyes closed and an obvious smile on her face.

The blinds weren't closed, and stripes of blue-white LED light streamed in from the street lighting opposite. It wasn't quite clear enough to see her properly, but it looked to me like she was still wearing the same top as when she'd been moving all her stuff in earlier. I wondered if she didn't have a nightdress, or she'd just been too tired to get changed. If the latter was true, then she really did need to get a good night's sleep, and she would be glad of my help when she woke up. I padded quietly across the room, careful not to wake her, and closed the blinds. That, at least, should make it easier for her to sleep. Getting her something more appropriate to wear could wait until the weekend. Now that I knew her size, I was sure I would be able to find something cuter than wearing her clothes to bed.

It was barely an hour before I woke again. I glanced at the clock, and decided that I didn't want to risk disturbing the baby. If she could sleep through the night, that was certainly something I didn't want to interfere with. I forced myself to go back to sleep, for an hour and a half at least.

The next time, I tried to go back to sleep but was interrupted by the call of nature. I'd probably drunk more wine in one night than any time in the last six months, so I could excuse my bladder waking me. I went to the bathroom, and pondered checking on Tess. Would she need to go as well? I didn't know, but I was sure I didn't want to disturb her. I returned to bed, and tried to sleep.

I woke again at five in the morning. Looking outside, I could just imagine the first trace of dawn light on the horizon, although it was so faint that I wouldn't have been able to actually see it. I checked that my alarm was set; I always have to check things more than once. I wouldn't have much time to sleep anyway, if I wanted to be sure my little girl was up and dressed in time to walk to the bus stop before the sun was fully risen. I lay in bed thinking for a long time, weighing my desire for her to sleep well without interruptions against my desire to keep a close eye on her, and to be there in case she needed any kind of help.

In the end, my maternal instincts won out. They've always been pretty strong, even before I found out about littlespace and mdlg. So I descended the stairs from my attic room again, and looked at the nursery door. It was ajar, roughly where I'd left it. I could just ease my head through the gap, and see if she was awake without making a single sound. I wouldn't disturb her, I promised myself. I was just ensuring that the cute little girl was safe.

She was smiling just as much as before, and her eyes were closed. She might have turned over in her sleep, because the duvet was twisted to one side and one of her legs was exposed. But she seemed to be calm now, and sleeping deeply. I took a half step into the room, wondering if I should make sure her bare feet were protected from intrusive draughts, or if that would be too invasive. But as I moved closer, I saw something else that I should have noticed right away. There was a dark patch on the sheets, around her legs and stretching almost to the edge of the mattress.

My little one had wet the bed, just like a real baby girl. The wine must have been too much for her petite body. I wondered if I should wake her, to make sure she was clean and could sleep comfortably for the rest of the night. But she looked so comfortable there; sweet and innocent. If she was uncomfortable at all, she wasn't showing it. And I knew if I woke her up, she would want to know why I was looking into her room. She really didn't trust me that much yet. I didn't want to upset her, and I soon realised that the best thing I could do was wait until she woke up on her own. I needed to be there when she woke up, but I didn't want to be the one waking her, and I didn't want to embarrass her unless it was really necessary. I needed her to trust me. I needed her to come to me with her problems, because I couldn't force her to do anything until I had her trust.

I went back up to the attic, and dozed for a while until a faint beep from my alarm told me that Tess would need to be getting ready for school soon. I took my phone downstairs, and stood outside her room catching up on the latest news. I didn't want to wake the little one, and I didn't want to disturb her, but I needed to be there to comfort her if she was upset. There was a lot of news to catch up on; my phone carried way more stories than any newspaper ever had, and the more I read the more it found to show me. But before long, I started to realise that Tess would need to be up soon. Still, I didn't want to disturb her. I didn't want to confront her about her little accident if she was reluctant to talk about it; I was prepared to either help her, or to clean up while she was at school if she was too embarrassed to admit it.

After a little thought, I rapped on her door. Not a proper knock, just a single, sharp tap. There was no response from inside the room. I banged again, and waited. This time, after ten or fifteen seconds, I was sure I could hear movement. The sound of rustling fabric; a small child getting out of bed. I waited nearly a minute before I was sure that anyone standing out here, perhaps on my way from my own bedroom to the kitchen, would have known she was awake.

"Tess?" I called, and waited for a response.

She was nervous and jumpy, of course she was. She told me that there was nothing wrong, and that she could get ready for school herself. I wondered if that was more of the same feeling that she needed to act like an adult. But if she wanted to hide it, I wasn't going to stop her. I didn't want her to be embarrassed, especially not if it would make me an enemy rather than a confidante. I told her I was making breakfast, and suggested a peace offering of bacon and sausages. She could accept that without denting her pride, although I was sure I could hear a lot more footsteps than I would have expected while I was cooking.

We ate, and we talked. She asked to use the washing machine, and made up some story. I didn't want to upset her, not yet. So I allowed it, and gave her a little vague praise for cleaning up by herself. By then, of course, it was too late for her to walk to the place where she would be catching her school bus.

I still didn't say anything about the kid's embarrassment. I needed to be her friend, someone she could turn to. So I drove her to her school, and dropped her off around the corner from the main entrance. She said thank you, and I was sure that the smile there was the first sign that she was coming to see me as a real parental figure.

I waved her off, and waited for her to be out of sight before I drove home. I was surprised that she had been so organised in a new house. And even if she'd lied to me, I could respect that she did what she thought was best for her. I couldn't blame her for that; she'd been raised to believe that being independent was an important goal. And I couldn't be upset with her for the accident, either. She was a little, whether she realised it or not, and this was a foreseeable consequence of a new little getting used to her place in the household. And, of course, a predictable outcome of a cocktail that had included three glasses of wine, half of a sleeping pill, and a strong diuretic.

Next time, I promised myself, I would be more prepared. Then she would be happy to open up to me, and to ask for my help in getting over this problem.