Her response is immediate:Good call. Ben trusts her already.
Ben trusts her already.
After one day.
It took Matilda three weeks to get Ben calm at pickup.
Tookmesix months after Isotta died.
Jess did it in one afternoon with a stuffed snail and some breathing exercises.
The math is simple. Ben needs Jess more than she needs me hovering at three thirty every day. And I need to stop treating every separation like abandonment.
Even if it feels like it.
I’ll still handle every morning drop off, at least for the next little while. Eventually Jess can transition to that as well, but for now she just needs to show up in the mornings to help my daughter get ready.
I pocket my phone and force myself to move.
I grab my gym bag from the mudroom. Text Filepe that I’m heading out. He’s already on standby. Security doesn’t sleep just because I’m having a crisis.
Filepe texts back:Ben?
He knows I don’t leave my five-year-old daughter alone in a four-story townhouse. Ever. I don’t care if she’s asleep. I don’t care if the house has more cameras than a casino. A sleeping kid needs an adult present. That’s non-negotiable.
I text Filepe:Luis has the overnight shift. Already upstairs in the monitoring room.
Three dots. Then:Copy. Waiting for you outside.
I pocket my phone.
Luis is ex-NYPD. Been with me since Ben was three. He knows the drill. He’ll do a walk-through every thirty minutes. Check the monitors. Keep his radio on. If Ben so much as whimpers, he’ll be in her room before she’s fully awake and on the phone with me.
That’s the system. That’s how it works. No one gets left alone. Not my kid. Not ever.
The gym is in Tribeca. Twenty minutes in traffic. Filepe drives. I sit in the back and stare at my phone like an idiot.
I should text Jess. Thank her for today. Professional courtesy.
But my thumbs won’t cooperate because everything I want to say would violate that contract.
Thank you for taking care of my daughter.
Thank you for being brilliant.
Thank you for existing and also please stop existing because you’re destroying me.
I settle for:Frederick was a great call. Thank you.
Her response comes back immediately. A thumbs up. Three snail emojis.
That’s it. No words. Just emojis.
And I stare at those stupid little snails like they contain the meaning of life. Turn the phone face down on my thigh. Count to ten without breathing. Realize I’m doing the same useless thing Ben was doing. That ImadeBen do.
Fuck.
The gym is packed. Monday night open mat. Every serious practitioner in Manhattanis here.
