The Book Of Me & You

"We Are Shaped By The Light We Let Through Us"

His head dropped to the edge of the pillow, the boys' breath hot on his bare shoulder beside him, as little snores fell from their lips on the tiny mattress. The book in his hands slowly starting to slide off the blanket and onto the floor. A low but audible drum beat filled the small room; the vibration causing the book to fall with a tiny thud - startling him awake.

Blinking a few times to register his surroundings, he shook his head quickly, searching for the device that was in his front pocket, pinned under the weight of his small legs draped across his knees.

Finding it, he pulled it out quickly and hit the screen, "... Hello?" He answered groggily, swiping a hand over his face. The other end of the line was filled with a sob, getting his attention immediately, "Amy?" His voice was slightly gruff from sleep, now sitting up straight against the frame. The sniffling continued, causing panic to rise in his chest at the sounds of their infant shrill shrieking in the background, "Amy - what's wrong? Is Emma okay?"

It took another few seconds before she finally answered, "I - I can't -" Amy choked, trying to regain her voice, "I m-made a - a m-mistake!" The shrieking got louder, a rough sigh following, "She hasn't stopped screaming in days!" Sniffling, "I mean every night she just cries and cries, and I - I c-ca-" Her voice started to break, "... what am I doing wrong?"

Looking over to the empty crib on the other side of the room, Ricky sighed into the phone, "Nothing. It's just sleep regression." Rising to stand, "You're not doing anything wrong." He sighed again and ran a hand through his hair, sensing something else was bothering her. "... Anything else going on?"

She sniffled again, softer, "... like what?"

Now he definitely knew something was off, raising a brow, as he answered, "Um, I don't exactly know since I'm not there..." Pursing his lips, he expelled a breath from his cheeks, "How's your therapy going?"

"It's fi -" she answered quickly, cutting herself off with a swift pause - seeing no reason to shield him from the truth, knowing it wouldn't do either of them any good. She took a shaky breath, "It's going... I don't exactly know how well, though, since I've spent almost every session so far sobbing into a pillow. So that's nice, I guess." Another hard sniffle, her tone lowering, with a sad chuckle, "Who would have thought that being forced to dissect every detail of your life would make you feel so awful?"

He returned the chuckle, nodding to himself, "Yeah, that's always the part that sucks. The venting is nice, but once you get into the guts of why you're there... it can get messy."

"Funny, you sound just like her - my therapist."

"Well, having been in it for almost a decade, I'd like to think that some of the crap they forced into my head stuck." A loud, dry cry broke through the conversation, getting higher in pitch with each second that passed between them. Ricky heard her groan before the receiver became muffled and then replaced with a series of shrill, fussy whines - knowing she must have given in and picked Emma up.

Amy sighed heavily into the phone, "... Does it get any easier... the therapy?"

Nodding to himself again, "It will. But Amy, I'm not gonna sugarcoat it - it is going to be hell for a while. Absolute hell." He looked down at the snoozing tot with guilty eyes; the guilt of putting their kids in this situation, and the guilt of her thinking she was to blame for it. He swallowed back against the lump starting to form in his throat, "But think of it this way - we - you're gonna persevere and get through it... And when you come out the other side stronger, you'll be proud of yourself." A tip of his lip, "Who knows, 10 years from now we might even look back on all of this and share a laugh -"

That she couldn't help but snort at, "A laugh? Really?"

His lip tipped up higher, shrugging, "Never know." Their daughter's cries started up again, more restless, and he knew Emma was probably clawing Amy's face with her fingers or kicking her small feet into her ribs in combat. Looking over to the crib again, he clicked his tongue against his teeth, "Do me a favor. Put the phone next to her..." Her lack of response and the pause between her sighs told him she was hesitating. Putting the phone to his other ear, he sat back down on the mattress, "Go ahead, it'll be fine. Just hold the phone to her ear."